On Aviary, Holter answers the chaos of 21st century life by following her bliss; the results are a constellation of moments that celebrate the fullness of her music and, as always, make for fascinating listening.

The set provides both reliably dreamy background grooves and, for the more attentive listener, frequent moments of discovery, making it seem more cutting edge than throwback despite its main inspirations.

A thoughtfully curated soundtrack, Bohemian Rhapsody offers a compelling narrative of Queen's storied arc into rock legend.

Overall, IC-01 Hanoi is interesting and shows that the band does have impressive range, but it's not quite an essential piece of the UMO puzzle.

Live from the Ryman doesn't change what you already know about Jason Isbell as a writer or a performer, but as a document of his many strengths, it's powerful and thoroughly entertaining, and is one more reminder that he's as smart and gifted as any songwriter at work today--and he can work the crowd like nobody's business.

At its best, which it often is, Here If You Listen plays like a hybrid of Steely Dan, Joni Mitchell and CSN, a combination that is soothing and surprising in equal measure. It's an album that confirms that Crosby is at an unexpected and satisfying latter-day creative peak.

Her most varied and generous LP yet.

Occasionally, MassEducation borders on being too stark for its own good, but the songs hold their power in this unvarnished setting.

Forever Neverland contains enough catchy moments to warrant a listen, but mostly remains fodder for de rigueur 2010s alt-pop playlists.

Five albums in, Cloud Nothings version of maturing is to go harder and louder than ever--and they sound all the better for it.

Few bands have the courage to trust fully in it and/or in their ability to not only maintain but give heart and texture to it, but Cave do, and the result is riveting. Allways is their warmest-sounding record to date, and its Delphic charms are a pleasure to get lost in.

A Wonderful Beast feels more like a partially successful experiment than a fully realized meeting of the minds, but Johnson, Carney, and Branch complement one another better than one might expect, and this shows Johnson is still game to try new things and push the boundaries of his musical comfort zone.

T.I. is joined by a long list of high-profile guests, including Sam Hook on the gospel-kissed "Seasons"; Young Thug and Swizz Beatz on the moving "The Weekend"; and Anderson .Paak on the booming R&B-trap hybrid "At Least I Know." Triumphant album highlight "More & More" with Jeezy harkens back to T.I.'s 2000s sound, a booming, bass-heavy anthem that recalls his early hit "What You Know" and P$C's "I'm a King."

Blasting through 11 songs in less than half-an-hour, Pre Strike Sweep never settles into one mode or frame of reference for long. Instead, the album drags and scrapes itself into being for its entire duration, angry and bleeding and looking for new angles with every new riff, crash, and tortured scream.

An inventive way of uniting her body of work, Warzone furthers her legacy as a promoter of peace and understanding.

On ["Love Means Taking Action"] and throughout The Anteroom, Krell sounds revitalized; by revisiting his noise-drenched past with the experience he's gained since then, he delivers an album that's just as impressionistic as his early work, and possibly even more adventurous.

There's nothing rebellious about the music and not much natural, either--but its immaculate anodyne tones are soothing, and that's superficially pleasing, even if it doesn't remotely seem attached to the Richard Ashcroft of lore.

Cherry's songs here are deeply meditative, often implying or directly expressing sorrow regarding planetary afflictions rooted in fear.

Where it differs from the debut is in lyrics that are heartfelt but deliberately less personal than Me.

Its sonic audacity is so bracing, it's relatively easy to forgive the lyrical stumbles, which crystallize on the dirty puns of "It Girl," but that's nearly beside the point because, unlike Love Stuff, Shake the Spirit never seems indebted to Elle King's idols. Instead, it embodies her own bold, bawdy heart.

Jake may be the weak link, but he merely reveals how the whole band seem to have learned their moves from watching late-night concerts on Palladium while buying pre-worn vintage-styled T's at Urban Outfitters. For the band and audience alike, Greta Van Fleet is nothing more than cosplay of the highest order.

Wasteland is another example of Uncle Acid's genius, and more evidence that they are the best metal band (apart from Black Sabbath) of the early '70s.

It's quaint yet enjoyable but doesn't deliver the same power or joie de vivre of its far more boisterous predecessor.

Quavo Huncho is enjoyable but unmemorable. It's not quite a Migos album, but it comes close enough to tide fans over until album number four.

Wwhile it's hard to argue that Evolution lives up to its moniker, the familiarity of the architecture is lent considerable gravitas by the overall execution, which as per usual, leaves nothing but perspiration in its wake.

Lyrics like the closer's "No more listening today" and "No one left here today" may apply to some returning fans, but the invigorated approach to production, arrangements, and, in many cases, performances makes for a still highly listenable set that's at least as likely to excite as to challenge.

Flourishes, along with Kelly's sharply honed wit, keep the otherwise moody and slow Dying Star from seeming somnolent, and they're enough to help steer attention away from the album's appealing nocturnal sheen and to the songcraft, which is sturdy and enduring.