It’s as good an album by a Rostam-less Vampire Weekend in 2019 as we could have possibly gotten, and the sound is a return to Vampire Weekend and Contra except arguably better with the ‘upgraded’ production and thoughtful textures. The change from indie to mainstream in the tiniest of microcosms: a Vampire Weekend album.

Ultimately, since it took them 7 years to follow-up their last album, both of the Let’s Try the After EPs function, at the very least, as a stop-gap until their next one.

What Grande has honed on thank u, next is the way she cunningly interweaves modern r&b patois and beats that brush up against the boundaries of top 40.

This is rhythmically agile music, thankfully. The songwriting is sturdy, too, even if it can sometimes feel like Bradford & friends are running on an autopilot setting set to David Bowie’s Low.

His chillwave sensibilities remain, but they’re bolstered by more direct elements from the popular hip-hop and disco funk sounds of today.

Her instincts as a songwriter--one of the best of the decade, surely--have not been diminished or neglected in her pursuit of an expanded, sometimes experimental sound. These ten new songs, some of her best yet, brim with heart and wisdom.

Assume Form is at its best, unsurprisingly, when he works at the periphery of his formulae.

For a producer who’s produced songs for a who’s who of modern artists (including the occasional non-rapper like Lana Del Rey), he mostly sticks to his guns on his debut album, which applies to both the sonics (there was no way any producer sampling Annie’s “Anthonio”--the Berlin Breakdown version--was going to be bad; that’s the ear-worming sample doing all the heavy-lifting on “Overdue”) and the features.

All told, Oneohtrix Point Never’s latest album is good, but it’s also his worst ‘proper’ album since his critical breakthrough. In attempting (but not fully committing to) his most accessible release, Age Of doesn’t feel like it’ll go down well with any particular audience.

Ultimately, easily one of the most simultaneously hardest and atmospheric hip-hop albums of the year.

Ultimately, the bigged up production doesn’t suit .Paak’s soulful tendencies, which are further lost in his switch to rap. There are a few highlights, sure, but not nearly enough for an artist who I would’ve placed bets would be the next Big Thing.

Because it deviates from what fans expected, Sweetener takes a couple rotations to sink in, but if you give it time, you’ll see Ariana Grande really threw it down when she took down her ponytail.

A great way to approach I’m All Ears is by thinking of it as a jam session, where both Walton and Hollingworth experiment news ways of making music and detailing experience. It allows for a mishmash of elements and influences to come together in a bizarre and ultimately rewarding experience.

The production here is all skeletal beats but heavy-hitting drums, letting Thought do most of the heavy-lifting on his own. ... Ultimately, Thought’s first solo release does what’s expected of him; I just wish it did a little more.

It is an album far less fun than her previous ones, but that’s the point: Allen’s a bit tired of fun, and isn’t afraid to admit that “fun” can sometimes be the source of your troubles.

A personal triumph that continues her revamping of what pop means today. Its contents show a trajectory from acts like Art of Noise into ‘90s pop and Eurodance to today’s droning and experimental music by acts such as Lotic.

The experimentation keeps things interesting and is a rare and welcome sight for a musician in his fifties, but it’s the songs that aim for summer afternoon in the suburbs of “Gold Soundz” or “Range Life” that are his forte and the album’s best.

It’s not her best (nothing is quite like “Get Some”) but it’s a fresh change from an artist who gave us both subtle and surefire signs she might head in this direction.

Another rare instance of an artist coming up with a classic a decade after what seemed like the peak of his career (Clipse’s Hell Hath No Fury), and the only thing that could’ve made it better was if he pre-released “Infrared” so that Drake could’ve responded and we could’ve had an album with “The Story of Adidon” on it.

All told, Ye is thin gruel when placed next to Kanye’s intellectual transgressions, not to mention an impeccable oeuvre. As an aural experience, it offers a mix of triumph and nostalgia. Results will vary, depending on your willingness to embark on this very short, often thrilling, ride. But for an artist defined by grandiosity, Ye is frustratingly slight.

This is the kind of album you might find yourself less inclined to play all the way through than scroll through the tracklist and queue up songs at will, but there’s enough great music here that you could have a new favorite song every day.

Its arc is more satisfying than those of Narkopop or Konigsförst, though it lacks either of those albums’ sense of vastness. It certainly pales next to Pop and the underloved Zauberberg, which I’ve always felt were tied for the title of Voigt’s masterpiece.

