It's a quietly satisfying album with a determined fragility that makes it all the more moving.

Coming in at just over 50 minutes, it's the band's most streamlined collection of music since 2008's career-defining Rook, and their most vital offering to date.

Pale Green Ghosts has a little something for everyone, and while all of the over-sharing can be a little overbearing, Grant's huge, expressive, and oddly comforting voice acts as a sedative, turning even the saddest, raunchiest, and most uncomfortable turn of phrase into a caress.

The album isn't a comeback but a continuum, and a welcome return from a true oracle of traditional song.

Musgraves slyly waltzes right up to the edge of kitsch without ever crossing over into camp. It's a delicate balancing act that she performs with ease because there's a lightness to her delivery and also to her original tunes.

The album's focus on horn arrangements and roomy, dreamlike production gives it a singular feel, one where listening through the entire album feels not unlike wading through a field of tall reeds as an inexplicably sad autumn day fades into twilight.

Illegal Moves is another strong chapter of Sunwatchers' unique voice and probably their most clear-minded presentation of their collective powers to date.

Given the multitudes within It's a Beautiful Place, it's not surprising that it can take a while for all of its pieces to click together. Nor is it a surprise that this album is more of a grower than Everyone's Crushed -- Water from Your Eyes aren't interested in smoothing out their edges or repeating themselves. They're compelled to imagine it different

It may even be their most consistently impressive and overall most cohesive record to date.

With this album, English has created something awe-inspiring: strange, elemental, and profound. Very little music so masterfully evokes the towering, savage beauty of the natural world, and the insignificance of man in the face of its enormity and power.

The overall tone of Sister Cities is intense and, at times, comes across as unrelentingly dour. Still, the Wonder Years' maturation from suburban pop punk ennui to (literal) world-weary emo desperation feels like a logical progression, and it's hard to fault them for tackling bigger subjects.

Slowdive may not be a dramatic return that will blow people away; it's far too peaceful and calm for that. It will comfort fans of the band, both those who loved them at the time and those who have discovered them in the intervening years, by being very much a Slowdive album. One that feels modern enough, but also very classic at the same time.

No songs are highly energized, but Carey sounds like she's deriving joy from each one.

The set moves from strength to strength, but honestly, this is to be expected, as they made very few missteps on their first two records. Although this doesn't paint a complete picture, the recording does capture the added layers of dissonance and Talbot's erratic on-stage persona, as he switches from a snarling, sardonic showman to a political advocate to a humble bastion of the people.

It's not just a follow-up to their first mildly disappointing venture, it's a bracing reminder of just how thrilling King Gizzard can be at their peak.

While The Monster Who Hated Pennsylvania doesn't necessarily break new ground, it's a strong, affecting set from a songwriter who proves himself among the elite at doing more with less.

Come with Fierce Grace is easy to embrace on its own -- even if some tracks lack distinctive identities. No matter its release as a separate entity, Come with Fierce Grace is part and parcel of GOLD; it's not a mere sequel but a truly worthy companion album.

It would all add up to another listen-to-it-once bit of over-serious Americana noir if the songs weren't so good. But they're good.

While varied in style and arrangements, the album maintains a certain heartfelt, longing tone and unvarnished immediacy that engage in tandem with its solid songwriting core.

At only 23 years old, she already has four albums to her credit and while her talent is obvious, a touch more vulnerability wouldn't hurt.

While Black Times clocks in at more than an hour, its incessant drive, appended by lush textures, a diverse sonic palette, rich dynamic, and melodic variations keep it edge-of-your-seat compelling. All told, it's evidence that the younger Kuti has come into his own with Egypt 80; he is charting his own path from the roots of his father's music.

Wainwright's growth as a composer/arranger and his experiences in the classical realm are apparent here. Though, to his credit as a tunesmith, his words and melodies remain center stage.

Though the sonic palette may be tweaked a little, the band's sense of disdain and frustration toward the little things is still gloriously intact.

Non-vocal tones do occasionally pop up here, most notably some well-placed piano lines, but Barwick's voice is undeniably the focus here, in all its evocative, otherworldly glory.

Dilate proves that the members of Bardo Pond keep finding ways to reinvent their sound, surpassing themselves each time they do.

When an album is as effortlessly warm and pretty as this one is, it's hard to begrudge the band a return to more familiar sonic pastures, and even more so when Mouthfuls suggests that the Fruit Bats' next album will be even more winning.

Walks the narrow path between playful adventurousness and tuneful accessibility with ragged elegance and swaggering confidence.

Transfiguration is a quiet record and might lose some listeners in it's sleepy summer melancholy, but M. Ward is the real deal.