In spite of minor missteps, Omoiyari manages to condense its political themes and historical scope into an impactful experience.

Find the Sun is an uncompromising record from an artist intent on mining further depths, one that finds the beauty in unease — and a sense of purpose in the darkness.

It all drifts along at an unhurried pace, but if you've been waiting a decade for more of Haines' most intimate music, you'll be rewarded for taking the time to let Choir of the Mind sink in.

Surprisingly, Jidenna makes it work, commanding the listener's attention from start to finish.

Fishing for Fishies is the freest the band have sounded in a while, and the record is all the better for it.

Polymer is their darkest record to date. It still sounds undeniably Plaid, but tracks like "Meds Fade" and "Recall," which sounds like barrage of error messages knocking on your front door, will have you reaching for the light switch. Now they can add ominous to their established repertoire of complex and simple.

In its own way, City Music is just as ambitious as the more obviously musically ambitious Singing Saw was; have this on hand for certain literary yet off-kilter late night city moods.

A Bath Full of Ecstasy provides hope within strife, encourages repeated listens as much for their danceability as the quality of the writing.

The sheer breadth of talent that Robert Chater and Tony Di Blasi have assembled is dizzying, their collaborators as imaginatively selected as their samples.

Near to the Wild Heart of Life isn't the record fans waited five years for. But backed into a corner, Japandroids have penned a truly great record filled with all the guitar hooks, shout-along choruses about nights spent drinking, sweating and longing to be somewhere else that we've come to expect.

While it's easy to go overboard making an album like this and lose a track by burying it in too many samples and obscure references, Projections keeps its focus, and balance, by never using more than necessary.

Despite its title, these Brits find themselves with their most diverse offering yet, a culmination of their career's work to this point.

True to its name, Sebadoh's latest proves that, even after all these years, the band are still capable of making music that is thoughtful, humble, and, at times, surprising.

By incorporating vintage influences with so much skill, Nau channels yesterday's greats without ever lazily copying them. Instead, he transports you to way back when, then makes it sound of the moment.

4:44 is a refreshing, full-circle moment for hip-hop lovers--and a true pleasure to hear.

It does little to dispel any of the mystery that surrounds the band, even while proving them worthy of the praise they've received across the pond.

[The] 14 tracks feel bloated--less so, though, if one treats Honeymoon as a concept album, a 66-minute Quaalude-and-wine dream musical that spans the history of Hollywood and 20th Century cinema.

While it isn't a huge departure from Soccer Mommy's early work, Allison is promptly hitting her stride and clearly gaining confidence and showing it with strands of snarkiness and angst mixed within her delicate, vulnerable songs.

Cut Worms' music might not be as immediate as Andy Shauf's, or as inventive as Whitney's, but for listeners who miss the time when songwriters wrote actual songs, this album should not be overlooked.

The album is an ode to all that Khruangbin have achieved and a look forward to everything that is to come.

At just an hour in length, Immunity savours every moment, pulling on your heartstrings, lifting you off your feet and inviting you right back for more.

Ben Frost again proves himself to be adept at juggling noise and melody, rhythm and drone, distortion and clarity on The Centre Cannot Hold, a record that sculpts comfort from chaos and tunnels through darkness back to light.

While many black metal albums attempt to approximate the sound that might issue from the depths of hell, Verdonkermaan actually comes close. Terrible and fascinating.

Though the tone of Pop Smoke's voice is already enough to set him apart from other artists coming out of New York, there's energy felt in his music that keeps you engaged. We'll have Meet the Woo 2 to remember that energy forever.

Say What? is hardly DOOM's definitive work, but it gives us one last snapshot of a solitary mind that spurted in wonderfully volatile ways.

The pair share an uncanny symbiosis, which is quite clearly demonstrated on Concrete Desert.

Reenergizing the band after a lackluster sophomore effort, the move [of switching guitars for synthesizers] has led to an atmospheric, assured and largely compelling record.

