Calm is the sound of a band whose influences have continued to evolve right along with them and their fans.

At just 30 years old and with seven albums to her credit, Marling's songwriting has been honed to a level of literate maturity that few artists achieve in their careers.

The 2018 debut imparted a somewhat avant form of downtempo with singers, players, rappers, and samples -- crossing generations and genres -- all artfully woven into a contemplative statement. Friday Forever is similarly collaborative and collagist.

Ever-Roving Eye plays like a logical and slightly more daring sequel to his debut, moving forward into loose psychedelic shapes with pastoral chamber arrangements -- courtesy of woodwind player Paul von Mertens -- dotting the otherwise sparse landscape.

On this stunning debut, Sawayama captures Dua Lipa's future nostalgia and Poppy's metal-meets-pop savvy, rightfully making it her own with more depth, bigger thrills, and a limitless palette.

Nothing Is True & Everything Is Possible is either the best or the worst Enter Shikari outing to date. What it certainly isn't is dull.

The result is one of the brightest and most open-hearted LPs of Sexsmith's long career; his vocals in particular have always felt chronically pensive, but he sounds comfortable in a new way on these songs, not exactly outgoing but with just enough playfulness to be easily noticeable.

By adding these new sounds, the Cadillac Three seem younger and savvier, playing country-fried rock & roll for every imaginable creed, knowing that the best parties are the ones where everybody is invited.

His more ambitious second album, Mas Amable, pushes the sound even further, and arguably tops his debut. Designed as a continuous 48-minute suite, the album's smooth flow feels effortless, with very subtle shifts to the textures and rhythms as the piece steadily unfolds.

The group's first two post-reunion albums were fine and deeply satisfying, but The Universe Inside goes someplace most fans would never have expected. It's bold, challenging, and dreamlike stuff that stakes out new territory for the band and unexpectedly succeeds on the level of their best work.

Canada's Born Ruffians continue to hone their exuberant sound on their sixth album, 2020's punchy and inspired Juice. Produced by Graham Walsh, who has previously worked on similarly inventive efforts by Alvvays, !!!, and Holy Fuck, Juice is a live-sounding album, full of hooky shouted choruses, and tactile, analog instrumentation.

The Ripple Effect is offered as a standalone purchase and is easily enjoyed as such given the high quality of the duo's interaction.

For Their Love is still almost alarmingly ornate -- some of that might have to do with the omnipresent cathedral-like reverb -- but much like 2015's similarly outstanding (and elaborate) Rituals, there's really never a dull moment.

A warm throughline of empathy courses through the 19-song set, with tender acoustic numbers like "Splash of Light" and "Every Feeling," and nervy rockers such as "Love you So Bad" -- from the excellent Perpetual Motion People -- and "Restless Year" -- from the even better Transangelic Exodus -- dovetailing into emotionally satisfying moments that evoke John Hughes by way of Wes Anderson.

Rose may tend to nod at the past but she's not a revivalist, she blends these familiar sounds in slyly idiosyncratic, personal ways that give We Still Go to Rodeos a handsome, modern feel that's distinct from other retro-minded Americana records, her previous albums included.

While Trivium have always been stubborn about following their own way, What the Dead Men Say sounds like an intentional gift to longtime fans. Its consistency, diversity, energy, and songwriting prowess put the set on par with the band's very best work.

Sir Richard Bishop is an artist who has shown he can point his music in any number of directions, and the ten tracks on Oneiric Formulary each lead the listener to someplace worth visiting.

A striking and necessary companion to Hunter, Hunted expands that album's world -- and Calvi's artistry.

Simply incredible, timeless, and placeless music.

Do You Wonder About Me? is superior ear candy that won't hurt your intellectual teeth, and a more than worthy follow-up to 2017's fine Swear I'm Good At This.

Toledo isn't the first artist to discover getting what you want isn't the same thing as getting what you were hoping for, and the cooler, more precise, and less cozy surfaces of Making a Door Less Open suit these songs well, the inorganic tone meshing with the alienation that permeates the album. Despite all that, the simple yet effective melodies that buoyed Car Seat Headrest's earlier work are still recognizable, and the sincere, foggy tone of Toledo's voice adds a humanity that makes his uncertainty cut even deeper.

Shelby Lynne is a profound meditation on amorous complexity and cost; it's arguably the most powerful record in the songwriter's catalog.

It's simply fresh, exciting, beautiful music.

I Grow Tired But Dare Not Fall Asleep has a despairing seductive power.

