Butterfly 3000 is the work of a band with a million ideas and the skills to make them all work like a dream. In this case, a shiny, happy dream that leaves the sleeper feeling refreshed and at peace upon awakening.

No Gods No Masters is a highlight in their discography and one of their best works to date, a potent and outspoken dose of genre-blending artistry that confidently returns Garbage to their position as a band perpetually ahead of the curve.

While the powerfully cathartic Big Mess does feel overlong, it may serve as a rare case where that's masterfully appropriate.

Offering a newly recorded version of Epic by a bunch of different artists turns out to not only be a clever idea, but it also shows how versatile and strong Van Etten's writing is.

She optimizes her limited range, but she and Zaks choose to keep the productions, all pleasant and finely rendered, similarly circumscribed in style and tempo.

Although Kommunity Service is short, it still shows versatility by approaching various styles track to track.

Their studio albums solidified Can's reputation as one of the most important and groundbreaking bands of their time, but Stuttgart 1975 exemplifies how that creative spirit translated to the stage, highlighting yet another side of Can's limitless ability.

The Problem of Leisure: A Celebration of Andy Gill and Gang of Four seems designed less as a walk down memory lane for aging leftist post-punks than a tool to make current listeners aware of Go4's ideals and legacy, and though (like most tribute albums) its broad palette makes it somewhat inconsistent, the thinking is fresh, bold, and impassioned enough that it should open the ears of both fans and novices should it cross their paths.

A beautifully nuanced work, Clara is both revealing and mysterious -- and Loscil fans wouldn't expect anything less.

As difficult and cathartic as the subject matter is, it's clear that she has come out on the other end and is not only thriving as an artist, but has found peace as a human. Having such a rich and compelling story to tell on a debut album is rare, and Russell delivers her tale with the utmost grace and finesse.

What makes Hardware cook are the very elements that always work for Gibbons: deceptively sharp songwriting that supports full-throttle rockers and soulful, slow(er) grooves. It's a formula that's yielded great results for Gibbons throughout the years, and they do once again here.

The appealing thing about Soberish is how it holds two thoughts (and sounds) simultaneously, a record that revives the spirit of Phair's earliest albums while casually leaning into her middle age.

Rostam's music didn't need much altering, but on Changephobia, it's more artful and heartfelt than ever.

This questioning, comforting, quietly stunning album reveals the good things that can come out of pain and grief.

A solid collection, but the shadow cast over the project by DMX's death highlights some of the inconsistencies and adds a heaviness and sense of unfinishedness that's palpable throughout.

Reflection doesn't quite have the shock of the new that For You and I did, but its best moments are still powerful, and it would be impossible to mistake the album for anyone else's perspective.

Barlow is still in touch with what was best about his old work while maturing in the ways that truly matter.

Wide-ranging without seeming scattered, PostHuman is an effortlessly accomplished work.

As ever, the band's music finds common ground in varying styles and coheres into a singular whole, coming together with a purpose to uplift and celebrate.

All the shifting sounds and emotions lend Blood an uneasy undercurrent that counters the immediacy of her melodies, but this tension isn't merely provocative, it's nourishing. Few pop records have captured the agitation of the early 2020s as well as this homespun project, which feels a bit like a beacon in the darkness.

It's a solid and rewarding set of songs that sounds a bit different than his usual work but finds him working with some excellent and sympatico musicians who understand his craft and give him what he needs and more.

Her combination of sweet melodies and bitter moods, her conversational flow, and her self-awareness are all skills many songwriters twice her age would love to call their own, and they make Sour a well-rounded emotional journey and strong debut album.

Agreeable yet melancholic and peppered with moments of cinematic Lynch-ian weirdness, it's the purest and most satisfying distillation of Lord Huron's pastoral folk-pop to date, and the perfect soundtrack for a road trip to nowhere.

Minus the two guest appearances, this is a one-woman show, from composition and instrumentation to mixing and mastering. The low end on this sucker is immense.

As a whole, The Width of a Circle doesn't quite add up to much more than an odds-and-sods collection, but then again, that's its appeal. It allows listeners to live within Bowie's 1970, a strange, weird, and absorbing year when he was figuring out his strengths and weaknesses.

Reprise is a bold late-career gem that legitimizes Moby's brand of electronic music by extracting the existing emotions that always dwelled beneath the digital soundscapes, revealing a heart that was always there but is now on full glorious display.

It's nothing unexpected but it's all effective, from the sturdy song constructions to performances that know when to lean into the muscle and when to let things swing.

Cavalcade is intentionally oversaturated and designed to knock listeners off balance, and at its best, the album's overpowering rush of sounds and ideas communicates the excitement and a sense of unlimited possibilities.