The result is striking, unlike anything Jessi Colter has ever released: it's hushed and haunting, an elegiac testimonial to the power of enduring faith.

Clocking in at just under 35 minutes, Sorcerer's willfully lo-fi, exploratory jam session architecture is pretty digestible, which makes the occasional sonic detour much more rewarding.

The last thing PWR BTTM are ready to do is mope; instead they've chosen to create a record that feels defiantly optimistic and celebratory.

Though No Shape shows how much his music has expanded since the Learning days, it also proves he hasn't lost any of his ability to connect with listeners. Instead, it reveals him as a sonic adventurer and truth teller who's made some of his most compulsively listenable music.

Throughout, though, the sound is so consistent, alluring, and distinctive that it's hard to believe that they have all three members contributing songs here.

Ultimately, while DREAMCAR's debut surely exists as a byproduct of No Doubt and Havok's various successes, the album stands on its own, magnified by each bandmember's most charismatic elements.

A Kind Revolution nevertheless feels cozy, a record designed to provide nothing but comfort and that's an unusual twist for Paul Weller.

While there is some appeal in this bright blast of sound, especially when he's in party mode--"One Beer Can" in particular recounts the aftermath of a raucous adolescent bash--it can also seem vaguely desperate, as if he's still clutching a reality that's faded into the past.

Some of these quieter moments can be sad, yet this album isn't depressing: it's hushed and moving, ultimately a comfort.

Ali returns with All the Beauty in This Whole Life, a record that never shies away from facing injustice but focuses on a different aspect of activism: inner transformation. That's not a new age slogan but ancient wisdom carried from Tao to Gandhi to MLK; Ali brings it down the pipe with the hammer of compassion.

Keeping track of whether Logic's writing from his own or someone else's vantage can be a challenge, but one doesn't need to be that familiar with his work to realize that this contains some of his most personal rhymes.

His vocal skills help pave over the (rare) moments when the lyrics seem a bit juvenile or the sound feels a little too familiar, and help make Mind of Mine an impressive debut. It's music he couldn't have made with One Direction and while it may not be breaking any new ground, it's new for him and he's talented enough to make that interesting for anyone who likes well-made pop music.

Where 2013's Paramore found the group tentatively transitioning from their pop-punk roots toward a multi-layered '80s synth-pop sound, After Laughter reveals them having beautifully completed the transformation.

Coziness certainly has its appeal--it works as balm and a tonic--but it's hard to shake the feeling that Zac Brown Band overplays their hand somewhat by insisting they've reconnected with their roots. All those lyrics feel calculated and defensive, undercutting the grace of the music.

Harry Styles works exceedingly well as a modern pop album and an extension of the One D sound and brand, but as the kind of personal statement Styles wants to make, it comes very close, but ultimately falls just short. More weirdness, less slickness, and a distinct musical vision next time and maybe he'll get there.

This is one pleasant and pleasing surprise.

With existential lyrics about hardship and fate (including reference to his own successful cancer treatments following 2014's Gray Lodge Wisdom), the singer's calm delivery manages to convey gratitude, understanding, pain, and affection across the album and even within single songs.

White Knight is split fairly evenly between solid senders and odd detours, which just makes the overall package weirder: it has the bones of a good record but Rundgren seems disinterested in actually making a good record

With II, L.A. Takedown have constructed a somewhat chilled but still frequently exciting vision of Los Angeles, rooted in the '80s but letting other eras and locales seep in.

Occasionally, Genders' musical adaptations verge on becoming overly fussy, but for the most part, the contributions of each partner are pleasantly transformed by this strange affair.

There's a very singular character to Girlpool's music, and it's a pleasure to be able to dip into the remarkable world they have created.

It doesn't surprise but it doesn't seem stuck, which gives the album a mellow appeal.

Penguin Cafe have created a charming world within The Imperfect Sea that gently seduces the listener through the restless and captivating collection of songs within it.

