Captaining the expected band of L.A. studio stalwarts with easy grace, it's an album full of strong performances, few missteps, and the weary charisma that has been one of the singer's hallmarks.

Song for song, Hologram is a highly concentrated dose of all of A Place to Bury Strangers' strengths and a welcome return.

Hotel Surrender is a testament to Murphy's skills as an artist and his attitude as a person.

His craft is far too strong to regard these as throwaways, and the intimacy of the home-recorded production and performances is a fine match for the material. Jump for Joy never suggests Louris intends this to be a grand statement or his break with the Jayhawks, but it serves him well, and hopefully he won't wait 12 years before he tries this again.

Longtime fans need not fear that Shomo has gone too mainstream, as evidenced by ragers like "Dominate," "Phantom Pain," and "Hell of It," which pack enough of a punch to keep the mosh pits bruised and bloody. Combining those catchy flourishes with the band's trademark heaviness creates a great balance, and Below winds up being one of Beartooth's most enjoyable and immediate releases to date.

It continues his measured progression as a stylist of mellow pop songs with soul that articulate pensive self-awareness and a level of empathy best summarized in "Spinner": "I just wanna spin the truth about the ones I care about/All in the name of sufferin', but I'll see this through."

Solid Gold U-Roy is a fittingly triumphant final act from an artist who dedicated his life to the advancement of art. It's at once traditional and futuristic, returning to some of U-Roy's past victories and somehow rendering them even brighter and more invigorating.

While melodies are largely stagnant on Sling, and lyrics swing between grievance and self-realization (occasional stand-out turns of phrase include the opening lyrics, "I'm stepping inside a universe designed against my own beauties"), the album's ruminative internal atmospheres are its defining -- and likely haunting -- strength.

Though the set feels somewhat sleepy upon first listen, repeat visits reward listeners with Staples' depth and wit, cementing Vince Staples as a simple yet focused statement from one of the West Coast's most relevant voices.

Forest of Your Problems is unlikely to win over anyone not already sold on their particularly odd formula, but there is something admirable about the continuation of their off-kilter approach, making this record a victory lap for their existing fan base and a promise that the rhythms won't stop anytime soon.

While Ty Dolla $ign's street gospel support on the title song is a fine match, H.E.R. more often is too accommodating, most so on the Lil Baby meeting "Find a Way," where she drops de rigueur references to her bag, haters, and one of rap's most popular luxury cars. On a more discreet level, however, "Bloody Waters" -- a heady Kaytranada production tricked out with a delectable Thundercat bassline -- is a brilliant sequel of sorts to her Academy Award-winning "Fight for You."

At the Gates have been at the fore of the Scandinavian death metal scene since the early '90s -- Terminal Spirit Disease and Slaughter of the Soul are seminal works -- and the dark and inventive Nightmare of Being should ensure that they remain there.

It's a wounded if proud and defiant response that draws from vintage high-tech R&B and art pop -- the 1982-1987 era with greatest frequency -- with all sharp edges melted off.

Unlike their first two albums, which landed high on the breeziness scale, Mirror II is a tougher listen. It's clear that the band want to grow and expand their musical horizons but less clear that they are able to do that successfully. That being said, ultimately there is enough craft to the songwriting, energetic verve in the performances, and painful truth in the lyrics that the album is worth listening to, and the band is worth sticking with if only to see where they go from here.

While Half Waif's cinematic, keyboard-based atmospheres have generally expanded with each album to this point, they reach another level of vibrancy and drama on their fifth album, Mythopoetics. Partly written by project leader Nandi Rose during the COVID-19 outbreak -- its predecessor, The Caretaker, was released in March 2020 as much of the U.S. was locking down -- it adopts a less familial, more philosophical outlook while remaining distinctly personal.

Treasure of Love isn't a pathbreaking masterpiece for the Flatlanders, but that's not the sort of album they were likely to make at this point in their lives. Instead, it's an affirmation of their friendship and their love of music, and if you've ever cared about any or all of the group members, this will make you very happy.

Aside from the delicate "Anti-Romantic," the rest of the effort keeps the energy high with its hybrid blend of electronic, hip-hop, and anthemic rock flourish, resulting in a wholly engaging listen that ends all too soon.

At just under half an hour, the album's running time is relatively brief, but it feels like it encompasses Cheek's entire life so far, and it's a uniquely powerful expression of her uncompromising vision.

On Quietly Blowing It, M.C. Taylor reminds us he knows how we feel, and that he feels the same way; perhaps that helps only so much, but there's a lot to be said for a friendly voice during a hard time, and that's just what this album delivers.

Without drawing undo attention to himself, Darnielle has been moving from strength to strength as one of indie rock's most vital and original talents, and Dark in Here demonstrates he's working at the top of his game and it's a joy to hear.

By pushing each other out of their comfort zones, Beth and Gillespie make Utopian Ashes an unabashedly theatrical -- and consistently entertaining -- look at falling out of love.

No surprises, no alterations, no problem. It's reassuringly great music made by a group that know exactly what they are doing and aren't afraid to keep doing it and doing it well.

Tucker and Brownstein are in the process of figuring out what Sleater-Kinney can do as middle-aged indie survivors, trading their signature catharsis for reflection and mild experimentation. They haven't landed on a solution, but listening to the duo lost within their process is rewarding, feeling emotionally direct even when the angles are somewhat obtuse.

Levine and company aren't the focus here, they're the connective tissue on a softly amorphous album that sounds entirely like latter-day Maroon 5 without ever quite seeming to belong to them.

The comforts A Few Stars Apart offer may not be original, but part of their power lies in their familiarity: it's the sound of tradition moving forward through the bad times and into the good ones.

For an album that thinks big, Escapades avoids being a sprawling mess, as the songs are incredibly focused and immediate, never trying to stuff too many ideas in, and never overstaying their welcome. It's far more mature than the harsh electro-house of Waters of Nazareth-era Justice, but it feels like a return to that level of creative inspiration.

Tyler's music has always been a patchwork of ever-increasing palettes, and CMIYGL is his most complex to date. Recurring tricks are masterfully melded into new templates.