It’s Georgia Maq’s raw-edged vocals you’ll remember, and the consistency of the musical canvas opens space for her to work. Her lyrics articulate human entanglements with a lack of sentimentality that belies how much she cares, and like Hop Along’s Frances Quinlan, she has a gift for evoking shame hand-in-hand with fury.

Torche's sound is touched by many of these bands, but not beholden to any of them: In fact, the band sounds more singular than ever on Restarter, becoming less sonically limited as their aesthetic grows more defined.

Blawan never forgets that in addition to turning our rushing heads and moving bodies inward, which Wet Will Always Dry most assuredly does, this sort of music can and should also, you know, entertain.

Apart from its near-voyeuristic intimacy, Piano & A Microphone is most interesting when one imagines what this session meant to Prince at the time.

While other possible sonic antecedents abound, the full album feels more roots than retro, old tools reclaimed to new ends.

He's proven he can assimilate into the world of mainstream rap while still retaining his singularity.

The Breeders’ there/not there qualities are such that unacquainted listeners will imagine what the band sounds like and they’d be right. Expedient and necessary, All Nerve is what we need now, next week, in 2023.

This is an album of magnificent segues and, no surprise given the source, beautiful female vocals. [Sep 2001, p.155]

Like its creator, Matangi is flawed, frustrating, and occasionally confusing, but it's also intermittently brilliant and completely unique.

The Danish duo condense pop's last 45 years into the pure, simple essence of an early Jackson 5 single. [Sep 2007, p.132]

The result may be the year's heaviest, creepiest, and sexiest hard-rock group effort. [Oct 2007, p.104]

The addition of female vocalist Mama “Mahassa” Walet Amoumine and periodic excursions into skanky Caribbean rhythms (wryly dubbed “Tuareggae” by Bombino) stamp Azel as yet another remarkable transition for the guitarist.

After the Disco is the rare, superior sequel--think Toy Story 2--to Mercer and Burton's seemingly one-off self-titled 2010 debut as Broken Bells.

If you're looking for a record that'll make you wanna trash your beloved's belongings and have make-up sex amid the ruins, 21's your jam.

Singer-songwriters Becky Stark (of Lavender Diamond), Inara George (of the Bird and the Bee), and Eleni Mandell convene for this relaxed, deceptively sophisticated gem of an album.

Strangely enough, Utah Saints have never sounded better... [Sep 2001, p.163]

At times, F&L rival Ariel Pink for eccentric sonic pastiche, while there's enough elasticity in "Too Much Midi (Please Forgive Me)" to hold up an entire generation's leg warmers.

The album manages to balance the extremes and convey the chaos of it all. The sound, which Lee wanted to be bigger and bolder, is both of those things. The anthemic choruses are plentiful and unforgettable, and the instruments explode in a way that hopefully can be played live in the near future, vaccines willing.

After ranting against Christian extremism on their last outing, they're back to mindless fun, and with new drummer Westin Glass, they've resurrected the savage, speed-strummed fervor that once made Kill Rock Stars matter.

The Id, like On How Life Is before it, never seems too polished because Gray adamantly pursues her complicated pleasures, belying her image as a stoned soul picnic... [Oct 2001, p.123]

American Slang sticks to the template Fallon's been hammering away at since the band's beginning; its stories star the same kind of characters and its garage-punk sound still sparkles with flashes of Motown and R&B.

The luminous All Things Will Unwind uses strings, brass, marimba, and mellotron, brilliantly showcasing her operatic, slightly scary voice in tricky songs that remain fresh after repeated plays.

Though his delivery veers between strength and frailty, he's in full control. [Aug 2006, p.83]

Jonny Greenwood’s electric fuzz, supplementary rhythms, and beloved vintage Ondes Martenot synthesizer add real bulk to this Middle East meets East plus West experiment in cultural diplomacy.

After the proggy overindulgence of their previous two albums, these Texans gracefully balance the dynamic alt rock of 2002's Source Tags & Codes with their more recent multimovement epics.

At almost 30 minutes exactly, PC Music Volume 1 quits while it’s ahead.

Lust for Life is a spectacular 72 minutes long. It trades in the same intently, atmospherically narcotic sound Del Rey and primary producer Rick Nowels have favored since the beginning.

Nightmare Ending may not be Cooper's most cohesive record, but it's a perfect representation of the indie-rock generation's most diverse ambient musician.

Their wit keeps maturing, but TMBG's gentle weirdness is forever young.

In terms of maturity and effort, each of these six reverb-soaked romps is as much of a leap forward from last year's King of the Beach as that record was from Nathan Williams' homemade 2009 debut.

After a decade of diving deep into the abstract, Björk's now more grounded and human than ever, thanks to the two most unfathomable ideas of them all: love and heartache.