City Burials is not a reinvention, but it does contain periodic re-engagement with the steely dynamics of heavy metal. Renkse's excellent songwriting, coupled with his best overall viocal performance, serve to energize Katatonia, who remain vitally creative in their third decade.

While it's not as brilliantly cohesive as Future Politics, Hirudin's exploration of losing someone and finding yourself sounds like the music Stelmanis had to make.

Whether compared to the progressions of Kirby's cross-continental inspirations (Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou, Andrew Hill, Yoshio Suzuki) or those of his nearest contemporaries (such as Garrett and Bremer/McCoy), My Garden is its own gratifying thing.

Downcast and spectral even by the standards of Lanegan's less-than-sunny body of work, Straight Songs of Sorrow is psychodrama as much as it is entertainment. That also makes it one of the most nakedly compelling albums Lanegan has given us, and anyone who has been interested in his music or his life will find it darkly mesmerizing.

Ignatius isn't strictly about reflection, though. There's some lethal, laser-focused ferocity in the Pusha T collaboration "Huntin Season," grade-A boasts and signature cackles over looped Peabo Bryson in "Me," and streetwise sermonizing in "Gov't Cheese."

It isn't a major departure than his previous few records, but it is a bit punchier, delivering more of a jolt of electricity and replicating the energy of his live shows a bit more. The rhythms here are a bit tighter and more complex.

Although there are some clumsy similes and metaphors, and a surplus of astrological references, its lyricism is undeniable, abundant in pithy rebukes and come-ons. And while the predominantly crawling tempos can have a tranquilizing effect, there's nuance to nearly every cut with high-level songwriting to match.

While there's certainly an audible sense of collaboration on Petals for Armor, it's Williams' ability to turn her dark, personal moments into anthems of survival that stick with you.

While this record sounds bleak on the surface, there's a strange sense of comfort in these songs; they acknowledge the sad state of the world even while attempting to transcend its darkness and uncertainty.

At just 28 minutes, Alphabetland fires on all cylinders throughout and bows out before it can wear out its welcome; it's a nearly miraculous example of a band returning to the studio after a long layoff and delivering at full strength.

Here and throughout A Steady Drip, Drip, Drip, Ron and Russel Mael riff on their history deftly, and the results are both timely and quintessentially Sparks.

PITH is a thrilling leap forward for the band that sees them hitting all the marks they hit so well on their debut and then leaping past them into new dimensions of sound and energy.

While some fans may prefer the more escapist dancefloor jams that introduced them, Regresa showcases Buscabulla as a band who can work in virtually any situation and deliver a truly original sound that inspires the listener. We need more records like this.

With Paradise Gardens, Dorval finds the strength to acknowledge darkness instead of feeling trapped by it, resulting in some of her most healing, self-empowering music.

Like 2018's Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt, All Visible Objects is a highlight in Moby's late-era catalog, a revitalization that serves both his passionately held beliefs and his core sound.

Hakim provides consolation that is flavorful and tripped-out. Moreover, it's a little reassuring that he's able to flash some of his pitch-black, bone-dry sense of humor. The first two lines of "Crumpy" in particular should not be missed.

A fine showcase for how Sleaford Mods boil down punk and hip-hop's frustration into eloquent outrage and anger, All That Glue helps the converted and newcomers alike play catch-up.

Paradise Lost sound as inspired and restless as ever. After all of the stylistic evolution, Obsidian seamlessly and dynamically entwines doom, gothic metal, and post-punk in brilliant songwriting and arrangements that showcase the band still standing, in pure angry, desolate form.

The quiet and gently unfolding "18 to 1" stands as the album's prettiest and most tonally pleasing cut, though for the patient listener, there is plenty of magic throughout the set as these two masters intertwine their ample talents.

Through it all, Vager and her band cut a jagged line through punk fervor, pop charm, and rock backbone, turning in an album that is equal parts ferocious, funny, and moving.

As wide-ranging as Banana Skin Shoes is, it never feels like Gough is dabbling. The album's sounds are as carefully considered as the motifs of tears, apples and snowy spring days that recur in its lyrics, and the flourishes of brass that pop up throughout feel like triumphant fanfares.

Dedicated Side B is just as heartwarming, fun, and catchy -- in other words, more of what Carly Rae Jepsen fans have come to know and love.

Consummation is a bold step forward and confirmation that Katie von Schleicher has a great deal to offer and should be creating satisfying music for a long time to come.

As disorienting as Future Teenage Cave Artists gets, it packs a potent emotional wallop.

It's an eclectic set, for sure, but loyal to a nostalgic musicality that doesn't take itself too seriously; there's a bit of a wink and smile to Italian Ice that adds an extra layer of charm.

