It's a flawlessly executed document of pristine production and incremental bursts of verve and joy to keep the music from dissolving into its own atmosphere. The challenge here, however, is finding the right mood to appreciate the Weeknd's lengthy and elaborate funeral for himself.

The feel of Ebo Taylor Jazz Is Dead 022 is loose, free, and joyous, and highlights this generous spirit with excellent songs and virtuosic musicianship.

It results in a wildly mixed bag where the listener has to actively engage to keep up, and the constant unexpected gear shifting makes for one of the more fun and happily confounding GbV sets of their post-reunion output.

Tucked into these strange, loose songs are bits of enduring architecture, interesting philosophies, and the transcendent melodies that have been his bailiwick since the '80s. Of Cope's latter-day records, Friar Tuck is a triumph.

Honey from a Winter Stone is arguably the most forward-thinking, emotionally vulnerable, and moving album in Akinmusire's catalog. It offers an intimate musical language that transcends genres while being at home in them all.

The editing and sequencing on Downstate are more a part of the listening experience here than on the previous album, with quick transitions, trippy fades, and unexpected pitch changes all adding weirdness to an already warped set of jams.

Animal Collective completists will be able to zero in on what makes Geologist’s language of samples and deconstructed loops unique, but to the untrained ear, it might register mostly as broken music begging to be pieced back together.

[Producer Nick] Hakim has a thing for vintage-sounding mechanical rhythms, and the spare and effective way they're utilized helps lend sonic continuity between Chacon's 2020 and 2023 albums. The key throughline, of course, is the sound of Chacon's voice -- an instrument that pacifies no matter the states of uncertainty and distress the purposeful lyrics indicate.

They still manipulate vocals and apply effects the way they've been known to do, but it often sounds closer to the work of a full band rather than a pair of producers.

It's when the band is in full swing that Oldham sounds tuned-in and excited (even giddy) to be crafting the kind of classic country record that he's enjoyed so much himself. The depth of the production helps deliver this feeling, elevating the sound of The Purple Bird to a place where all of its carefully placed details and rusty joy can be clearly heard, and even more markedly felt.

“number one girl” and “drinks or coffee” address unrequited love and ‘talking stages,’ “3am,” “Gameboy,” and “toxic til the end” see ROSÉ weaving around red flags, and “too bad for us” and “dance all night” finish the cycle with post-breakup mourning and the search for closure.

Even all these big-name friends can't save WHAM from mediocrity, though. Lil Baby's flows, presentation, and beat selection are all laughably generic, to the point that any lyrical cleverness or hint of interesting perspectives he might have get washed away in the flood of less-than-memorable sounds.

The album's overriding ethos is expressed more clearly on tracks like "I Reach for You in My Sleep" and closer "The Rest of Our Lives," whose warm, layered harmonies, nimble fingerpicking, and gentle background shimmer evoke and encourage sweet dreams.

Matt Berry has been releasing albums for a long time -- some of them inevitably better than others. Heard Noises ranks right near the top, and if the sun hits it just right and one squints a little, it might be sitting merrily atop the very summit.

FKA twigs has guided listeners through a remarkably honest song cycle. The complexities are where her music thrives, and EUSEXUA abounds with them.

On the first few spins, the songs and ideas here don't seem to stray terribly far from the path worn by previous Rose City Band albums, but the heightened production and detours into previously untraveled styles all slowly contribute to this chapter being both a continuation and a gentle expansion of Johnson's warped, beautiful, and ongoing vision of space-age country music.

It might be a smaller-scale album than As the Love Continues, but The Bad Fire is the sound of a band that's still making vital music 30 years after they formed.

All Hell stands as one of their most consistent albums while simultaneously being bolder and more unrestrained than usual.

Amidon may have outdone himself when it comes to Salt River's ability to be at once trippy, bucolic, sophisticated, and simple, like a dream about a folksong.

With its widescreen romantic grandeur and orchestral sweep, it feels like the culmination of both his personal and artistic ambitions. If misty moor-walking weren't just for the lovelorn, this would be its soundtrack.

DÍA is the work of an artist who isn't looking back. With these cathartic, expansive, resilient songs, Ela Minus is just becoming more expressive -- or as she puts it, "I'll keep writing melodies to sing."

Balloonerism isn’t Miller’s best, most consistent, or even most experimental work, but it offers a previously unseen chapter in his evolution as an artist and shows clear pathways to what followed.

In Love Again is a buzzy indie pop delight, full of surprises that pay off handsomely.