Tell Me How You Really Feel peaks midway, on “Nameless, Faceless”. The album’s lead single, with its descending guitar notes and a Margaret Atwood reference, finds Barnett employing old tools to tackle a newsworthy social ill. It’s breathless and gutting, a short and sweet examination of sex and violence. It draws blood, but so does the rest of the album.

Though it dissects insecurities and shortcomings as much as it does success, Dirty Computer unabashedly refuses to downplay or apologize for its behavior. ... With this forthright attitude comes fresh ways for Monáe to play on subject matters.

Beach House’s new record 7, lives up to all the hype you can heap on it and more. 7 is massive and intimate, dense yet understandable, fresh yet classic.

Singularity is the follow up every fan would hope for. It's larger; it's denser; it's quicker. It’s a 63-minute microhouse masterpiece. It rebroadcasts Hopkins’ sound as a more atmospheric, clearer vision.

Sometimes Cardi B runs out of things to say. “Bartier Cardi”, though it rips, repeats its extensive chorus five different times. “Money Bag” stomps forward with “Bodak Yellow”’s flow and sound, and in my opinion, last year’s favorite record pales in comparison to the strides she makes on Invasion… The vulnerability on display in the standout “Be Careful”, where Cardi B shows off a soft singing voice and a softer side, is a perfect example.

Uchis’s voice possesses a bit of that wooden Winehouse timbre, but it comes out the same way Uchis does everything else, leisurely. Its slight lilt sometimes puts her out of tune, yet the imperfections play very much into Isolation’s outsider status.

Sex and Food is a beautiful introspection and a far better answer to the day’s political malaise and helplessness than my usual response of embarking on an enraged and slutty food binge.

The way it ping-pongs between pastiche and higher art is interesting. But so much of this music has been done better by other artists that it’s understandable if you see no reason to listen to 2012-2017 in favor of superior disco edits by Tiger & Woods or DJ Harvey, or more beguiling avant-acid house by Africans with Mainframes--or, y’know, a Nicolas Jaar album.

Julian has been leading us here since First Impressions of Earth, he has finally made his no-fi, bonkers masterpiece.

Pleasure for the listener is probably moot for a project like this, but Elverum has an instinctive gift for immersive, imagistic arrangements, and it’s wonderful to hear him indulge it again on Now Only.

Space Gun is one of Pollard’s best. ... Unlike almost all the rest, there is virtually no filler here.

Like Summer Sun, there’s more ambience, more general keyboard and synth blear, more lounge-pad speckles and dots, but the songwriting is rudimentary even by this band’s standards and the tone color doesn’t vary as much as they maybe thought it did.

It’s a hearty mix, but that’s not to communicate that Superorganism are just good curators, they also are fresh creators.

On the 2018 remake (full title: Twin Fantasy (Face to Face)), Toledo maintains his vulnerability but hides behind layers of noise and production value. ... But if Toledo’s production sensibilities are still a work in progress, his sense of humor and wit continue to shine through.

Generally speaking, where Black Panther succeeds most is in these moments where Kendrick blends South African and American sounds together.

Now we have Little Dark Age. The true follow up to Congratulations, the record that is doomed to enjoy the benefit of the regret of the music writers who panned Congratulations and also to enjoy the inevitable backlash against the backlash. The record is more than good enough to earn these accolades. The highs are very high.

So what has five years changed? Not much, in the best possible way. More smooth soul commentaries on sensuality and longing, more time shaped melodies and movements. The differences between their Woman and Blood are the subtle groove changes.

Migos have mastered their craft, but they spend too much time delivering what we expect instead of exploring their more interesting caprices.

Semicircle’s many pleasures--of melody, of tone color, of ideals never losing the beat--deserve an essay’s worth of exposition (no, really).

Like [Prince's 1981 album] Controversy’s title track handing off to “Sexuality” or many other examples, there are stylistic switches in War & Leisure too: the aforementioned “City of Angels” between the album’s two best grooves (“Told You So” and “Caramelo Duro”), but the switches don’t feel natural--they just feel like the “shuffle” was the chosen method of sequencing. Too much leisure, not enough war.

All told, it’s another win in both artists’ books, but a mild one.

The best song comes early in “Ghostface Killers”, with an excellent rapped chorus from Offset that’s been running through my head since the tape dropped and Travis Scott sounding excellent as always even if he doesn’t say much anything at all.