Maybe she's lost her appetite to be a weird provocateur, but she has learned how to sharpen and stylize her attack, and that focus makes Chromatica one of her most consistent and satisfying albums.

Jeff Rosenstock is a Regular Joe, something that genuinely matters, and No Dream reminds us that sometimes the right kind of ordinary guy is something very special; may he never become jaded about the music and scene he clearly loves.

No matter the mood or mode, Haliechuk and Falco make nary a misstep and show they are equally adept at inspiring weird dance moves, conjuring up post-punk ghosts, or delivering indie rock thrills. At their best -- which is most of the time -- they leap past being a sum of their influences to make music that sounds supremely fresh, and if the shifts between sounds can be a little jarring on the first couple of listens, at least Harmony Avenue is never boring.

Headier and more reflective than that 2018 release yet laced with some drums with churn and bump beneath Gibbs' double-time wit, it reinforces the reputations of both artists in the hip-hop underworld.

RTJ4 distills the anger and frustration of the people through Run the Jewels' hard-hitting, no-nonsense revolution anthems. Trim with no filler, this fourth set from the outspoken duo provides relevant history lessons that are more useful than a classroom textbook.

Overall, the combo of the band's inspired playing, the note-perfect production, the memorably fun songs, and the vitality of their voices helps make The Prettiest Curse their best record yet. It might not be simple and true garage rock anymore, but Hinds show they are able to grow up a little without losing any of the qualities that made them special.

The album is another strong point in the case that Rolling Blackouts are making the best guitar pop anywhere in 2020.

The album's length is just about right, going by in an efficient 36 minutes but feeling satisfying at the end, and while fans are bound to pick favorites, there's not a real dud in the bunch.

Westerman creates music to think and daydream and plot adventures to. Arriving among a musical landscape of clean, but often vacuous bedroom pop, he has created something of lasting substance and clarity.

The restraint and love that the band show and the overall peacefulness of the music make for a lovely, warm summer day kind of album, perfect for daydreaming and pondering the timeless genius of Daniel Johnston.

Goons Be Gone isn't the perfect synthesis of chaos and control that No Age have been searching for their entire career, but it finds some of their best songs and most fruitful experiments presented in a style that's never sounded more singularly their own.

Overall, it's a lovely return to the scene for Sonic Boom that finds him in full control of his vision and making music that stands proudly next to the best work he made in his so-called glory days in the 1990s.

Like the obtuse artists that LA Priest takes notes from, the best moments on Gene come when these perspectives are deeply inward looking and warmly welcoming at the same time.

2nd Grade make the small moments count, and Gill and his friends have made a record that fans of indie pop, power pop, and good old-fashioned small "p" pop should rally around and share with their friends and family.

If there is one complaint about this beguiling, driving outing, it's that after its 44-minute running time, Gogo Penguin's "magic in motion" aesthetic is so beautifully articulated in this immersive, mysterious music, they will leave listeners wanting much, much more.

Fantasize Your Ghost is less playful and edgier than Parts; at the same time, it's more thematically and musically ambitious, and Ohmme sound stronger and more assured here, even when they paradoxically sound their most uncertain.

This blend of warmth and invention is what's so appealing about Pick Me Up Off the Floor: the shape may seem familiar, but the construction of the songs and the inventiveness of the performance keeps it fresh and surprising even after the first listen.

To Love Is to Live is an unabashedly, thrillingly wild ride, and as Beth throws everything she has at her audience, she fully reveals the multitudes she contains.

Already masterful at creating sad, smart songs, Bridgers reaches new depths with Punisher.

The effects-heavy guitar constructions of Arrow are the most emotionally intense Noveller material from Lipstate yet, making it easily one of her most expressive and fully formed statements to date.

This is lacking neither imagination nor creativity, and is another transfixing exhibition of the beatmaker's command. The tracks are a little longer on average but still rarely exceed two minutes. What few tracks eclipse the mark never drag.

Armed with his newfound sense of self-acceptance and determination, Garratt finds his voice on Love, Death & Dancing, embracing the darkness while shining some light into the shadows.

Nomad's repetition is never static, but moves shapelessly and quietly like a calm river.

Its pop-R&B foundation is a little slicker, still tricked out with the occasional trap-styled production techniques -- probing bass, rattling percussion -- twisted just enough to not sound overdone.

Rough and Rowdy Ways is akin to transformational albums such as Love and Theft, and Slow Train Coming. It's a portrait of the artist in winter who remains vital and enigmatic. At nearly 80, Dylan's pen and guitar case still hold plenty of magic.