Grid of Points is as untidy as 2005’s Way Their Crept or 2008’s Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill. What’s different--and what’s key--is that in her ongoing embrace of the piano, Harris has made room in her artistry for a new sensation: the unmistakable glow of comfort.

Beyondless is a far cry from the New Brigade immediacy that attracted fans, but it offers something perhaps much more valuable: longevity, if you’re on their side.

She treats Americana like a wellspring of weirdness, not a retro refuge. [Sep 2002, p.134]

The Roots have never sounded this raw on record, this much like an actual band playing in an actual room. [Jan 2003, p.95]

Ndegeocello still swings for the same musical fences she did in '93. Here, though, she puts more shots into the seats. [Mar 2002, p.129]

Pluto wears that influence loosely, without ever feeling formally indebted to it.

Lady Gaga certainly wasn't born this way, but she's making a convincing case that she's evolving into our most surreally brilliant pop star.

An album so urgent and pressing that it often foregoes language for feeling, explanations for executions.

Talk a Good Game is her realness in full flower, an album that balances world-weariness about relationships with infectious dollops of sexual agency, tackling the vagaries of love almost exclusively and offering anthems for experiences that every woman has had (or will have) at some point.

They deepen their sound past lo-fi into something redolent of actual studio polish.

What does one call eight songs in 25 minutes? An EP? A mini-LP? Just don't call it a placeholder--there are too many bulldozer riffs here, even in the under-a-minute sketches.

In dealing with the inevitable change that loss engenders, Ed Schrader’s Music Beat and Dan Deacon have crafted a memorable and eclectic record.

At its wildest moments, this synthesized Gensho sounds like the universe throwing up in its own mouth.

These tracks don’t bear the outward signs of mourning of Rashad’s release, but at their heart there’s a sort of solitude that only occasionally makes its way onto the dance floor.

The album itself feels improvisational, but not loose; recorded live, it features very few edits or overdubs.

Offering a slightly subtler take on the style-shuffling of 2009′s Heartbeat Radio, Lerche somehow never loses cohesion.

The bulk of Unorthodox Jukebox benefits from presenting Bruno Mars as he truly imagines himself: a big belter with an ear for pop hooks, sure, but one unafraid to dive into murkier waters.

Nocturnal Koreans, the band’s 15th album, forgoes power for stillness, and manages the unprecedented: It’s the best thing they’ve done in 14 years.

This Baltimore dream-pop duo, whose dense-fog organs, reverb-y slide guitars, and nodding harmonies feel as lush as a midnight walk in a wet garden. On their third album, those feelings now sound like actual songs, with swelling choruses and an all-encompassing ache.

Against all odds, this is a lyrics record, deliberate where you expect it to be insane (or inane), a smart listen in the tradition of Largely Incomprehensible Lyrics That Nonetheless Sound as If They Had Actual Time and Multiple Drafts Put Into Them.

Dub dropouts and freestyle toasts monkey with the beat; the rap on 'Magnificent Seven' yields to 'Armagideon Time,' then returns for more. Many people probably danced. [Nov 2008, p.89]

Even at his most contemplative and nuanced, Deacon remains a DIY trickster at heart.

Just as you've got Cold House pegged as a way-underground cousin to Kid A and Vespertine, another element comes in from far left-field: hip-hop. [Dec 2001, p.163]

A gentle, finely-wrought memory of an album, The Negatives won't change lives, but it will charm and occasionally haunt them.

What keeps Murphy from being an insufferable know-it-all is how he folds deeper emotions into his references....Older, snottier, his edge remains.

It’s not at all certain that this lovely, gentle record will ever get a follow-up--fortunately, it already sounds damn-near timeless.

By seamlessly incorporating disparate collaborations into the fabric of this City, Crampton summons a greater collective strength than they’ve exhibited on their own--and implies that, going forward, her muse could lead her anywhere, with anyone.

Honey, sparkling yet subtly realized and constantly in motion, follows Robyn from the precipice of heartbreak into the club and onto the beach, and eventually toward something resembling redemption.

Breezy in its boldness (12 tracks, under 50 minutes), this is a heavily considered album from the only reasonable rap star around.

[A] crop of relatively cheerful-sounding — not to mention industrious, and never dull--tracks.

Once it all sinks in, the self-released approach, scrapped-together band, and 29-minute running time should only shock those who expected this to be a huge statement by Grace on anyone's terms but her own. This is no rock opera, no American Idiot, no novelty.

For all of the tension in the music, Barrow and his cohorts couldn't sound more relaxed, natural, and at home weird home.

Two Suns is the rare concept album that's better for the bedroom than for bong hits.

Nominal solo debut notwithstanding, Blunderbuss is the sound of a mid-career stride.

You certainly won’t find a clunker among Hitchhiker’s more familiar cuts, though few of them surpass the official versions. ... Young’s talent is vast and his art contains plenty of contradictions. Hitchhiker stands as proof that no matter how strange his creations might sometimes seem, he always draws them from the same well.

