It's elegant, regal even, yet so immersed in its icy solitude that the listener is often left looking for cracks in the facade instead of common ground.

It's a promising debut that should appeal particularly to fans of its electro-pop-minded contributors.

The more subdued affect of Aloha makes it a less immediately satisfying listen than New Magic, but that does nothing to change that this is a rewarding effort from an exciting and engaging talent.

Nothing is lost in the process and tracks like "Bora Lá" with singer Rogê and Leporace, "Samba in Heaven" with Joans, and "This Is It (É Isso)" with Pascoal and Leporace, retain all the funky, soulful rhythms and hooky melodies that made Mendes' seminal albums so captivating.

Suite for Max Brown may be a direct sequel to its predecessor, but it's nonetheless creative and thoughtful. It's also very accessible. Experimental music never sounded this welcoming.

The project's first album is a chaotic, unsettling mess filled with manic, distorted beats, mutated samples, and several varieties of intense vocalizations, from suffocated guttural screaming to commanding operatic virtuosity. While registering as some form of post-metal on the surface, the album is actually devoid of guitars.

Horns and lush backing vocals do appear here and there, as does a slightly misguided dip into a borderline cartoonish vocal baritone on the otherwise strong "Ol' Man River," but the best parts of American Standard occur in the intimate moments that constitute Taylor's wheelhouse and of which there are more than enough to satisfy.

Sometimes intricate, but more of an album-length mood that a collection of memorable songs, it's strangely well-suited for attentive headphone listening and for unwinding.

As a whole, Printer's Devil is both stronger and sweeter than their prior sets, likely resulting in a more lasting impression for casual listeners and a surefire hit for established fans.

A Situation, the group's third album, sounds similar to the first two, except this time there's a greater presence of lyrics, and the songs sound more urgent.

All told, Forward Motion Godyssey isn't quite as much fun as Post Animal's debut, but they still deliver that characteristic warmth as well as uncommonly sharp hooks, fills, and theatrics of a nature that should delight air guitarists and drummers everywhere.

Wasted Shirt is a collaborative project in the best sense, as the strengths of both Segall and Chippendale are at the forefront on Fungus II, and if this album is less accessible than most of Segall's recent releases, it has excitement and daring to spare.

The original lyrics tend to be powerful enough to fit in with the extensive quotations, whether Mhysa is referencing a black spiritual, Lucille Clifton, or Janet Jackson.

In other hands, that much material could turn into a tedious slog, but Lil Baby manages to keep every moment fresh, finding a unique and unlikely midway between artistic inspiration and commercially viable entertainment.

Collector feels a bit uneven at times, but in the end Disq has enough attitude and smart ideas to keep things exciting.

Sorry You Couldn't Make It declares there should be a place for Swamp Dogg in the country pantheon alongside Charley Pride, Stoney Edwards, Darius Rucker, and the other brave artists who've confronted the color line in Nashville.

This music shows that Buck is a very good friend to have in the studio; he knows how give a song the setting it needs, and this is a dark but richly entertaining delight.

Just as Fever captured a snapshot of a young artist breaking through to worldwide fame in real time, Suga finds Megan Thee Stallion experiencing the growing pains of success. The songs reflect this in their lyrical content, overall shift in tonality, and even in the small steps they take towards more commercial sounds.

Simulcast could be thought of as the more "background music" version of Weather, but even without lyrics, it's still meant to put your mind in motion. Both versions are equally worth the roughly half-hour it takes to listen to each.

Despite a few poignant moments, Manchester Calling is dominated by lively, playful songs, and though the track list might have been improved by cutting a handful of the more similar ones, the couple can't be justly accused of allowing any filler.

While Deap Lips lose some of the raw immediacy of Deap Vally and don't ascend to the songwriting heights of Flaming Lips, they create a mood of their own that pulls only a little from each group. Required listening for anyone already invested in either band and a wild, enjoyable listen for even the uninitiated.

It's definitely a step back in the right direction after the last album's stumble and stacks up to be their most consistent and enjoyable record to date.

Ricky Music's high-contrast, theatrical style plays out like a mini (24-minute) chamber-synth song cycle about infatuation, sex, and heartbreak -- with just enough balance between candidness and self-awareness to keep us rooting for the lead.

Even though it's a lengthy journey and some of the songs start to feel similar, nothing here is filler.

Longtime Districts fans may well be surprised by the surfaces of You Know I'm Not Going Anywhere, but after a few listens it's clear this music has as much (or maybe more) that connects it to their past than that which separates it from their larger body of work.

Dungen Live certainly captures the side of the group that's more interested in exploration than writing catchy psych-pop songs and shows that they are the equal of just about any other band of their ilk that might want to take a run at them. It may not be essential Dungen, but it is well worth tracking down and giving a spin any time some good old fashioned uninhibited psychedelic wandering is what the doctor ordered.

Set aside this inclination toward sneering solipsism, which not only characterizes but enlivens nearly every song, and I Am Not a Dog on a Chain is one of the better latter-day Morrissey records: the sense of musical daring reveals how placid and complacent he's been for the better part of a decade.

The album seemingly becomes more spaced out towards the end, but the concluding "Slow Movement: Sand" feels like a solemn resolution and is one of its more affecting tracks.