All of Touch reflects the curiosity that has driven Tortoise since the beginning -- and still drives them all these years later.

Describe contains some of Jadagu's most personal songwriting, while the arrangements show that she's constantly looking to push her sound forward.

With its comparatively restrained approach only reasserting Carlile's gifts as a confident, compassionate, and sympathetic communicator, Returning to Myself offers an equally compelling edition of the musician that may appeal to new, less country-inclined fans.

With the exception of a few clunkers, this disjointed flow becomes a defining characteristic of Love Chant. There’s a sense throughout that Dando is now comfortable enough with himself to take all the time he needs to explore weird ideas and decide where they start and end. That embrace of his own artistic whims is admirable, as is his choice to tread new ground rather than try to re-create his most successful work from the past.

The whole record is a wonderfully triumphant moment for Lawrence, and if it gains him some new fans -- as it just might -- that's great because the world needs odd-duck pop stars, and he certainly fits that bill.

That Wasn't a Dream is an unexpected, welcome surprise. Its ambitious tonal, textural, and harmonic palettes are intricately tied in a series of sonically sophisticated compositions reflecting the endless possibilities for 21st century jazz in improvisation, aesthetic inclusion, and production.

It's like the two musicians are navigating their way through the wilderness without knowing where they're headed, yet once they finally get there, they backtrack and trace a logical path so that it seems like they knew what they were doing the entire time.

LOTTO is disorienting and messy, but there's undoubtedly something real and honest about it.

A song like "Maelstrom" lets loose with a thundering bass drum and more-distant syncopated snare. For the most part, though, tracks levitate above ground along webs of acoustic guitar, piano, layered vocals, and atmospheric shimmer to the point where it's sometimes difficult to distinguish one song from another.

Equally poised and unpredictable, Some Like It Hot's poetic, mischievous, raucous, and heartbroken songs come close to a definitive statement from a band in constant motion.

Virtually every element, whether played or programmed, is in service to Parks' sybaritic visions, and they all stimulate movement free from restraint.

His thoughtful pacing doles out thrilling moments worth waiting for, while the slower segments allow for the energy to build again.

These are all big-hearted songs dreamed up in small rooms, and painted in bold Broadway strokes.

While there are some faint echoes of that personality and complexity on UY SCUTI, the essence of what made him so special is largely lost in a clutter of disconnected or only partially realized ideas.

He delivers a modern jazz recording constructed from sounds, strategies, and sonorities collected across his decades-long career and uses them to create something bracingly different.

As always, Pollock's rich and deeply resonant songwriting is elevated by sweeping chamber pop arrangements and the emotionally attuned production of her husband and ex-Delgados drummer, Paul Savage.

Where Revealer occasionally spilled into showy musical prowess, Ace finds balance and takes Cunningham's art to the next level.

Geese at their most chaotic, delivering an assured yet jarring set of no wave-tinged art-rock missives -- "Trinidad," "Cobra," and "Taxes" -- that are as unnerving as they are affecting.

The Cords LP easily lives up to the hype. .... With the charm factor at 11, plenty of bah-bah-bahs, and a couple early-Beatles harmonics thrown in for good measure, The Cords is an all-ages bop fest that welcomes everyone but the creeps, poseurs, and haters.

So far, Liminal is the strangest of the Wolfe/Eno collaborative efforts, playing around with sonics and textures while still retaining an air of familiarity.

Even at over three hours, Disquiet holds together exceptionally well, from idea to execution, in a spontaneous, otherworldly flow.

Corporal is a stunning reinvention for the duo that will please those who like their psychedelia spiked with unhealthy amounts of real danger and devil may care sonic experimentation.

This doesn't sound much like anything Miller has released in the past, and that only adds to its power; this is a chronicle of a man pondering an uncertain future with both courage and trepidation, and A Lifetime of Riding by Night is the most powerful solo effort he's ever made.

Ultimately, 40 is a delightful way to sum up the career of a band that's been constantly surprising and surprisingly constant for far longer than a band has the right to.

Throughout its first ten tracks, Fatal Optimist offers occasional philosophical gems, like "Sometimes a good thing can break you/Sometimes a bad thing can save you" from "Good Lair," a song that also wonders, "Is it really that bad to cover up the sad?"

On I Barely Know Her, the 20-year-old star takes a magnetic first step.

The back and forth between quiet and loud numbers softens the focus of this music, and Bleeds doesn't have quite the same cumulative impact as Rat Saw God. That said, Bleeds is a ferocious, sometimes deeply moving collection of songs, confirming the strength of the music and revealing Hartzman's continued growth as a songwriter.

No Hard Feelings holds together perhaps even better than Blame My Ex, and there's a sense that the Beaches, who were in their early teens when they started out, are maturing into themselves and gaining a road-tested swagger. Yet they still know how to have fun.