The appealing thing about Soberish is how it holds two thoughts (and sounds) simultaneously, a record that revives the spirit of Phair's earliest albums while casually leaning into her middle age.

An album that offers familiar comfort even if it doesn't precisely sound like any previous Crowded House record.

This questioning, comforting, quietly stunning album reveals the good things that can come out of pain and grief.

What makes Hardware cook are the very elements that always work for Gibbons: deceptively sharp songwriting that supports full-throttle rockers and soulful, slow(er) grooves. It's a formula that's yielded great results for Gibbons throughout the years, and they do once again here.

As difficult and cathartic as the subject matter is, it's clear that she has come out on the other end and is not only thriving as an artist, but has found peace as a human. Having such a rich and compelling story to tell on a debut album is rare, and Russell delivers her tale with the utmost grace and finesse.

Their studio albums solidified Can's reputation as one of the most important and groundbreaking bands of their time, but Stuttgart 1975 exemplifies how that creative spirit translated to the stage, highlighting yet another side of Can's limitless ability.

Bodies is one of the stronger offerings from AFI's late era, stirring both the physical and emotional with urgency and heart.

While the powerfully cathartic Big Mess does feel overlong, it may serve as a rare case where that's masterfully appropriate.

At a brisk ten tracks, Ancient Dreams is a quick dose of what makes Marina great: heartfelt honesty from a fellow misfit consistently pushing the boundaries of pop.

The comforts A Few Stars Apart offer may not be original, but part of their power lies in their familiarity: it's the sound of tradition moving forward through the bad times and into the good ones.

Present Tense seems like a very good but somewhat straightforward Facs album until the last two tracks. The band took a more experimental approach to writing and recording that stands out on "Present Tense," where backward drums and cryptic observations ("all life remains kneeling in love") take on an almost spiritual dimension that feels equally ominous and optimistic, and on the brilliant closer "Mirrored," which brings the album full circle by adding a metal-tinged doom to the heaviness the band hinted at on the opening track "XOUT."

While Kings of Convenience don't cover fresh territory with Peace or Love, they do what they do as impeccably as ever here and offer a handful changeups and hummable tunes along the way. It should serve as a welcome return for any established fans.

Thematically inward-gazing, Lung reflects on matters of loneliness, substance abuse, and mental health, though the music comes across as inspired rather than overtly dour.

On Mother Nature, Kidjo delivers not only an infectious, danceable transcontinental showcase for the African continent's musical influence on global traditions, but emphatically proclaims it a primary engine in pop's future.

This would be an impressive first salvo from a new artist, and coming from a seasoned veteran, it's a truly welcome sign that her creative well isn't about to run dry.

Outlaw R&B suggests Danny Lee Blackwell hasn't completely turned his back on the Myth of a Man experiment, but he knows the right amount of dirt can give music some valuable texture, and this music is all the more enjoyable for its increase in grit.

It's an exciting album that comes on with such subtlety it's easy to miss how immaculately constructed it is the first several times through.

With Dacus' warm vocals and melodies leading the way throughout, Home Video is an engrossing set steeped in life lessons and nostalgia.

On Quietly Blowing It, M.C. Taylor reminds us he knows how we feel, and that he feels the same way; perhaps that helps only so much, but there's a lot to be said for a friendly voice during a hard time, and that's just what this album delivers.

Like Squirrel Flower's debut, Planet (i) is a journey through an ever changing landscape and marks a noticeable creative step forward for Williams.

When the production magic keeps up with her boundless spirit, the songs reach a unique hotspot of fun and infectiousness that makes all of Doja Cat's disparate impulses gel into an exhilarating whole.

Without drawing undo attention to himself, Darnielle has been moving from strength to strength as one of indie rock's most vital and original talents, and Dark in Here demonstrates he's working at the top of his game and it's a joy to hear.

All of this would merely be bubblegum pop fun if not for the band's knack for writing the kind of Hypercolor, stadium-sized singalong anthems that make up much of Greatest Hits.

For an album that thinks big, Escapades avoids being a sprawling mess, as the songs are incredibly focused and immediate, never trying to stuff too many ideas in, and never overstaying their welcome. It's far more mature than the harsh electro-house of Waters of Nazareth-era Justice, but it feels like a return to that level of creative inspiration.

By pushing each other out of their comfort zones, Beth and Gillespie make Utopian Ashes an unabashedly theatrical -- and consistently entertaining -- look at falling out of love.

This is not a record for people who like their noise rock packaged nicely or for those who need a melody or song structure; it's for people whose idea of the best thing to do on a Friday night is being locked in a basement with three sweaty rockers bashing out songs with all the fiery energy and unschooled enthusiasm of their heroes.

No surprises, no alterations, no problem. It's reassuringly great music made by a group that know exactly what they are doing and aren't afraid to keep doing it and doing it well.

Total absorption reveals that this is simply part of Sault's ever-expanding and increasingly colorful tapestry, no slapdash addendum.