Open Mike Eagle is one of the few artists that seems to improve with every release, and just when you thought he couldn’t get better than a full collaboration with Paul White on yesteryear’s Hella Personal Film Festival, he does just that. It helps that the various producers manage to make unique beats that still fit in with the album’s general aesthetic.

Turn Out the Lights is an exciting sophomore effort from an even more exciting artist. While the album isn’t a tremendous leap forward from Sprained Ankle, Baker emerges with her vision and voice more fully formed. Wherever she goes from here, the world will be waiting to meet her.

Plunge is a worthy addition to Dreijer’s career discography, and fans of Fever Ray and the Knife are sure to enjoy it. It’s an energetic and erotic record that may very well soundtrack some of the freakier parties you attend this fall. Still, it doesn’t capture the full scope of Dreijer’s ambition.

The Ooz is an Archy Marshall hash, the strange scraps of his brain stewed into something unrecognizable and delicious.

What’s left is an artist reframing the landscape, a reverse-chameleon who can’t camouflage, but transforms the world around her instead. “Pop” is the sound of a bubble bursting.

This is a record where the sum is greater than the parts, whereas The Epic was its parts (and having a lot of them). Harmony of Difference is another win in Kamasi Washington’s book.

Luciferian Towers is a better album than Asunder. I’d venture that it’s even better than 2012’s Allelujah! Don’t Bend, Ascend! by virtue of its interludes not being completely disposable. It’s less bold than their earliest and best work (I wish they’d make another double LP one of these days), but it bodes well for their future, and stands as one of the best albums of the year.

Perhaps one of the most macabre albums of the year, Okovi shines in its ability to beautifully illustrate a disturbing but ultimately shared human experience.

While the album is beautiful both sonically and lyrically, in some of the tracks, Batmanglij falls into his older artistic patterns that feel played out. However, if you weren’t aware that he was in Vampire Weekend, this might not be as obvious.

Title track aside, this a really good album by a really sketchy guy.

Too little is far better than too much as dozens of overstuffed double albums have taught fans of each decade. Every song here is a hit and Antisocialites is brilliant.

It’s a different kind of thing now, even if the fundamentals are unchanged. It finds the National snapping out of the comfortable groove they’ve settled in over the last decade, fuelled by strife, battle-tested wisdom, and a touch of righteousness.

American Dream is as close to a unified artistic statement that Murphy has delivered. I’d argue it’s his first front-to-back, total triumph.

Even though it doesn’t do nearly enough to distinguish itself from the band’s earlier albums, it’s an enjoyable enough listen that it’s not too hard to excuse its flaws.

Bronson still creates a respectable hip-hop trilogy (not many of those), and gives us his most worthwhile long-player since 2012’s Rare Chandeliers.

While Milo’s lyrical wit has remained sharp over the years, the beats he raps over have gotten better and better with every release, culminating in Who Told You To Think??!!?!?!?! as the best batch of beats he’s rapped over.

Sophomore album Always Strive and Prosper had ASAP Ferg striving to expand his lyrical and sonic palette and prospering less than half of the time. Still Striving then, perhaps self-consciously titled, course-corrects by dropping pretense and delivering what we came to Ferg for in the first place: banging beats, fire flows. Some of the time, anyway. 11 out of 14 of these tracks have guest features, and a high percentage of them don’t leave much impression.

Only when you dive in does the beauty reveal itself. Grizzly Bear have never been afraid to expect something of the listener. That’s never been truer than on Painted Ruins.

Rainbow may not contain the electrobops you expect from Kesha Sebert, but at its heart, it does possess what drew everyone to her in the first place: confidence, sonic booms, and an assurance that everything will be alright when the storm clears.

Overall, Mellow Waves sits nicely in Cornelius’ discography. Not as scene as Fantasma or exploratory as Point. This record uses the studio magic in a more utilitarian way.

Where the first half of the album is strong but routine, the back half finds mixed but more interesting results.

Flower Boy has elevated Tyler closer to the line. An unexpected move to be sure, but no less impressive whatsoever.

Soft vocals percolate through the record, lending it a remarkable emotional profundity. Though at times the record feels a little repetitive, Zauner’s lyrical skill keeps it from being boring.

Need to Feel Your Love is an excellent debut, and if this record is any indication, Sheer Mag is set to continue their trend of making great music.

Her signature honest, unpretentious vocals shine through on each track, conveying her struggle with each note she sings.

