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.