It isn't traditionally enjoyable, and it isn't supposed to be.... It's the most daring record he could've made.

Call it Everything About The Girl. [Mar 2007, p.99]

Both the production and Wyatt's shape-shifting croon are so butter-smooth that it takes repeated plays to sense the hurt that hides behind these dance-floor lullabies.

Matsson is a Harry Smith acolyte, but his understanding of Americana (and American English) is fractured, and his songs are jammed with enough surprises to make him seem like a singular new talent.

Jackson writes open-endedly, shifting between direct experience and metaphor; mysteries left unsolved by her lyrics and persona are alternately heightened and resolved by the hurt in her voice, the assuredness of her arrangements.

The Hives want it all, so they've risked everything on an album that audibly fights to earn it. [Nov 2007, p.113]

Despite passing echoes of Spoon and Violent Femmes, Delta Spirit's rough barroom pop is its own creature, with jangly pianos, rattling drums, and scruffy acoustic guitars making a thrilling ruckus.

Though periodically unfocused, it mostly succeeds in not only championing the spirit of collaboration but also accentuating its guests’ artistic strengths. Throughout this record, Vernon and Dessner find joy in community.

EMA has crafted a wide-eyed, open-eared, reasonably horrified, digi-noise drone-folk treatise about the soul-sucking, privacy-wrecking qualities of online life.

With his first album for Warp, OPN proves his mettle amid labelmates like Aphex Twin and Flying Lotus.

While Fearless (Taylor’s Version) isn’t quite the essential listen that a brand-new record typically would be, it’s certainly a compelling revisitation, executed with the same rigor and attention given to all of Swift’s projects.

FUTURE is lively and engaging, with production and rapping that feels consciously animated.

The result is some of the loosest, most facinating music of their career. [Apr 2008, p.92]

As the conviction of his verses grows throughout the album, so does the scope of its production. Building on the more upbeat instrumentals of last year’s Disco!, MIKE continues to expand his musical palette on production, adding dancehall, bossa nova and more to his signature slowed vocal loops. The result is some of his most uplifting songs yet.

In Conflict is queer outsider art at its most fraught and compelling.

Morning/Evening is beautiful in its own right, if you’re patient.

The libretto and effects boards on Sleep Well Beast may signal doom, but the replenished energy in the music feels life-affirming. Somehow, the most despondent album they’ve ever made still sounds like a celebration.

The album reasserts his status as a uniquely fascinating rapper. On Some Rap Songs, he’s making the most adventurous and exciting music of his career so far.

Though A Brief Inquiry is just as dizzying and disorienting as 2016’s heroically omnivorous i love it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it, the 1975 take themselves a little more seriously now.

In a genre where “authenticity” is supposedly located in stripped-down effortless amateurism, Priests is at their most authentic when they’re using performance to challenge themselves and their audience.

Many of the tracks conclude with two- or three-minute outros, but that's where The 20/20 Experience is often at its best.

While occasionally meandering or drifting into tempests of digital noise, Herren focuses on a path of rapturous melancholy.

Farther into the cosmos is sister record Attention Please, the least "metal" thing the band have released to date, which focuses on icy rhythms and smoky moods, as if they're slinking up alongside the xx.

It’s hard to imagine a better record to stone and dethrone the three reigning M’s of ’90s indie: Malkmus, Mascis, and Martsch.

Everybody Talking might not be the very best record Gucci’s ever released--as much as everyone’s rooting for him right now, it’s hard to say whether this album can displace Chicken Talk or Mr. Zone 6 in his vast canon. But it’s by far the greatest cause for celebration in all of Gucci’s career; the iceman comebacketh.

If you want a "black metal album" that serves dually as make-out music and a loneliness weapon, this is as emo and earnest as it gets.

Game Theory is the Roots at their heaviest. [Sep 2006, p.114]

The music is stately and nocturnal guitar pop, arranged precisely and played with quiet conviction, as sure of its purpose as the song’s narrator seems unsure of theirs.

Will ultimately is a record about going places, even if it takes its sweet time. Uninterested in either Point A or Point B, Will is happy to just drift about in the in-between.

The closet thing to Bob Dylan's Basement Tapes hip-hop has ever produced: a collection of songs from, and largely about, the past that bode well for the future and sound damn good today. [Dec 2002, p.140]

System's repeated willingness to make so much noise in the service of getting nowhere reveals an enduring idealism. [Feb 2003, p.96]

Collins and Bejar, who sent ideas for Labyrinthitis back and forth Postal-Service-style from their respective homes in Galiano Island and Vancouver, craft compelling songs that deserve respect in their own right. They go beyond pure pastiche by tying everything together with arrangements and lyrics that are charming in equal measure.