Stapleton could use a bit of Petty's flair -- there's not a lot of humor here, nor are there any flirtations with modern sounds -- but his straight-ahead style nevertheless satisfies on Starting Over.

Confetti is an album of brightly colored feel-good songs, meant to light your way to the dancefloor.

They don't dwell upon the past, they barrel forward with a set of turbocharged blues and high-octane rock that doesn't merely sound good, it feels nourishing.

Basinski approaches the varying chapters of Lamentations with an openness and fluidity that gels together even his most dissimilar ideas. Lamentations wanders cautiously between dark and hovering gloom, tender reflection, and moments of wistful nostalgia that almost feel gleeful. It's one of the more accessible of Basinski's offerings, and continues building on the delicate language of subtext and observation that makes his work so important.

All of his pleasantly confusing sounds align, creating an atmosphere that perfectly communicates the themes of openness and quiet excitement for the entirety of the album.

Sell Sole II finds DeJ Loaf in full capacity of her powers with an album that's consistent and controlled and doesn't relax for a second. While more songs default to her specific brand of pressurized beats and melodic hooks than brash, energetic anthems, DeJ's aloof confidence comes through even in the album's quietest moments.

The confidence that courses through Self Worth is matched by Mourn's unguarded songwriting.

Though it's a shame that their 1990 reunion album Chain isn't acknowledged, Pylon Box is an otherwise near-flawless summation of a great and unique band, and it's absolutely worth every penny of its purchase price.

It's a testament to his vision and do-it-all ability that he can work with roughly 50 fellow producers and guest artists and line up the results for an hour-long set with tracks that flow forth like they're being decanted.

The band is at the top of their game and the songs all sound great, but more importantly, the messages they're expressing have never been more relevant.

This is avant-punk for the ageless with songs that could appeal to the crustiest post-punk fanatic and those young enough to be living through their first global crisis.

The death-centered storytelling of both the lyrics and podcast excerpts works well with Tunng's ever-ambitious blend of mystical folk and futuristic pop, and ultimately Dead Club's perspectives on the great beyond come off as curious and playful where they could have skewed far more fatalistic.

While vintage '70s and early-'80s jazz-funk aesthetics are at the core of Kuroda's sound, Fly Moon Die Soon never sounds retro and often feels less like a jazz album and more like a hip-hop or electronic artist's conception of a jazz album. Of course, that hybridized quality speaks to Kuroda's alchemic appreciation for music that goes far beyond the edges of the jazz tradition.

Ultimate Mixes do deliver a state-of-the-art aural upgrade, which is a selling point for fans who have purchased this material before.

It's an album that demands close attention to catch its myriad details, but contradictorily lulls the listener into a state of distraction with its hypnotic pulse and deceptively calm exterior. As a result, the hidden textures and purposefully clashing tones of Fading might not reveal themselves upon first listen, but an album this dense and intentionally drawn just gets better each time it's revisited.

Even with the occasional programmed drums, some kind of peace is a consistently tranquil set, with enough shape and variety to the tracks to stave off ambient or easy listening claims.

Four or five less tracks and a little less time spent extrapolating on the end of the world would have made for a far more engaging listen, even taking into consideration how rare new material from Busta Rhymes can be in this phase of his work.

The faintly cosmopolitan dance-pop grooves and finely measured ballads offer few unexpected turns. They're set apart more by a lack of gospel and soul, consequently rendering Love Goes plain by Smith's standard -- unfortunate for an artist whose instrument is anything but that.

Dizzee has accomplished a lot in two decades, from pioneering a genre as a hotly tipped teenage prodigy to collaborating with pop stars on chart-topping hits, but his dedication to his craft has never been stronger, and E3 AF is proof of his lasting vitality.

SURVIVAL HORROR is one of the band's best distillations of their extremes, providing just enough brutality without sacrificing their evolving vision of how melodic and experimental a metal band can be.

Such an intense, sustained focus does mean Positions succeeds in sounding sexy but it doesn't do much outside of that: apart from the title track, few songs stand out as individual songs, the rhythm and productions are all painted in shades of grey, and Grande disappears into the setting of her own design.

Hitting the same highs as her triumphant 2000s stretch -- namely Light Years, Fever, X, and Aphrodite -- this glittery, feel-good set is nothing short of euphoric, a dozen near-perfect gems that pay respect to the album's namesake era while updating the production with thrilling results

The boogie that was the trademark of his best-known work is almost entirely absent, and while Bolan's wordplay was often marvelous, many of these artists opt to treat them as grand philosophical statements, ignoring the wit that was so much of his lyrics. A few of the performers make this work, notably Lucinda Williams, who sounds beatific on "Life's a Gas," and Nick Cave, who somehow finds a mournful nostalgia in "Cosmic Dancer."

Though Sour Cherry Bell delves into gloomier, more despairing moods than Precious Systems, it maintains a balance through radiant energy and never descends into overpowering hopelessness.

Inward-looking, mysterious, and awash in found sounds, bucolic electronics, and naturalistic imagery, Don't Shy Away is both inexplicable and compelling, and is easily Loma's most rewarding outing to date.

Burden of Proof finds Benny the Butcher fully formed after years of development and growth. There's even a marked upgrade in production compared to his 2018 outing Tana Talk 3.

Sleepless Night is as warm and comforting as a cup of hot chocolate, and while it hardly seems like a major work (and it isn't), it's thoroughly enjoyable and a reminder that you can hardly do better than Yo La Tengo in making a playlist of treasured oldies.

For all of its epic grandiosity, May Our Chambers Be Full only clocks in at a mere 37 minutes, but in doing so leaves a more indelible impression.