Force Majeure is a small-scale triumph that's built on musicians sweating it out in small rooms, cranking the amps until the begin to crackle, and plugging directly into the still beating heart of rock & roll.

Wide-ranging yet restrained components make for a quietly cinematic experience, as Jamieson goes on to examine other angles of love.

Humanhood finds Lindeman in the middle of the mysterious, sacred process of returning to herself, and while the album may not offer many answers, its rare honesty, eloquence, and compassion make it another triumph for the Weather Station.

Héritage sounds unlike any other Songhoy Blues release, and it's every bit as skillfully crafted and powerful.

It’s an album worthy of its co-signs from the Boygenius camp but one that stands solidly on the merits of its own uncompromising creation.

There's a strong mood setting vibe on Motion I, one that finds Out Of/Into drawing upon Blue Note's past while pushing toward the future.

Pricey but essential, Hear My Song: The Collection 1966-1995 offers not only the best material they could get their hands on, but also the best of what they could get their hands on.

Debí Tirar Más Fotos is a Puerto Rican triumph, as verdant as its foliage and as vital as its cause. Hollering “Yo soy de P fucking R” from the rooftops, Bad Bunny roots himself in his homeland, yet again proving himself one of his generation’s most potent voices.

Think of Mist is another affecting and impressive release from an artist who should have more eyes on her creations.

Although inessential in the context of Olsen's output, Cosmic Waves is a great idea well-executed, with the covers lending a needed gravitas and collectability to what would otherwise be a playlist project.

She's clearly having fun, making the music she wants to make and exploring new facets of her craft. Hopeful, romantic, and energetic, Armatrading offers a strong dose of joy in troubled times.

Franz Ferdinand feel more engaged than they have in some time on The Human Fear. It's some of their most self-assured sounding music, but thanks to its naked emotions and eclectic choices, it's also some of their most human-sounding music. All told, it's a respectable -- but not too respectable -- addition to their body of work.

The result has a warm, organic feel that meshes comfortably with Ringo's country influences without forcing the issue or sounding like the typical Nashville product of the 2020s. This music is mature in feel and outlook, in the best ways.

Lambrini Girls keep the levels of earned outrage cranked up high and apologies at near zero while continuing to take on topics like gender inequity, political and cultural atrocities, and bad behavior in general on their full-length and City Slang debut, Who Let the Dogs Out.

While it can feel a bit dry at times, it shows that Ashworth's songwriting is as strong and affecting as ever.

While in some ways more streamlined than their harsher early singles, British Murder Boys' debut album manages to be heavier and wilder in its own way.

While White Denim's stylistic touchstones are certainly at play on 12, the album feels less like a band working through their influences and more like one coming fully realized into their own.

It’s a beautiful, immersive, and above all, dreamlike set that easily rewards the investment in its length.

"Piece of My Heart," features guest vocals from Brent Faiyaz and an interesting mid-song shift to a lusher sonic palette. The production, while similar to his earlier releases, leans ever more insistently into R&B with subtler Afrobeats touches.

If made by a group other than them, might have topped year end list made by serious music publications. As it is, the record will likely exist as a lost treasure to be excavated years down the road to be loved and emulated. Saint Etienne have more than their share of great albums over the years, chalk this up as one of the best and proof that the band have become more than just a brilliant pop act.

While it doesn’t really come close to capturing the lightning-in-a-bottle power of Doggystyle, there’s enough of that original spirit mixed with a modernized production sound to make Missionary one of Snoop’s more enjoyable full album listening experiences in several years.

Trees Speak's curious world keeps expanding with every successive release, and TimeFold is just as fascinating as the rest of their discography.

Like much of Fennesz's solo work from Endless Summer onward, Mosaic is a vast, immersive effort that bases its abstract soundscapes in raw emotions.

While Why Is the Colour of the Sky? doesn't offer any particularly memorable tunes or sentiments, it's definitely a vibe, and at 35 minutes in length doesn't overstay its welcome despite becoming quite immersive.

In the Real World displays all of Bibb's gifts on a single album as a lyricist, guitarist, blues stylist, music historian, and contemporary singer/songwriter. At once poignant and hopeful, Bibb has upped his own creative ante here.

If there's one thing that's evident while listening to the refreshing, back-to-basics craftsmanship of Oh Brother, it's that the Goldsmith brothers clearly know what they and Dawes are all about.