At 53 blurry, delirious minutes, it's a lot to take in. (Better suited for that might be the more melodious, less dense Dripping or this record's chronological and spiritual predecessor, A Hairshirt of Purpose.) But it's a strong step forward, and offers no more or less than exactly what Pile are all about.

You don't have to be a churchgoer to recognize the positive, life-affirming role music this powerful can play. Given the state of things in the American South (not to mention various hotspots around the world), music this soulful is clearly timeless.

What One Day achieves then, unshackled by this lingering desire for overarching grand narratives, is the purest distillation of that "lightning in a bottle" frenzy, capturing the collective's creative spark at its most urgent — that is: less bells, all whistles.

Sure, he did appear on a Tame Impala remix last year, but few could have expected such a vivid and exploratory psych album as Let's Start Here.

"Not Running" and the aforementioned "Little Death" have especially great arrangements, but it's a highlight throughout Future Me Hates Me, and anyone who loves British indie punks Martha for this reason should be laser-focused on this debut from the Beths. Future you will definitely not hate this album.

In tone and approach it suggests the populism of a lost Cat Stevens classic ("High Hopes," in particular) but with enough interesting detours.

Color certainly announces Katie Gately as a force to be reckoned with, a true auteur with a singular--and highly listenable--vision.

Throughout Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!?, Dixon continues to show off his acrobatic way with words and parades his affecting precision of imagery.

Blasts of powerful guitar and rhythm that sounds like two, sometimes three percussionists carry along their tradition of satisfying grunge here, but the songs feel more cathartic than celebratory, the crashing cymbals and flurry of toms reflecting the honest, raucous lyrics.

With Chaos for the Fly, Grian Chatten has proven that he's not only worth his salt for leading one of the biggest UK bands in the world right now, but that he has the erudition to create fantastic music without his Fontaine D.C. mates.

The brevity and strong melodicism of these songs is of course reminiscent of Field Music's work, yet You Tell Me feels like both an extension of the eldest Brewis brother's songwriting and an assertion of Hayes' voice.

They're still more than capable of cranking up the guitars and making the kind of caustic, spiky noise that's been their trademark for more than 30 years, especially live.

Once fast and abrasive, Wand are softer and more thoughtful on Laughing Matter; the fuzz and distortion are no longer a main feature, but rather tools used to add layers of texture and sound alongside rhythmic guitar and evocative keys.

Though Football Money is not without its moments of pessimism, at its core, it's a coming-of-age record about doing what you can with what you have--a bright-lights-big-city story scaled down to Canadian proportions.

Always honing and building upon their sound, Throes of Joy in the Jaws of Defeatism is an outstanding testament to Napalm Death's continued legend and evolution.

In the past, Femi has sounded just as vital and his playing just as powerful, but he's never done it in such radiant tones.

Frankie Cosmos continues to succeed at condensing the task of processing feelings down into short minute-ish long songs. The pace of the album is set at a brisk run, but it never gets sweaty, so you'd never notice how quick it is — or how hard it's working. Close It Quietly is composed and meticulous in flow, flawlessly delivering reserved passion.

The band still know how to write a good "whoa-oh," and their message has been sharpened by outside factors, making it seem more vital than ever. Anti-Flag haven't changed; the world has.

Night Palace is an atmospheric, ambitious album by one of modern music's most open songwriters. Its length will certainly be a detriment for some, but those who allow themselves to be absorbed by the bubbling, crashing sounds contained therein will be rewarded with another beautiful, endlessly re-listenable collection of songs and sounds from Mount Eerie.

The band only falters when they lean on stock symbols, as on the materialist-baiting "Pink White House." If those lyrics sound lazy, it's only because Nothing Feels Natural is so taut and particular otherwise.

Not Even Happiness is a triumph of subtlety, proof that music doesn't have to be forceful to be powerful.

