The LP includes the singles "Malibu," "Caroline," and the propulsive, boot-stomping title cut.

A little refinement in the writing room might be appreciated in the long term, but it's clear that JENNIE has the vision to deliver something spectacular.

Nation Shall Speak Unto Nation stands with Edwyn's best work.

As a whole, only one of the 18 tracks here crosses the four-minute mark, so A Study of Losses' hour-long playing time seems to go by quickly, and its unceasing sweetness and longing linger after Condon is "Left to be/A sea of tranquility" ("Mare Tranquillitatis") to close a lovely theater project.

The entire album is yet another exciting evolution of Barker's innovative approach to techno.

In an unexpected way, this is also June's most overtly pop record; despite its genre-hopping nature, her melodies are insistent and memorable with strong hooks and relatively short runtimes. Although the tempos wane during the album's second half, its quality persists.

Too much of this record sounds like it could have been made by almost anyone and that's not good, and neither in the end is SABLE, fABLE.

The result exists in a middle ground between the band's artful indie rock and a contemporary classical suite. If you like Dirty Projectors, chances are you'll enjoy Song of the Earth, but this music lacks the immediacy and insistent pulse of the band's best work.

There's not much to latch onto here by way of hooks, but the atmosphere is thick and immaculate.

There are still some hilarious bon mots to be found throughout, but now there's a sense of maturity and creative evolution that's starting to creep over Justin Hawkins and the gang, adding depth to their catalog whether they intended it or not.

Like Hopper's grand film maudit The Last Movie, Life, Death and Dennis Hopper doesn't quite manage a satisfying ending, but what it delivers along the way is impassioned, literate, and daring, and it's more than worthy of repeated listening.

What makes Jellywish so often profound and not just sad or mindful is a combination of candid simplicity and hints of the supernatural.

These two songs ["The Rose of Laura Nyro" and "Never Too Late"] don't ruin the album, though, and no doubt fans of both artists will embrace this project as a great idea that, for the most part, works really well. A little more restraint and a little more Elton taking the lead vocals, and the "most part" could have been stricken from that sentence.

Her most fully realized album yet and a highlight in a career dotted with really good pop records.

Rathlin from a Distance/The Liquid Hour is comforting, inventive, and affecting -- sometimes alternately and sometimes all at once -- and feels strangely personal considering its multifaceted approach.

With The Crux, Keery doesn't just prove he more than owns his space in the pop world as Djo, he's found a home.

By giving equal time to headbanging and heartbreak, they've made an immensely satisfying album that's among their finest.

Black Country, New Road remain one of the most intriguing indie bands of the 2020s, and their flair for reinvention makes every release a thrill.

They tweak their sound in ways that seem to reflect emotional complexity while strengthening hooks and riffs, at least on the more memorable tunes.

The Velveteers are getting better at what they do, and A Million Knives captures that well, but they still sound best when they let their swaggering rock attitude do the talking.

Bateh's voice sounds a bit more worn and weary, not unlike latter-day Nick Cave, and it feels like there's an increase in electronic textures, but otherwise the band is sticking to their stock-in-trade, down to writing melodies which sound familiar to their body of work. That said, there is more of a conceptual storyline to this album, involving a character named Elena and the man who murdered her boyfriend.

Ultimately, Belonging feels like a full-circle moment for Marsalis, bringing both his group's history and his long-gestating passion for Jarrett's music into his quartet's vibrant present.

At least lyrically, Flür is trying to glance forward at the future on Times more than he did on his previous albums, which nostalgically referenced his past. Like his other albums, however, the songs themselves aren't always exciting, as well-produced as they are.

The whole thing might seem too darn cheerful -- maybe to a fault to the more hard-hearted -- but the duo rescue themselves from overload thanks to the muscular energy they impart to the rhythm section, the whipping bite of Aggs' guitar lines, and the overall forward drive the duo employ on every song.

The album, with its loungey, brushed shuffle grooves and sparkling guitar riffs, has its own intoxicating pull borne of the magical, decades-old chemistry between Wareham and Kramer. That's the Price of Loving Me might pull you into a golden vortex of their shared reverie, but it's a small price to pay.

There isn't much on is that My Morning Jacket couldn't have done on their own, but having a neutral observer on board certainly appears to have helped them up their game as a recording act, and it's one of the most purely satisfying albums they've delivered since they changed their game with Z.

With Glory, Hadreas discovers a rare balance between approachable songwriting and musical ambition that reinvigorates his music.

Akpro sounds like he's still finding himself, but his first album is an evocative mixture of nocturnal city scenes and youthful expression, and there's no telling where he'll go from here.