Most suited for a contemplative Sunday morning, Small Changes soothes even in its many moments of unease. Whether the songs express loneliness and numbness, or heartache and dejection, each has a conciliatory effect, like Kiwanuka -- his voice more upfront than ever -- knows that anyone in vaguely similar circumstances can relate.

Fate & Alcohol is the kind of album that gets into your bloodstream and lingers, ever so slightly shifting the way you see the world and your place in it. If it really is the end for Japandroids, it's a farewell that feels like it could go on forever.

Vicious Creature is a wilder ride than might be expected -- at times, it feels like these songs have been pent up inside Mayberry for years -- but it's great to hear her own her music so fully.

Much like on her debut, every song here offers its own treasures, and Heynderickx still sounds like no one else.

From Zero is a decent effort that contains all the band's hallmarks, even if it's not the exact same Linkin Park that is known and loved.

Yeat's off-center linguistic twists and personality-heavy performances are still the stars of the show, and LYFESTYLE balances Yeat's enormous presence with guest appearances from Kodak Black, Lil Durk, and Don Toliver.

Coming from an artist whose personality was at times their entire appeal, Eternal Atake 2's lack of compelling identity makes it even more of a letdown.

For the most part, however, Bouquet is a hollow shell of the artistry that Stefani once displayed at every turn. As basic, personality-free country-rock records go, Bouquet is perfectly serviceable.

At times, The Neon Gate is transcendent, though it's easy to get lost in its labyrinth of unicorns, demons, and castle grounds. It's certainly a more challenging listen than their earlier albums, but Nap Eyes have never been a mainstream concern. To that end, a sprawling D.I.Y. art-pop composite merely feels like one stop on a larger journey.

As on every new Telescopes album, the differences can be subtle, but as Halo Moon winds down, the overall feeling is decidedly softer, more contented, and less tortured than previous efforts.

This handsomely packaged box offers stellar sound across four discs. The sound on the final two suffers a bit as Carter's playing is sometimes difficult, though not impossible to hear: It's a minor, fleeting irritation.

Fever Longing Still leaves no doubt that he hasn't lost his touch, and it's a treat for anyone who has ever loved his work -- or even for folks who've never heard him before.

Dorji is simply one person making music in an isolated environment while the world is constantly in a tumultuous state, and his is simply his own feverish, spur-of-the-moment reaction to everything that's going on.

While Umbilical is still a nightmarish depiction of destroyed emotions and blind rage, its combination of production subtleties and light nods to '90s influences peel away just enough intensity to make the album Thou's most coherent and engaging work yet.

GNX is a pillar of reflective realness, a flag planted in the lineage of Black musical visionaries, a silhouette of the West Coast in the high beams of fame -- and Kendrick's most speaker-knocking set to date.

Though all of the players were experienced professionals on-stage at this point, the collective energy that they created together was still relatively new, and Live at Fillmore East, 1969 offers an unvarnished view of that very specific excitement, along with the humanizing jitters and joviality that came along with it.

Retrospective: Selected Recordings 1973-2023 is essential listening for Ferry fans, illuminating the broad scope of his musical taste, from glitter rock to synth pop to jazz and beyond, revealing through it all that he has remained as indelible as ever.

Live in Keele 1977 is one of the better entries in the Can live series, proving that their on-stage power was still in full effect, even as they were approaching the end of their run.

The Way Out of Easy equals its predecessor, but it also extends the quartet's musical vocabulary and sonic identity. While they may not be able to play ETA any longer, their musical signature and group communication prove they can make magic anywhere.

It's a more lighthearted chapter in the ongoing Papa M story, and some of its moments are among the most enjoyable in the project's entire catalog.

Mahashmashana, despite its weighty poeticism and nostalgic sonic grandeur, feels rooted in the here and now. Tillman is still a keen and sardonic observer of the human condition, but here he directs the proceedings with a gravitas that finally feels earned.

It's a lavish, well-considered and executed set that makes for quite the splurge for a Beatles fan with a nice phonograph set.

[The] Last Will and Testament is among Opeth's most adventurous and sophisticated outings. Like a cross between Watershed and In Cauda Venenum, it's heavier and more adventurous than either while bringing the band's past, present, and future under a single creative umbrella.

With Shawn, Mendes has crafted an album of sustained confessional intimacy, one that continually invites you to listen closely.

Nobody Loves You More is some of her finest music yet, and while any of these songs would've been a standout with one of her other projects, it's all the sweeter that they're hers alone.

An even more clearly defined rendering of the group's sound.