While the lack of unreleased material might make it superfluous for serious fans, this remains a splendid summation of the work of a major artist who continues to create deeply personal, profoundly moving music.

This is not just ecstatic music, but cosmic soul music. If you buy one archival recording this year, let this be it.

Krall has a definite vision for Turn Up the Quiet--she wants to keep things smoky and subdued, a record for the wee hours--and the end result is so elegant, it seems effortless.

The stylistic switch-ups are clever and effective without coming across as forcefully out of character.

It cannot be understated how bold it is to go against the grain in a genre where adherence to style can equal respect, but Stormzy's ambition exceeds potential judgment from purists. He's more concerned with expressing himself and adapting to survive, so that he can express further for years to come.

This is a celebration, both of the group's past and its inspired present, and that is more than enough to make this a worthwhile live album.

Here [on the title track] and on the rest of Nothing Feels Natural, the hunger, vitality, and intelligence coursing through these songs feel timeless as well as timely.

This is a remarkably powerful and pure album.

The album is deficient in emotional depth and congeals into a mass of adequate mood music. It doesn't offer much more once the themes--including romantic fulfillment, solace, and longing, with a little materialistic frivolity, eyelash batting, and cutting loose--come into sharper focus.

Splazsh and R.I.P. remain Cunningham's most novel and creative full-lengths, but this thrill-filled one, whatever it's about, is his most direct.

Sounding revitalized, projecting a mix of gratitude and disgust, Wale breathes new life into an old breakbeat (and a sample from Marvin Gaye's version of "I Wanna Be Where You Are") for a defiantly proud pro-black finale. It should be enough to retain the listeners who strongly prefer the more lyrical, less hedonistic aspects of the Wale discography.

Verses certainly seems like a project that was labored over for such a long time, and it ends up being entirely worth it. It sounds seamless and organic, and avoids the novelty aspect of Jeff Mills' Blue Potential.

While there is plenty of good stuff going on, there is a little too much conservative playing and a little too much left-field oddness for the record to truly hold together. Occult Architecture, Vol. 2 is preferable to the first volume, but it pales next to the band's next work.

A few songs do depart from expressing pain and the documentation of recovery. Brightest of all is "Find the Love," pure early-'80s boogie throwback. Just beneath that is the title track, a theatrical empowerment anthem that would likely close just about any other album. Instead, extra punctuation is provided by "Hello Father," another gem.

With all of his projects, Barnes continues to challenge himself and his audience, and Compassion's fascinating mix of power and atmosphere is the most finely honed version of Forest Swords yet.

The Black Lips still sound like the rulers of an unwholesome party underworld on Satan's Graffiti or God's Art?, but it's hard not to feel like both hosts and guests are running out of steam.

Graveyard Shift is a highly enjoyable and entertaining continuation for a band that knowingly winks along with the madness they concoct.

[Halo] feels like a logical snapshot of her ongoing journey, presenting 12 new tracks that are as eccentric as they are inviting.

While it's stylistically no great departure from his earlier output, it feels like the logical next destination on his journey.

As good as each of these songs is individually--and there isn't a bad song in the bunch--what's best about From a Room, Vol. 1 is how it holds together. There's no grand concept here: it's just a collection of good tunes, delivered simply and soulfully, and that's more than enough.

It's Dulli's band, and what he's delivered here honestly satisfies.

Slowdive may not be a dramatic return that will blow people away; it's far too peaceful and calm for that. It will comfort fans of the band, both those who loved them at the time and those who have discovered them in the intervening years, by being very much a Slowdive album. One that feels modern enough, but also very classic at the same time.

Still trippy and shambolic, The Weather carries an epic, sometimes otherworldly luster, with a synth-poppy psychedelia that takes a half step out of deep fuzz toward ELO.

The 11-track set is loose, yet never directionless, with melodies that are less stately, though no less comforting than those found on the album's predecessor--Shelley's voice itself is a marvel of sonic palliation.

The album itself lingers in the mind as a perfect pick for when something is needed to soothe an uneasy soul or make a crappy day a little more palatable.

