Weller sounds looser and lighter on 66 than he did in the recent past, a shift that adds warmth and playfulness to his wisdom.

The lyrics of Dadadi's carnival-ready "Jigi Jigi" acknowledge the sounds of several disparate lands, and Nana Budjei's "Asobrachie" has a strong digital reggae rhythm. Best of all is "Barima Nsu" by Kwasi Afari Minta, an equally hypnotic and haunting ten-minute whirlwind that instantly feels like a lost classic.

To All Trains is almost certainly the final Shellac album, but it isn't a maudlin curtain call. It's a document of a happily uncompromising band living out their vision and loving their art, and on that level, it's as good a place as any to appreciate their (and his) singular brilliance. And it rocks.

The second (and/or third) classic, timeless, and timely Childish Gambino record in a row.

Lives Outgrown reveals Gibbons' music is only getting richer as the years pass.

The album may have been written during a dark night of the soul but it was recorded with precision and concentration, ultimately obscuring the pain at the point of origin. It's an approach that hardly does a disservice to either Shultz or Cage the Elephant: it gives Neon Pill an alluring, subdued pulse that soothes instead of stirs.

Each of Dehd's album's has been smarter, stranger, and more deceptively complex than the last, and the delightful and adventurous Poetry continues this upward trend.

An indispensable addition not only to the Analog Africa catalog but to the burgeoning cultural conversation around the significance, import, and variety of techniques, innovations, aesthetics, and attitudes in African music-making from the era.

Something about I Am Jordan feels a bit moderated, because even though it's a fun, celebratory record, it doesn't always hit the ecstatic highs that it's shooting for. Still, even if it isn't chock-full of wall-to-wall bangers, it's certainly an inspired effort that charts Jordan's growth as an artist and as a person.

Bullion's additions to this specific library of sounds are fresh and individualized, making Affection a soft world of its own, and one that merits frequent return visits and continued exploration.

A greater amount of collaboration notwithstanding, Ten Fold couldn't feel more personal, from the in-the-moment experiential songwriting to sampled and recorded appearances from her father, Juice Crew associate Grand Daddy I.U.

Pokey LaFarge manages to show off some depth and have a lot of fun at the same time on Rhumba Country, and listeners should have a ball right along with him.

It's tempting to want these songs to have the space to breathe. Nevertheless, McMahon always takes his music wherever it needs to go, and Death Jokes is the bracing sound of Amen Dunes actively engaging with the world and its problems.

In "Mustangs," which asks, "Are you a mustang or a kitty?" Your desire to answer that question may or may not depend on how deeply you spark to the album. Yet, the lyric is playful, Pop Art-provocative, and speaks to the joy, sweat, and poetic inspiration coursing through all of Can We Please Have Fun.

Being able to hear any previously unreleased Broadcast music is a thrill, but discovering the raw brilliance of the music on Spell Blanket is a true privilege.

An easygoing grower that digs deeper with each successive listen, Radical Optimism doesn't need to be Future Nostalgia 2.0; it's the sound of an artist enjoying life and exploring new directions as she continues to hone her craft.

Though much tighter and more adventurous musically, the unified approach on Pull the Rope recalls the ambitious scope of Ibibio's eponymous debut while their songwriting expresses pain, hope, joy, desire, and struggle with sophistication and verve.

The resulting album Look to the East, Look to the West is both a fitting tribute to what the band once was and a powerful new beginning.

There's no fat, no excess, so the craft that services the emotion is difficult to deny.

He doesn't merely juxtapose instruments and sounds, he painstakingly combines them, bringing joy, intensity, political, social, and spiritual poignancy in a vision at once focused, restless, and playful.

Despite its lyrical intensity, there is an abundance of passion and joy in Mdou Moctar's music that can't help but spill over with communal energy. This is a band and artist working at their peak, and Funeral for Justice is a career highlight.

Reasonable Woman gets Sia back on track, joining Fear and Acting as one of the most compelling and listenable efforts in her post-breakthrough catalog -- a huge relief for anyone who thought she had lost her touch.

Setting its heavy heart aside, the album still affects with an emotional roller coaster of musical material, recommended together for a good dance-cry.

Her songs are still wounded and far away, but the expanded instrumentation gives them a prismatic glow and makes for one of the most fascinating and repeatable sets from an artist who was already in a class by herself.

A Dream Is All We Know mixes up its subjects of study but chooses obsessively detailed replication over the hints of originality and vulnerable emotions that start emerging when the Lemon Twigs let their guard down.

With its loping, relaxed grooves and patina of sweetened strings, $10 Cowboy could be mistaken for a product of FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals, not an album originating from a small studio in Austin, Texas.

Cole's bars concentrate primarily on how far ahead of everyone else in the game he is and how his skills are unapproachable.

It's that sound of love, the fantasy vs. the reality of a relationship, that fascinates McAlpine and makes Older such a lovely and bittersweet experience.