On an artistic level, at least, she is flourishing.

While Infinite doesn't eclipse any of Mobb Deep's classic recordings, it's a treat for fans and does not dilute the legacy.

With Tremor, Avery establishes a singular form of distortion-doused electronic rock which dwells in a nocturnal landscape, letting deep-seated emotions rise to the surface.

The deliberately pursued contemplative aesthetic might be too gentle or slow for some, but this saxophonist and his sidemen deliver a jazz masterclass for trios.

In addition to the standouts "Fast" and "Here All Night," the horny "Kiss" is a euphoric house escape that really solidifies this set as one of Lovato's best works.

For anyone expecting the cheeky fun of her 2000s gems, there's no mirth to be found here. It's purely righteous anger, biting sarcasm, and cutting barbs, all draped in pain and disappointment. The bloodletting is cathartic and unexpected, making this a surprising maturation that makes Allen as relatable as she's ever been.

This is less about hooks and more about mood. The mood is heavy and only begins to lift in the George Clinton-assisted finale. Miguel's voice remains a marvel, commanding enough to enliven substandard material.

Unbelievably, Shudall and Circa Waves have managed to expand and deepen what already felt like a complete emotional arc.

While each of these EPs stand on their own in quality, they create a rhythm orgy that is wildly musical and presented as a near symbiotic whole when combined.

Most longtime fans will be astonished by von Hausswolff's masterful developmental achievement, as well as the emotional and spiritual power, poetics, and musicality of Iconoclasts. For newcomers, this album presents a near perfect, accessible entry into her recordings.

The result is an album full of songs like "For the Girls" and "Many A Day A Heartache" that come across like best case scenarios for what one have hoped that the band might sound like someday, blending together elements of all their eras to end up with a powerful rock & roll sound, while the ballads, especially the album ending "Everything Now", have an emotional depth that feels earned.

Again's relatively more streamlined indie rock and reflective sensibility may set it apart from their previous work more than any studio varnish, although it all works together to take a more consistent step forward on their proper label debut.

Like any of rousay's other releases, a little death is a homemade portrait, incorporating sounds from her life and her friends into earnest, personal work.

Not too many other bands working this side of the guitar rock street are able to bundle together hooks and heart, noise, and melody quite as well as White Reaper do on Only Slightly Empty.

Wasner's music has always felt reflective, but these songs take introspection to a new level and showcase her voice both as a writer and singer. Good art doesn't have to come from darkness, but songs like "Not Yet Free" and "River in My Arms" are proof that riches await on the other side of a crucible.

All of Touch reflects the curiosity that has driven Tortoise since the beginning -- and still drives them all these years later.

Describe contains some of Jadagu's most personal songwriting, while the arrangements show that she's constantly looking to push her sound forward.

With its comparatively restrained approach only reasserting Carlile's gifts as a confident, compassionate, and sympathetic communicator, Returning to Myself offers an equally compelling edition of the musician that may appeal to new, less country-inclined fans.

With the exception of a few clunkers, this disjointed flow becomes a defining characteristic of Love Chant. There’s a sense throughout that Dando is now comfortable enough with himself to take all the time he needs to explore weird ideas and decide where they start and end. That embrace of his own artistic whims is admirable, as is his choice to tread new ground rather than try to re-create his most successful work from the past.

The whole record is a wonderfully triumphant moment for Lawrence, and if it gains him some new fans -- as it just might -- that's great because the world needs odd-duck pop stars, and he certainly fits that bill.

That Wasn't a Dream is an unexpected, welcome surprise. Its ambitious tonal, textural, and harmonic palettes are intricately tied in a series of sonically sophisticated compositions reflecting the endless possibilities for 21st century jazz in improvisation, aesthetic inclusion, and production.

It's like the two musicians are navigating their way through the wilderness without knowing where they're headed, yet once they finally get there, they backtrack and trace a logical path so that it seems like they knew what they were doing the entire time.

LOTTO is disorienting and messy, but there's undoubtedly something real and honest about it.

A song like "Maelstrom" lets loose with a thundering bass drum and more-distant syncopated snare. For the most part, though, tracks levitate above ground along webs of acoustic guitar, piano, layered vocals, and atmospheric shimmer to the point where it's sometimes difficult to distinguish one song from another.

Equally poised and unpredictable, Some Like It Hot's poetic, mischievous, raucous, and heartbroken songs come close to a definitive statement from a band in constant motion.

Virtually every element, whether played or programmed, is in service to Parks' sybaritic visions, and they all stimulate movement free from restraint.

His thoughtful pacing doles out thrilling moments worth waiting for, while the slower segments allow for the energy to build again.

These are all big-hearted songs dreamed up in small rooms, and painted in bold Broadway strokes.