Keith Streng's vocals and guitar, Peter Zaremba's vocals and keyboards, Ken Fox's bass, and Bill Milhizer's drumming still lock together like a jigsaw puzzle, with even more enjoyable results.

The studio cuts find bandmates Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith in a similar contemporary mode as on their previous release, melding classic elements of their core sound with modern pop flourishes. .... On-stage they sound rich, dynamic, and detailed with a classy touring band that brings the entire catalog, new and old, to life.

Pursuing their independence has led to some of their most widely appealing songs, and Sniff More Gritty is the musically inventive, emotionally direct, razor-sharp album Du Blonde has always had in them.

On Nite Owls, he manages to pull all of these varied experiences and influences together in a cohesive way that's unmistakably his own.

The Crying Out of Things is a powerful high point in the Body's massive discography.

They’ve never been the most consistent band, making mistakes and careening down the wrong road in pursuit of transcendence – something they have managed to achieve a few magical times -- but they’ve never sounded this irrelevant or out of touch before.

The group's reflective take on grunge- and shoegaze-flavored indie rock is still in play -- such as on the shimmery surfaces of "What You Told Me," the churning distortion of "Something Exciting," and the echoey delay of the bittersweet title track -- but with a more polished net sound resulting from sessions produced by bandleader Soph Nathan, her Big Moon bandmate Fern Ford, and none other than longtime PJ Harvey associate John Parish.

A triumphant live album, Resuscitate! is as much a celebration of the evolution of Callahan's music as it is the shared experience between musicians and audience.

In their own oblique way, Rhetoric & Terror's ambling experiments feel confrontational; when so many artists are unwilling to flout the most basic musical conventions, Hemphill and company are still very much on their own path.

Chromakopia is less of a cohesive statement than Tyler's fans are used to hearing; it's erratic and candid at once, a strange pressure cooker of boasts and doubts that falls out of step with its deftly sequenced and thematically tight predecessors. But these are the sounds at the precipice of change -- perhaps it's fitting that Tyler can't quite package himself as neatly this time around.

Ecce Homo registers as strong, wildly creative, focused, and vulnerable. It may be his solo masterpiece.

Fun, naughty, and a little nasty, 3AM stretches the typical party-friendly novelty sound that Confidence Man perfected on their first two albums, showcasing artistic growth with a laser-focused intent to keep your body moving late into the night, when it feels like anything can (and will) happen.

In the end the album is strangely uplifting and yes, cleansing, as he washes out the sadness, pain, and suffering he's been through and ends up on his feet, bruised but still ready to carry on. By the end of the record, listeners are liable to feel the same way. There are no barriers or guardrails here, it's an unblinking gaze into the abyss, and victory over that bleakness, that can be shared by anyone brave enough to tag along.

Even compared to the brilliance of Elverum's albums in the late 2010s and early 2020s, Night Palace holds a special place in his discography. This document of the peace he found while reassembling his life and his music offers a deeply rewarding experience for fans who have loved his sound at any stage of his career.

With Last Leaf on the Tree, Willie Nelson and Micah have crafted a relaxed album of subtle virtuosity, as if every song could be the last.

Songs of a Lost World isn't just an album of unlikely listenability, though. It's a new chaper late-in-the-game so unexpectedly powerful that it's nothing short of stunning, and just as unexpectedly, it ranks among the band's best work.

Rest assured, there's plenty of rappity rap-rap on Alligator Bites as Doechii lays bare her paradoxical qualities -- declarations of dominance, examinations of self-doubt, both the pressures and exploits of her fame brought to light -- in vivid style.

The delicate acoustic closer "Stick Man Test" makes the entire journey end up feeling more like a soundtrack than a standard album.

It's fine work from a great songwriter who is following his passions while he can, and that makes it special.

This is the album Lone Justice should have been allowed to make in 1983, and in 2024 it remains music full of heart, soul, and passion. It was worth the wait.

With Planet Nowhere, Razorlight have made an album of catchy, no-nonsense anthems that capture the fizzy, garage-rock swagger of their best work.

Mining her musical upbringing and honoring her myriad inspirations, Halsey comes full circle, connecting her own youth and innocence with intimate adult ruminations on parenthood, aging, and legacy. It's an engrossing homage to the figures that made her into the artist -- and inspiration -- that she has become herself.

Cartoon Darkness is a sweaty, visceral thrill, apt for aggressive revelry, driving too fast, and scrapping for the fun of it. It's not a very friendly listen, but that's not the point: confrontational and cathartic, it's existential bloodletting with a warrior's fury and a shredded throat.