Best Troubador does a splendid job of showing how right he is about Haggard and his songs, and you'd have to go back to 1994's splendid multi-artist disc Tulare Dust to hear as sincere and affecting a tribute to this most American of artists.

in•ter a•li•a is solid enough and more refined than its predecessor, but will nevertheless disappoint those attacking it through the lens of Relationship.

In all, This Old Dog is a logical continuation of DeMarco's musical explorations, but the maturation of his songwriting is what gives it gravitas.

There's almost a charm in the way Blondie push so hard: it's hard to think of another legacy act so determined to play a part of the modern musical dialogue without losing their identity. If they're not always successful, there's nevertheless something ingratiating about the ambition.

As with many of the album's highlights, the song is an aggressive blast of post-punk that never sticks to the same tempo and ends quickly (in this case, in under a minute and a half). Other songs on the album are a bit more brooding, even tipping toward goth.

More Life is another overly serious, musically uninteresting effort.

Fascinating stuff for hardcore fans, but for most other listeners, the first half of the album is more likely to be played more than once.

This album incorporates nearly all of the many facets that make British Sea Power memorable, and it's their strongest overall effort since Do You Like Rock Music? in 2008.

Ranging from lo-fi rock epics to strummed acoustic numbers that blend lonesome rural tones with desperate suburban ennui, Everything So Far is a testament to a band that sounded original out of the gate.

For diehards who have grown with the band over the decades, this softer and more buoyant sound should be a welcome maturation.

Another fine addition to his solo work, Rock N Roll Consciousness proves that Moore's search for enlightenment through noise remains vital.

While it's true that some of their pseudo-"prog" power is lost without Madsen's riffs, Mew's delivery is no less effective. Their ever-morphing vision has simply moved beyond terrestrial bonds and ascended into the expanse of the galaxy.

What Now is less eccentrically atmospheric than its predecessor, but their boisterous energy is intoxicating enough to win you over, and their sense of fun is palpable.

Taken without context, Snow is a gorgeous collection of slow-burning, neatly groomed songs and perspectives, always introspective but never without joy. When viewed as another chapter in the ongoing lineage of the Kadane brothers, it takes on a deeper gravity.

Ultimately, with Still Life, Little Cub have managed to capture the '80s synth moment, bringing it to life with tactile, analog lyricism.

There isn't a hint of fussiness and the songs and the performances are so understated, they only seem richer with repeated spins.

The album seems pleasingly scattershot as it bounces from guest to guest.

This set bears all the hallmarks of Stetson’s artistic singularity--athletic, circular breathing, polytonal and harmonic exploration, focused composition, vocalizing from the horn.

On first glance, Gargoyle doesn't feel like an album full of surprises, but after the second or third spin, the fuller and bolder sound of the arrangements and production becomes clear, and it all serves Lanegan's talents in a way his last few Mark Lanegan Band albums have not.

It's a remarkably coherent and listenable album that goes down very smooth, but not without the occasional moment of real emotion or foot-tapping fun.

While Sad Clowns & Hillbillies is a bit of a mixed bag, it's better than all of his other records that bear that mark (Dance Naked, Whenever We Wanted, Rough Harvest, et. al). It puts all his strengths--excellent original songs, unforced arrangements, and (mostly) inspired performances--on full display.

Feist has made her sex-and-death record, and in turn she has created her boldest statement yet. It's messy, confusing, thrilling, and of course, filled with pleasure.

From the serene liquidity of "Karuna" to the spatial experimentations of the instrumental title track, Silberman's personal transformations are revealed on this thoughtful and understated debut.

An accomplished, moving debut, Heba's bittersweet sensuality is distinctive and unforgettable.

With this album, English has created something awe-inspiring: strange, elemental, and profound. Very little music so masterfully evokes the towering, savage beauty of the natural world, and the insignificance of man in the face of its enormity and power.

The unusual states of being in the band's songs are sometimes more admirable than relatable, but this isn't the case on Big Balloon's highlights.

