Angel Tears in Sunlight, her final album, continues in the same expansive, unconstrained mode as her earlier work but explores different tonal realms.

Flock is the work of a daring artist, a crafty writer and performer, and someone who is always worth following to see what kind of great things she might do in the future.

IAN SWEET's most consistent set of songs to date.

The moody stateliness of When You See Yourself showcases their knack for building melodrama. The downside to this gift is that the album can seem like an interconnected piece, not a collection of songs. Individual tunes don't float out of the ether so much as fade into another handsome moment that's distinguished by production flair as much as it is by melody or hooks.

What sets Start Walkin' 1965-1976 apart from earlier comps from Rhino and Raven is that it's not strictly a hits collection. ... Instead, Start Walkin' 1965-1976 focuses on the stranger numbers within Sinatra's catalog -- hazy, symphonic psych-pop written and produced by Hazlewood. ... They help make for a convincing portrait of Nancy Sinatra as an idiosyncratic artist happily working within the confines of L.A.'s lushest studios.

Even without the conceptual framework, Harlecore is a briskly entertaining look back -- and forward -- at some of EDM's fizziest, gaudiest sounds.

In its amorphous flow and stately pace, In Ferneaux is a little less immediate than some of Blanck Mass' previous music, but its fully realized, cathartic musical journey is just as powerful.

Artful, delicate, and mesmerizing throughout, the album's subtle, gradual suspense may find some straining not to miss a moment.

He openly draws from history but situates his original music expansively in the here and now; his many stylistic referents combine in new ways to offer a stubbornly holistic, emotionally resonant, and visionary approach.

Poised somewhere between elegance and ferocity, All Bets Are Off is an exciting debut from an artist who thrives on the unexpected.

It's a buoyant sound that brings to mind a vibrant mix of artists like Deee-Lite, Greyboy Allstars, and Stereolab. Vocally, Murphy has a stylishly flat resonance that evokes iconic singers like Astrud Gilberto and Nico. It's a perfect fit for the duo's vintage-inspired recordings that wouldn't sound out of place pumping from a car stereo at the beach in 1970s Rio de Janeiro.

Way Down in the Rust Bucket isn't one of the more revelatory items to emerge from Neil Young's archives since he began major excavation in the mid-2000s. However, for those who consider the joyous stomp of Neil Young & Crazy Horse rock & roll comfort food at its best, this is a feast to savor, a long and rollicking celebration of the pleasures of turning up the amps and inviting in the spirit.

Maxïmo Park remain unabashedly heartfelt, and by staying true to this on Nature Always Wins, they deliver some of their finest songs in a while.

The synthy, downbeat direction they chose may not be the most thrilling option, but the band make it work thanks to their musical vision, the wonderful voices of Merve Dasdemir and Erdinç Ecevit, and the fact that nobody else around is making music quite like this.

It's not just a follow-up to their first mildly disappointing venture, it's a bracing reminder of just how thrilling King Gizzard can be at their peak.

Listening to Dylan lead these groups through a loose rendition of Harry Belafonte's "Jamaica Farewell," an extended, almost funky jam on "Long Black Veil," a friendly boogie through "Matchbox," and competing versions of Jimmy C. Newman's Cajun country stomp "Alligator Man" is a hoot, plus there's something almost touching in hearing Bob tentatively sing Paul McCartney's "Yesterday" on the same session where Harrison jammed. Nothing major, then, but the modest pleasures of 1970 are certainly worthwhile.

This is not a straight-up electronic record, nor does it resemble the polyrhythmic Afro-pop confections the Atlas Mountains have become known for. Instead, Marry has crafted a more personal and cohesive pop album with an engagingly homespun feel that is quite refreshing to listen to.

Willie sounds younger here than he has in years. He seems to be singing with a smile, as buoyed by his band as he is by these standards, a quality that gives That's Life an endearing kick.

Their music is evolving in sync with their technology, and AAI presents a bold challenge to conventional notions of creativity, authenticity, learning, and emotion.

By revisiting their past, Cloud Nothings find something new in it, as well as something timeless, and The Shadow I Remember is a full-throated, full-hearted triumph.

All the songs carry the weight of themes already present in the improvisations, however, making for an even more poignant second album by a project that continues to stand out from the melancholy indie crowd.

The melodies go exactly where you want them to, as do the emotional beats, resulting in a lovely travelogue that avoids steering down any seasonal roads, and in doing so quickly fades from memory.

Even with the quick-shifting styles, the emotional charge of the songs and Mulherin's distinctive songwriting sensibilities expand nothing,nowhere's range and keep the album from devolving into a scattered mess.

Since it's inextricably linked to the eponymous movie -- which generated plenty of controversy and public outcry for its portrayal of a non-verbal autistic woman by Sia's longtime public stand-in, neurotypical dancer Maddie Ziegler -- MUSIC might suffer from that burden of connection, which is a pity because it's actually quite good.

The music easily stands out on its own, even without the choreography and high-res video projections.

With nothing to prove and never having seemed too concerned about impressing anyone, the Melvins continue to take their wild-eyed chaos anywhere they choose -- Working with God goes to some places that are strange and unforeseen even for them.

Despite the bigger sound on average, however, Baker's brutal lyrical authenticity remains the main attraction.

Detroit Stories is stuck in a confusing limbo somewhere between tribute to Detroit and another album of the kind of campy, theatrical, radio-geared hard rock Cooper has been turning in since Hey Stoopid. Never quite committing to either concept, Detroit Stories ends up feeling like a handful of solid covers of classic Detroit tunes with some Alice Cooper extras thrown in at random.