The album evokes a powerful sense of longing: a yearning for the connection, understanding, and beauty found in fleeting moments. In the hiss and fuzz of splintered memories and reveries, Powers draws us into a past that lingers, soft and near, just within reach.

Expanding upon its predecessor, The Complete Budokan 1978 is an immersive treasure trove that brings us into the storied space for two nights with Bob Dylan. He was a bit restless, heartbroken and perhaps even a little angry, and that got him searching for new muses and new sounds.

Overall, hardcore R&B fans will appreciate age/sex/location most, but this is an album made for cuffing season and should probably be listened to by lovesick single people still figuring it out.

Calling Out is an excellent first dish by EZTV, a sweet thing that makes one excited to hear what they serve up next.

Bird's Eye is tinged with her signature futuristic nostalgia, but her sonic and personal growth is clear, creating a vibrant kaleidoscope of sound and feeling.

Bigger, bolder, and even more exploratory than his 2020 debut Your Hero Is Not Dead, An Inbuilt Fault.

Khalid delivers something to tide you over; Suncity is awash in that same energy that has kept him in the musical conversation.

Part Two is a serpentine tour of disco, psych-rock, folk and funk, with a touch of house and a generous glaze of unabashed love. It's Romare at his finest so far, and whets the appetite for whatever honeyed treasures Part Three might hold.

Thorn frames Record's songs within her experiences as a woman and mother, allowing for an immediacy to the music, which traces her first brush with guitar music through to a simple desire to enjoy dancing on a night out. ... Tracey Thorn possesses a lyrical and melodic intuition that shines.

An incredibly concise and cohesive project, Dark Times clocks in at an airtight 35 minutes across its 13 tracks.

The Chilean producer has released collaborative records, scored films and released a series of incredible 12-inches, Nymphs I through IV. And yet, for all of the sonic breadth of that material, none of it quite prepares listeners for Sirens.

What makes this nine-track/45-minute LP so fascinating is just how many ideas Houck injects into it, throwing layers of piano, wordless backing vocals and ambient effects into the mix.

Overall, the 12-track Resistance merges R&B, soul, electro and funk in a package that's compact and complete.

It's an admirably strange structure--one that doesn't make much aesthetic sense, but keeps things unpredictable for a whopping 83 minutes. ... A weird and wonderful farewell from the idiosyncratic project.

Le Kov feels more commanding than 2014's Y Dydd Olaf, where Gwenno revised an obscure Welsh sci-fi novel into a concept album of '80s-tinged ice pop (sung mostly in Welsh; only its closing track was in Cornish). Here, there's a fuller array of sounds at play, and its vision feels more confidently achieved.

When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? is a debut record that showcases a bold artistic vision and a willingness to move beyond the boundaries of pop conventions.

As per usual, every song Homme touches ends up being undeniably sexy, but it's unlikely you'll want to take it off and get it on, listening to it. Post Pop Depression isn't the sound of an acclaimed artist seamlessly slipping away, but a wild animal screaming with all his might into the night.

A charming and disarming album.

The instrumental cuts are warm and warped, hazy and slow-burning, all buzzing with bass and landing loudly in the realm of beat making.

Calvi remains in firm control on Hunter, but she lets loose more than enough moments of bliss to satisfy.

The Glorious Dead is an achingly self-aware throwback record, focusing more on the strength of each song than the album's overall structure.

As with all of his records, it's better to view Ryan Adams in the context of his career, rather than on its own, which makes this a very strong contender in a surprisingly dense field.

With plenty of captivating textures, there is lots to explore on the record, as there is in the world, but the deeper one goes, the more bountiful the rewards.

Stargate Music is a brilliant addition to the outpouring in the L.A. beat scene, a beautiful amalgamation of raw experimentation and sound fusion that raises this concept album well above others who have come before.

he only complaint (quibble really), is that a number of the pieces don't have endings. ... Otherwise, this is an enjoyable and important document. One of many for a pioneer we are all grateful to have discovered.