It might not be as much fun as some of Sleaford Mods' earlier albums, but that's the point.

Neither his music nor lyrics follow shopworn blues changes, but that's why they feel so vital: far from resting on clichés, Taylor recasts the blues and the history of Black America on Fantasizing About Being Black in a way that speaks to a new century, and the results are bracing.

Sadier's wish to equalize personal and economic relationships feels even more noble given the political climate in which the album was released, and Find Me Finding You is some of the warmest-sounding music yet from an unfailingly idealistic artist.

Devout will undoubtedly resonate with former ravers who have now grown up, started families, and face problems dealing with relationships and parenthood (and whose taste in music has drifted closer to introspective pop and R&B rather than dance music). For other listeners, however, the sentiments might fall flat, and the album might be too sparse, sluggish, and sad to really latch onto.

Abysma is an intriguing development in Wiesenfeld's sound, and easily the most cohesive Geotic release to date.

Async is certainly not one of Sakamoto's most accessible albums, but if the listener is willing to devote several listens until it all makes sense, it ends up being quite powerful.

There are few bands who play classic disco-funk with as much genuine love for the genre and care in the productions as Kay and Jamiroquai. Ultimately, it's that sense of love and good vibes that drives much of Automaton.

Despite its flashy sounds, it's one of the group's most insular sets of songs. Nevertheless, Kirk and company express how the past can poison the present and days yet to come in ways that are uniquely theirs.

All-Amerikkkan Bada$$ is the sound of a young rapper finding a voice and higher purpose, an exciting and powerfully insightful statement.

Death Peak reaffirms that Clark's music isn't constrained by clearly defined concepts; if anything, he's liberated by them, and this is some of his finest, widest-ranging music yet.

As always, Ghersi pushes his boundaries on Arca, and the vulnerability he displays makes it some of his most exciting and moving music yet.

An impressive debut from a very promising songwriter, hopefully with more to come.

At 17 songs, it's inevitable that not every track will appeal to every listener.

IV is strong stuff, but if you wonder if Part Chimp have lost their touch after half-a-decade out of the game, this music provides a conclusive answer: not even a tiny bit.

She may emphasize her ties to the past but she's intent on expanding the tradition, turning country music into a bolder, more inclusive place, and that desire is what makes Wrangled such a compelling album.

This certainly is not one of the worst albums ever recorded; indeed, it has its moments of merit that hit the proper spots and deliver the intended dose of dopamine. However, as a cohesive statement worthy of an album's length of the listener's attention, Memories is lacking.

Novum is far better than anyone had any right to expect: It's energetic, hungry, and swaggering. That said, it retains the trademark class and musical sophistication that makes Procol Harum iconic.

Mandela Effect is certainly more varied than Callus (which, like all Gonjasufi releases, is a heady mix of styles itself), and while it isn't exactly lighter or more listener-friendly, it often seems to get its messages across in more intriguing ways.

Waiting a Lifetime is the end result of a lot of hard work, experimentation, and craft, yet it still sounds alive and full of emotion.

Guppy may be just the ticket for those looking for a reprieve from the ubiquitous gloss of electro-pop, and they can have it without sacrificing catchiness or sunny vibrations.

Thanks to the sincerity and strong melodies that have been Maximo Park's mainstays since the beginning, Risk to Exist combines good intentions with good music.

Even if Goddard is occasionally too reverent on Electric Lines, his love of electronic music--and the way it brings people together--is undeniable and infectious.

Later cuts like "Love in the Time of Surveillance" and the nervy, angsty closer reveal some decidedly complex layers of sonic architecture. Toss in the requisite instrumental, the all-atmosphere "Make No Sound in the Digital Forest," and you've got a pretty solid Incubus record in your hands, albeit one that won't win over any of the group's detractors.

For as good as the songs are, what's initially so absorbing about Americana is this limber musicality. What makes it last are the songs, which are wry, moving, and truthful, which wasn't always the case in his book.