While the results follow the melodic template that Phillips has made his own since his work with Grant Lee Buffalo, listening to Strangelet confirms the man sounds as good as ever and remains plenty imaginative.

The album flows by with the scrapbooked flair of an intricately constructed sound collage, but one whose loose ends and experimental moments are firmly rooted in Krautpop rhythms.

Buffalo Tom are still firmly in control of what was best and most important in their music, and Quiet and Peace is a fine reminder of why they mattered then, and why they matter now.

OH (Ohio) is a singular accomplishment, and it's hard to imagine anyone but Lambchop doing this so well--or even imagining it at all.

Thrice Woven marks the welcome return of the power and dark majesty of one America's most original metal bands.

The way that Mystics bounces back and forth between its ethereal and zany moments gives it a disjointed, uneven feel that makes the album a shade less satisfying than either Yoshimi or Soft Bulletin.

The best thing the album does is to showcase Adele's titanic vocal ability, which -- more than a few times on 21 -- is simply spine-tingling.

Wild Peace is a largely subdued affair, but there's so much happening just below the surface of the music that it's easy to miss some of the album's buried brilliance while you're distracted by its glimmering melodies.

The EP is a startling introduction to a group unafraid to bring raging paranoia to the dancefloor.

The man is full of contradictions and lyrics that demand deciphering, so Str8 Killa becomes an excellent entry point, maybe by default and maybe by design. Either way, it's a necessary purchase for gangsta rap fans and a gateway drug that will send you straight to the mixtape underground.

As on any good Beck record, Compass finds time for everything from R&B to hard rock to the type of gut-bucket experimental rock that Tom Waits would be proud of. The big difference is in the vocal performances. It's clear that Lidell is wearing his heart on his sleeve here, and we see a portrait of a person, not a personality.

Despite some missteps, like an attempt at rapping on "Bitter Bug" or a slight lapse into new age on "Symmetry," there are a handful of songs that redeem the ambling nature of the album.

These 11 Short Stories of Pain & Glory are deliberate in their intent--uplifting numbers for swaying shoulder-to-shoulder with friends before emptying out of the bars onto the dark concrete of Lansdowne on a Friday (or Wednesday) night.

Deschanel's songs are simple and sad tales of heartbreak and missed connections, with hooky melodies and not a single artless moment to be found.

Dead Man's Bones isn't perfect, but it's often fascinating and nearly always charming--and Shields and Gosling wouldn't have it any other way.

There is a wide range of ideas at work on Home of the Strange, which makes for a satisfying, engaging listen.

Machine Messiah is an ambitious, angry, hungry outing. Sepultura remain vital in their creativity; they expand their palette dramatically while fully integrating the sounds that brought them here.

Easily surpassing a thematic exercise, 2019 has some essential original material by Dacus -- particularly "My Mother & I" -- and a handful of covers that are bound to provide a lasting preferred version (or two) for fans.

One Deep River doesn't necessarily break new ground for Knopfler, but it does add a clutch of well-written, impeccably played songs to his canon.

It may never fly in the conservatory, but the music of Clogs is sure to make the bar set feel a little more cultured.

Taken as pieces or as a whole, the album is easily the equal of anything their contemporaries have released and an exhilaratingly chilled-out listen from start to finish that will warm up even the longest winter night.

For her eighth studio album, Home, before and after, she animates ten unpredictable tracks with a combination of elegant piano accompaniment, overtly playful pop, and a return to dramatic symphonic fare, often within the same song.

Despite the ever-present irony, the songs never feel insincere and the record is inherently strong throughout, making it a solid start to their career.

Scuttling percussion, noodling electric pianos, and rubbery basslines remain suited for Bronson's nasal, humor-laced self-praise and subtle jabs at himself, whether he's boasting about his swimmer's body and celebrity chef friends, lamenting his inability to dunk, or proclaiming "Your shit lack quality/I'm sittin' right behind my chick makin' pottery."

Everything on these two discs fits into the theme and flow.

This music declares that Clark is one artist who will see to it that the blues does indeed have a future, which is what makes him important and Sonny Boy Slim a serious leap forward from Blak and Blu.

In other words, this is another Thom Yorke solo album, and it sounds really nice on decent headphones.

With Intoxication, Shaggy has once again found that perfect balance of slick and streetwise, and added career-defining single number three as the cherry on top.