RTJ4 distills the anger and frustration of the people through Run the Jewels' hard-hitting, no-nonsense revolution anthems. Trim with no filler, this fourth set from the outspoken duo provides relevant history lessons that are more useful than a classroom textbook.

There's an organic, painted desert beauty to the album, and its drifting moods have an unhurried feel that may be due to its lengthy creation (the trio carved out time to record it over the course of nearly five years).

Maybe she's lost her appetite to be a weird provocateur, but she has learned how to sharpen and stylize her attack, and that focus makes Chromatica one of her most consistent and satisfying albums.

Self-Surgery's greatest flaw is that there are too many ideas with too little time to work them out, and this may have worked better with four somewhat longer tracks instead of eight short ones. Regardless, this is a bold, brave effort from two artists willing to push the boundaries of their music, and Mrs. Piss is a side project that has more than earned its reason to exist.

There's a charming looseness to the album; while never abrasive, the samples sometimes clash with each other a bit, and it all has the feeling of a cut-and-paste collage, sounding far less refined than Eluvium or Explosions' dramatic, labored-over epics. ... The album is a poignant, playful collection of future memories.

Thompson was a capable performer from the start, and Heartbreaker Please demonstrates he's improved with the passage of time, while his songwriting has also gained a depth that comes from a lived life.

No matter the mood or mode, Haliechuk and Falco make nary a misstep and show they are equally adept at inspiring weird dance moves, conjuring up post-punk ghosts, or delivering indie rock thrills. At their best -- which is most of the time -- they leap past being a sum of their influences to make music that sounds supremely fresh, and if the shifts between sounds can be a little jarring on the first couple of listens, at least Harmony Avenue is never boring.

Good Intentions is redeemed slightly by its incrementally improved production choices and impressive list of guest artists. The strongest songs on the lengthy album are those when NAV's juvenile lyrics and generic performances are enlivened by more talented artists dropping in to collaborate.

Lyrical themes orbit around topics he often returns to: crime, struggle, and street vengeance. With Beyond Bulletproof, however, the delivery is shades more relaxed and even introspective, allowing for a clearer view of Mozzy's pain as well as his personality.

At just 28 minutes, Alphabetland fires on all cylinders throughout and bows out before it can wear out its welcome; it's a nearly miraculous example of a band returning to the studio after a long layoff and delivering at full strength.

Downcast and spectral even by the standards of Lanegan's less-than-sunny body of work, Straight Songs of Sorrow is psychodrama as much as it is entertainment. That also makes it one of the most nakedly compelling albums Lanegan has given us, and anyone who has been interested in his music or his life will find it darkly mesmerizing.

Although there are some clumsy similes and metaphors, and a surplus of astrological references, its lyricism is undeniable, abundant in pithy rebukes and come-ons. And while the predominantly crawling tempos can have a tranquilizing effect, there's nuance to nearly every cut with high-level songwriting to match.

With so many tracks, there's something for every mood and listener, a lengthy collection of familiar sounds punctuated with just enough choice cuts to keep it interesting.

The album reinforces the unstoppable brilliance of Merritt's writing. At any length, instrumentation or investigating whatever ridiculous subject matter, he somehow manages to be effortlessly charming, funny, odd and above all catchy.

Chunky Shrapnel is a testament to the band's powers as a live act and is sure to make their fans happy.

While his observations on anxiety are astute, much of the record is given over to the kind of harmless romantic synth pop that does little to distinguish itself among the deluge of similarly smooth pillow talk scattered across the genre. Not quite as left-field as it wants to be, Salvat's follow-up still offers a reasonable amount of pop appeal.

With Ghosts of West Virginia, he's created some of the most eloquent music he's written in two decades.

As wide-ranging as Banana Skin Shoes is, it never feels like Gough is dabbling. The album's sounds are as carefully considered as the motifs of tears, apples and snowy spring days that recur in its lyrics, and the flourishes of brass that pop up throughout feel like triumphant fanfares.

Consummation is a bold step forward and confirmation that Katie von Schleicher has a great deal to offer and should be creating satisfying music for a long time to come.

The tracks that follow are, simply put, eclectic. At times, almost frustratingly so.

It's an album anchored in unsettled rumination, with compellingly grainy surfaces that reveal either the expertise of its accomplished collaborators or a sophistication beyond Owen's years -- likely both.

While this record sounds bleak on the surface, there's a strange sense of comfort in these songs; they acknowledge the sad state of the world even while attempting to transcend its darkness and uncertainty.

Through it all, Vager and her band cut a jagged line through punk fervor, pop charm, and rock backbone, turning in an album that is equal parts ferocious, funny, and moving.

Strange to Explain sounds like the result of carefully considered choices in songwriting and production. Without losing the unfiltered emotion that makes them so compelling, Woods reach a new maturity with these songs. Fifteen years into a tirelessly curious evolution, the band sound more comfortable and surefooted here than ever before.

The essential generosity of Burgess' spirit helps keep I Love the New Sky buoyant during the rare moment it drifts a bit too far into cheerful trippiness. And those moments are so rare, they're hardly noticed.

While the hypnotic cover of Talk Talk's "Life's What You Make It" may be the only moment here that doesn't distinguish itself enough from the original. Much more frequently, however, Cover Two brings out the best in Joan as Police Woman's music as she revisits some of her favorite songs.

On this stunning debut, Sawayama captures Dua Lipa's future nostalgia and Poppy's metal-meets-pop savvy, rightfully making it her own with more depth, bigger thrills, and a limitless palette.

Shifting from pounding rock to experimental jazz at a feather’s touch, the album’s sonics provide the theatrical soundscape to Sumney’s words, rising and falling in line with his crystalline tones.