Sheeran is naturally a laid-back performer, the pair fit almost a little bit too neatly: where certain hooks and melodic refrains would've been pushed into the spotlight on previous Sheeran albums, they're lying in the background here. That tender touch when combined with a preponderance of ballads turns - (subtract) into a curiously recessive album: its emotions are raw, yet its execution is reserved.

By expressing humanity's unstoppable need to create and connect on What Will You Grow Now?, Modern Cosmology exemplify how beautiful and inspiring the results of that can be.

Lombardo has complete control over the entire musical picture. This control, combined with ambitious stylistic explorations, keeps an album that's primarily comprised of solo drum performances engaging and dynamic as it travels through its various pockets of intensity and calm.

Johnson's metered songwriting and warm, textural playing keep the project's earthy spirit intact as it continues evolving with every new set of tunes.

Cloth's previous releases may have been almost too subtle for their own good, but Secret Measure is an impressive, moving leap forward that fully reveals their music's power and potential.

Thankfully, there's a pleasing flow and emotional arc to the collection that draws you deeper in the further you go, in much the same way that Smashing Pumpkins' most beloved albums were such all-encompassing experiences.

Happily, Nelson sounds sprier here than he has on other records of contemporaneous vintage, which gives a light, lively quality that's quite welcome.

This album moves further afield musically and sonically than Mettavolution. The duo embrace complex Latin and Afro-Cuban rhythms and sophisticated harmonic ideas from jazz and classical music while integrating the additional resources with imagination, taste, and powerful articulation.

An Inbuilt Fault's subtlety will reward patient listeners, as repeat listens reveal more of its emotions and sonic detail.

The album overspills with retro nods -- waves of surf guitars, swinging rhythms, garage grime, and greasy organs -- all cobbled together from thrift stores and old records, yet the execution is fresh and clever.

The Chicago Sessions is a splendid example of of Rodney Crowell doing what he does best, with some help from a guy who knows how to get him to play to his strengths; it's Crowell as his smart and soulful best.

The hooks arrive one after another and the key change at the end pushes the song's catchiness over the top. The softer songs on the album see the Twigs return to some of the Baroque pop influences they built their earliest albums on, but clear away some of the extraneous sounds that could clutter that material.

Crystal Vision is a spirited set of tracks that gleefully switch between genres and evoke the producer's varied inspirations.

The "unplugged version" has become a common trope in rock music; more often than not, it appears as a listless bid to extend a parent album's commercial lifespan for another year or two. Que Dios Te Maldiga Mi Corazón, while quite possibly achieving that aim, feels like something more fully realized and artful, and carries more weight than a mere catalog curiosity.

More consistent than 2021's Somnia and 2019's All Aboard the Skylark, The Future Never Waits is, at once, more exciting and musically adventurous -- even with the (minor) missteps. This is a significant late-career highlight from Hawkwind.

Ultimately, Prism ends up faring much like the previous two Orb albums -- another eclectic mixed bag that has some amusing ideas but doesn't feel as focused as the group's best work.

Their commitment to the people they write about and their instincts about crafting music to match make this a stunningly powerful work that may well turn out to be a masterpiece.

Despite its arcane references and philosophical nature, Blómi remains approachable and is often quite moving. That Sundfør continues to make such consistently challenging music and be justly rewarded for it is its own small miracle, and with Blómi she reaches yet another career high.

Vocally, Ware has somehow found another gear, turning in her most commanding performances while having what sounds like a ball with her background singers.

Savoy embodies the abundant joy of its predecessor, Get On Board: The Songs of Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee, but the album offers added nuance, color, dynamics, and musical sophistication. It seemingly accomplishes the impossible by taking these (overly) familiar standards and breathing new life into them while simultaneously honoring their legacies as well as that of the historic Harlem ballroom.

There's no filler to be found on another accomplished and quietly haunted release from a group celebrating a decade together as a unit.

Imagine This Is a High Dimensional Space of All Possibilities is perhaps the furthest-out release in a discography full of inventive, inspired music, and it's some of Holden's most exciting and impressive work.

Nothing here sounds precisely new -- this is the aesthetic that gelled around the time of High Violet, yet the skill in the craft is married to a brightness in outlook that lets First Two Pages of Frankenstein operate on two parallel paths: it can serve as moody atmosphere or reward close listening.

Enigmatic Society is neither as powerful nor as weighty as the debut, and certainly doesn't seem intended to match it in those regards. It's altogether a calmer, more romantic work.

While his music generally fits under the category of ambient, it's never been the type of safe, soothing ambient solely meant to function as background music. ... No Highs especially focuses on dealing with depression, anxiety, and isolation, and its pieces often feel nervous and unbalanced.

She continues to say her piece on alt-rockers like "You Can Be Mean," "Wasting Your Time," and the shrieking "Always," but takes a decidedly philosophical, even accepting turn on the more reflective "Losing" ("There is nothing I can do when the winds of change blow through") and a wistful title track that speaks of forgiveness. Along the way, De Souza delivers some surprises.

It readily embraces, borrows from, and intersects with other musics too. Often his cornucopia of other sounds has (deliberately) overshadowed jazz. That's not true here.

At times, the first two Amber Arcades albums felt like they were made by someone feeling her way toward something better; Barefoot on Diamond Road is where de Graaf arrives.