It might take you a couple of spins to fully appreciate Boo Boo. At times, it’s very slow-moving, and some of Bear’s experiments don’t land. ... Don’t let the more experimental qualities keep you from listening to the record, though.

The reality is that Something to Tell You, though strong in its own right, just doesn’t quite live up to the pomp and circumstance established by Days.

He now realizes he is as much part of the product as the music he makes and seems happy to be taking a backseat to the performers he’s enlisted for his fifth studio album. At no point do Harris’ sandpapery vocals scrape against the beat; this time he lets his beats do the talking.

4:44 is just about the safest way Jay-Z could have re-asserted his dominance: smarter raps over soulful beats over a very concise runtime.

For a band that creates as rabid of fans as Beach House, this b-sides collection is a welcome addition to one of the best independent catalogs this decade.

“Suck” is a fun funk-inspired dance reminiscent of early Blondie, but doesn’t match the overall mood of the record, leading it to sound out of place. Nonetheless, Nothing Feels Natural is a great debut from an exciting band; arguably the best debut of the year.

The result is a record that’s concerned about faith, death, and the metaphysical. It’s heady stuff but grounded with vignettes of everyday activities--a beautiful, comforting second work from the singer.

Make no mistake--this is an album that’s challenging and demands attention, but if you can stay focused, you’ll be richly rewarded.

A truly progressive, existential, emotionally saturated hip-hop album that establishes the value of dance-centric collaboration by reminding us that it’s exactly that. And it will win this way, every single time.

Though it’s a tad long, and there are points where I get the sense that the band is still feeling out this new sound, Darnielle and crew have crafted a marvelous record that earns its place in the esteemed Mountain Goats canon while standing tall on its own merits.

Two and a half hours is a hefty commitment, but if you take the time, you’ll have fun with this one.

“Soothing” sounds legitimately fresh in a way very little new music does, and while it carries inescapable echoes of other artists (the bass line reminds me of peak career Tom Waits), the overall impression is that Laura Marling is paving new ground in her brand of folk music. Unfortunately--you knew there was going to be an “unfortunately”--there are only small glimpses of that innovation on the rest of the album.

The more you listen, the more you’re likely to find, and the more you find, the more you’re likely to like Beautiful Thugger Girls. It’s not quite as endlessly explorable as Jeffery and doesn’t quite project the same confidence and swagger.

Self-care has allowed Lorde to make something extraordinary and authentic, something that takes you by the hand and assures you that you can survive and thrive in the same sea of emotion.

[“The Bus Song” is] Unpretentious and thoroughly enjoyable indie pop/rock; expertly crafted. Nothing on the album comes close to it, even though there are moments.

A perfect pop soundtrack for the summer search for perfect love.

Their third record is their best, a meandering, wild, untamable masterpiece from a front man who refuses to stop studying and refuses to be predictable.

Planetarium demands repeated listening, the passages and movements make individual songs stand out less as it is not completely obvious when one track is ending and another is beginning. The record almost sounds modular in the vein of Brian Wilson’s technique on Smile.

The moments when his music really comes alive with joy are the best on Teenage Emotions, and they’re often the less rap-oriented moments.

With an extraordinary remix of Sgt. Pepper, Giles Martin has knocked down the wall between the myth of the greatest pop album of all time and the listener’s experience.

Bouchard really puts work into these tunes. He strives to make each one better than it really needs to be.

It feels like a natural evolution of what Coltrane was doing, anyway.

Harry Styles is fun listening and will rightly soundtrack many a summer. But after demanding to be treated as a capital-A Artist, Harry Styles finds himself atop a pedestal without anything to say.

More often than not, however, this album brings you into its world and convinces you that love really is redemptive, that it can hold back the hounds at the gate.

If a person asks how to get into Slowdive, the correct answer is still to start with Souvlaki but Slowdive wouldn’t be a bad second choice.

Feist is sounding her most directional in a decade.

Humanz, Damon’s fourth record as Gorillaz, is not his best, but it didn’t need to be. It’s a comeback record that’s less immediate and sugary than Plastic Beach, less iconic than the self-titled or Demon Days. It is a party record that sounds like it was made at a party rather than for one.

AZD is a slim, sparse electronica record. For all its high and low frequencies, it leaves much of the human audible range empty, space to imagine.

This one is no less ambitious and rewarding than some of his previous entries.