History admittedly feels a bit forced in spots, working too hard to set the mood, instead of letting things happen organically.

Years to Burn is a beautiful sounding recording and for fans of Calexico and Iron & Wine's initial collaborative release, this is a nice treat after all these years. But ultimately, Years to Burn doesn't have the same spark that In the Reins did.

A meticulous songwriter and producer, Jordan Rakei has opened up his sound with Origin, extending an invitation into a highly creative mind eager to deepen the bonds created with his listeners.

The arrangements roll and soar while leaving room for more intimate revelations, which is where Western Stars really finds its stride.

Sirens is by far the most personal album Kevin Richard Martin has ever made.

Baroness have outdone themselves with Gold & Grey. Armed with a fresh sound and well-honed talent, they are finally ready to be recognized as one of the most important bands in modern rock music.

Maybe it's the tedium of a career spanning nearly two decades, or a shred of complacency settling in after winning the highly coveted Mercury Prize in 2016, but Skepta seems subdued on Ignorance. A decent album, but not his best.

In spite of its occasional faults, Chura's distinct vocals are captivating throughout Midnight. Stef Chura lets her voice crack, crease, and crumble however it wants, pairing vocal fry with vulnerable vibrato. Her voice matches Midnight's offerings perfectly, walking the line between visceral passion and an exhausted shrug.

Serving as an exercise in humility, Black Friday is a testament to the value of tenderness in a world steeped in trepidation. For new listeners, the album should function as a cohesive introduction to a band on the rise — and a great point of entry to an already impressive discography.

Nighttime Stories is the most memorable Pelican album since 2009's What We All Come to Need. They're showing no signs yet of slowing down yet.

Final Transmission feels like an intimate farewell letter to a lost friend, and a fitting tribute to former bass player Caleb Scofield.

By paying proper homage to his soul elders, while also employing more distinctly subtle singing and a greater relatability via his plainspoken lyrics, Smith sets himself apart with 1634 Lexington Avenue.

The album isn't perfect; it is a little too slow in spaces, a little too quiet, and sometimes it is too serious. Fussell is capable of being goofy, but even the humour here never rises above a wry chuckle.

At eight tracks, some might criticize it on grounds of length, but these are robust, well-crafted songs that, even after multiple spins, reveal fresh details between the more obvious hooks.

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.

While none of Samsara is necessarily bad, there are moments where tracks start to blend together and lose focus. This doesn't necessarily take away from the amazing moments of the album, but as a whole it could use a bit more variance. That being said, the record makes it clear that Venom Prison are destined to join the top of the new-school death metal pack

A little more understated than her recent collaborations with Jeff Tweedy, who similarly wrote songs and produced them for Staples, We Get By is still a gem and Mavis Staples and Ben Harper clearly hit upon something special in working together.

Dépaysé is for fans of Sinkane; new listeners might stop for a minute to appreciate the vibe before moving on.

Yes, Pianoworks does have its beautiful moments of levity; Cooper is great at that. But the experience of listening to it feels very passive. It's happening, but you, the listener, are not so much involved as you are just in the vicinity. It doesn't wrap you up and envelop you the way Eluvium works often do.

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

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.

An intoxicating mix of celestial soul, sprightly funk and glossy, luxurious rock'n'roll, Apollo XXI is a self-assured and sonically robust exploration of love, lust and identity politics. Lacy scatters pearls of post-adolescent wisdom in the lyrics, and drives the album forward with infectious melodies and an angelic falsetto. But Apollo's chewy production is where Lacy makes his mark.

With The Last Word, The O'Jays end their legendary career on a peak.

While it's tough to imagine Whitechapel ever topping This Is Exile--one of the most important deathcore albums ever--this record is an extremely close second. The Valley solidifies the band in their current musical direction and is easily Whitechapel's most diverse and well-composed album.

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.

At the end of the day, this project shows Megan Thee Stallion in her most refined element--confident, powerful and never submissive.

The album is captivating from beginning to end, and shows Employed to Serve have mastered the art of making chaos digestible.

It is big, bold and absolutely electrifying.