Much of Please Be Honest is filled with mid-tempo material, but unlike his recent work, Pollard seems obsessed with guitar textures and vocal effects here, making Please Be Honest an intriguing success.

All the elements that have made for their most enjoyable material are still here, and the band shows they are just as capable as they have always been on captivating listeners.

Kesha shines brightest on "Woman," an undeniably funky number whose soulful beat is driven by the Dap-Kings' legendary horns. Unedited takes of giddy laughter shared between Kesha and her co-writers in the vocal booth pepper the song, demonstrating an artist who refuses to be stripped of her joy.

Frankie Rose might not be the face of Beverly, but Careers is one of the best things she's done to date. But Drew Citron deserves most of the credit.

Repeated listening makes it hard not to see the album as some sort of quasi-confessional mini-masterpiece, and if not that, at least another example of his increasing strength as a songwriter.

What sets Dagdrøm apart from their other work is just how deep this rabbit hole goes and how menacing the sounds echoing up from its depths are.

The album perfectly captures the abrasive and raw sound that Sleater-Kinney have only strengthened throughout the years.

Yes, Erase Me also features more singing and less metalcore than has been standard in Underoath's career, but it straddles Sleepwave's experimentations, landing on the catchier side ("Rapture," "Wake Me"), more energetic side ("It Has to Start Somewhere," "Hold Your Breath") or somehow pushing both extremes ("In Motion," "Sink With You").

For a musician who has been leaning on the same style of ambient electronic for years, Colleen bravely reaches for something outside her ethereal comfort zone on Captain of None.

Much like 2017's Ti Amo, Alpha Zulu has a romantic warmth that transcends lyrics, which evade interpretation, often melting into the melody but occasionally snagging the ear with a beautiful turn of phrase.

Raph's lyrics, meanwhile, dig beneath melancholia and insecurity to unearth beauty in the small victories of self-discovery.

Suffice it to say, Zygadlo comfortably defies the sophomore album slump with this one.

Taut and built upon arpeggiated synths coupled with a prominent rhythm section, the album pokes fun at our over-stimulated reality, while commenting on the struggles we face to retain individuality and authenticity.

The nervous, blemished energy of Forth Wanderers is gripping with heaping amounts of charm, bitterness, sarcasm, and unease in the right proportions, making our insecurities stare back at us.

Here, unknowable sounds hover, skitter and undulate against a backdrop of refined, futuristic grooves.

Retox promised devastation with Ugly Animals and have delivered it again, sharper and surer, with YPLL.

A rarely relenting party with more substance than the last.

Moss uses delays and loops, multi-tracking, and other effects to greatly expand the sonic potential of these basic elements, resulting in a sound world that is laser sharp in its focus, but still expansive and dynamic.

Maya simply blows any of Frusciante's previous electronic efforts out of the water. He has somehow pulled an IDM-infused jungle record out of his backside that could easily rival any of Squarepusher's.

While musically, the tracks can sometimes bleed into each other, sounding perhaps too similar, this album is meant to be consumed in order as a whole. Birdie sets a solid foundation for Slaughter Beach, Dog's future.

If Brasstronaut's fans are willing to go along for the ride, Mean Sun will reward the patient.

The Off-Season — an earnest return to blood, sweat and ink — doesn't need much more to hit like swish.

Now with a larger band, rapid-fire lyrics don't serve the same spatial purpose they did when Graves was stomping out his own drum beat. There's a busy conversational quality to the songwriting that strict economical poetics couldn't achieve. There's not a lot of wordless space on Can't Wake Up.

Gordon has managed to create an album that pushes her legacy as an experimental force even further, another piece in a discography that refuses to be categorized. Rather than drift off quietly into the sunset, she might just be making the most interesting music of her career.

Skiptracing takes the listener on a beautifully produced and paced adventure that plays out like a soundtrack.