Naeem's debut album, Startisha, is beautiful and reaching.

Familiar yet unpredictable moments like these make Enter the Mirror a confident, dynamic celebration of Maserati's 20th year of reimagining the future of decades past with 20/20 hindsight.

Patience provides the most inspired-sounding one yet. It's just more proof that despite not being the flavor of the month anymore, Sondre Lerche is quietly releasing some of the best and most interesting pop music of his era.

G3 is heavy on bangers, with all tracks whizzing by in two or three minutes, and the album constantly stays sharp and exciting.

No longer masked by layers of texture, Summerlong allows Johnson to showcase his gifts for songwriting and psychedelic wandering in equal measure.

Survival's unguarded emotions -- the joy in creating a world in which to thrive, the pain endured along the way -- radiate an honesty that's all the more striking because it's so rare.

Lamb of God is a tense, yet confident album for taut and uncomfortable times.

This album is mature in the best ways without dimming its sense of purpose, and it presents three major talents in full command of their gifts and their ideals.

After such a reflective and mournful era with The Canyon, it's refreshing to see this usually energetic group kick it back into high gear with such control, hunger, and ferocity.

A sadder, wiser, and stronger album, Shadow Offering reflects big changes in Braids' world, but proves they're still at their finest when they dig into -- and sit with -- complex emotions.

No matter what direction his music takes on Sleep on the Wing, it's quintessentially Bibio, and spending more time with it is a joy.

The Black Dahlia Murder's superlative musicianship balances technicality, harmony, brutality, and mature sophistication on Verminous. While their style evolves somewhat here, it's a progression so smooth and in character, it's almost guaranteed to excite fans.

With Planet's Mad, Baauer charts a journey that elicits emotion through physical response, channeling rage and frustration through his songs in a cathartic release that plays like musical therapy for a galaxy's worth of ills.

Though happiness is elusive in Owen's world, beauty is not, and The Avalanche is a striking testament to Mike Kinsella's gifts, where even sadness can pay handsome rewards under the right circumstances.

Hearing Wire riff on their past and present so brilliantly makes 10:20 both a dream come true for longtime fans and a surprisingly good introduction to their music for newcomers.

It's retro soul at its absolute best, and anyone who has a partner who makes them feel the way Bryant feels about Ann Peebles on this LP has plenty to be thankful for.

None eclipse "Request" off VII, but the Kehlani collaboration "Morning" is a seductive delight, while the snaking (and accurately titled) "Boomin" is a treat for lovers of late-'90s R&B with explicit references to Blaque and much of the Swing Mob (plus an appearance from the latter's Missy Elliott). Confident diversions into breezy Afro-pop and underwater dancehall lead to a half-hour stretch covering various romantic woes.

The trio -- singer/keyboardist/guitarist Joel Robinow, bassist/guitarist Eli Eckert, and drummer/technician Raj Ojha -- who had played together in various incarnations in the Bay Area before forming Once & Future Band, not only sound like a veteran arena combo here but offer the material to make them shine.

If you've fallen out of love with indie rock -- or even if your devotion never so much as flickered -- Somewhere just might be enough to remind you why you loved the sound in the first place.

Khruangbin's music can still work as an ebullient, sun-baked soundtrack to daily activities, social gatherings, or cross-country road trips, but their songs have gotten more expressive and soul-searching, and Mordechai rewards closer listening more than any of their previous recordings.

Even when they slow down, there's a lot of excitement in Pottery's music. Though they frequently threaten to steamroll over anyone within earshot of Welcome to Bobby's Motel, the band have so much fun that their listeners probably won't mind.

Shah presents as a mystery wrapped in an enigma, when in reality she's just innately talented and resolute in her convictions. Unsurprisingly, the mesmerizing Kitchen Sink distills those two predilections into something that's both compelling and otherworldly.

Shygirl's hard-edged yet sensual delivery on "Watch" is another fine example of KiCk i's forward-looking femininity, while "La Chíqui" is as brilliantly unhinged as a team-up between Arca and SOPHIE should be, with self-destructing beats and vocals that reach for the skies. These kinds of unapologetic contradictions and fragments coexist on KiCk i in startling, beautiful, and genuine ways, making it a complete, and triumphant, portrait of Arca's artistry.

The individual tunes hold their own, but Monovision is a record where the whole means more than the individual numbers, since LaMontagne strikes a very specific mood -- one that's reassuring, even soothing -- and then manages to sustain it until the end.