They channel experimental noise, acid-drenched riffs, and live-show spontaneity into a record of brilliantly crafted nuggets of lysergic rock that is easily their most consistent effort to date.

FLOTUS chases a particular spark of inspiration across its hour-plus runtime, as if attempting to prolong an ephemeral moment when anything felt possible.

This is not the sound of settling.

Awesome the riffs may be, one might only want to hear them in small bursts lest they risk being worn out. Still, there’s enough variation to stave off sameness, and the band is smart enough to switch it up from track-to-track.

Somehow they've upped their jubilation game without making too many sonic changes since 2005's self-titled debut.

Buoyant voices erupt in urgent chants, while xylophones, thumb pianos, and percussion create a swirling, hallucinatory web of sound equal to the freakiest psychedelia. [Oct 2008, p.114]

The final result is a balm to soothe well-trodden emotional frequencies.

It's a set of torch songs to do Nico proud--some folkie, some neo-soul, all darker than your closet at midnight. [Oct 2003, p.113]

HEAVN is musically spry and spiritually hefty at 41 minutes, the questioning half of a nationally fraught Q&A that’s long deserved the answers, none of whom are currently running for president.

Happiness hasn’t blunted his keen social insight, though, as he empathizes with latchkey teens (“Tight Rope”), reflects on friends trapped in the street life (“Slippin’ Away”), and rues slavery’s consequences (“The Travelers”).

Recognizable shapes of jazz and post-rock often accompany Gira's baritone croon, but they're always delivered between passages of fastidiously crafted clamor that's as cauterizing as ever.

When any of Hinterland‘s nine disco-punk tracks gets in the pocket, the bass, guitar, and drums could run out for a half-hour, remaining insistent in their funk without breaking stride or sagging in momentum.

The results are even more immersive than the stuttering microhouse rhythms on which he built his reputation originally.

For maybe the first time, the Evens actually make you miss Fugazi a little bit less.

Harry’s House reinforces Styles’ signature sensitivity in an authentic way and shows he’s more than earned his place as one of music’s most innovative artists. More importantly, he reminds us that he’s a pop star playing by his own rules—and he’s here for the long haul.

The enthralling Real Animal presents a concise overview of the man's art and life, encompassing the punk fury of the Nuns, the country-rock twang of Rank and File, the rootsy guitar assault of True Believers, and the late-era tortured, string-quintet balladry that showcases his unbearably sad voice.

Even though it’s a brisk seven songs, it lingers as the best pieces of writing tend to do.

Dose attempts to go everywhere and do everything. Opener “None of Your Business Man” is classic Abraham ascendancy (and the perfect anthem to quit your job to). “Torch to Light” introduces the double LP’s first moment of psychedelia, a new-ish venture for the band that’s sprinkled throughout. Mascis’s contribution on “Came Down Wrong” is, unsurprisingly, fuzzy, lackadaisical indie rock. “Dose Your Dreams” is disco. “Two I’s Closed” is a Beatles ballad. “The One I Want Will Come for Me” recalls shoegaze-y Cure.

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

Superchunk clearly trust their music to hold up under all the heaviness of life's big questions, and trust us to hold up, too.

Hospice is packed with lofty choruses and extended instrumental passages (the alternately elegiac and tedious 'Atrophy'). But with emotional drama in abundance (mostly from vocalist Peter Silberman’s fiery, tormented shouts), sonic indulgences like the astral guitar blasts on “Thirteen” offer genuine catharsis.

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

As important as the production is, though, it’s still the songwriting that makes Pawn Shop stand out.

The album is another leap forward for the producer, refining his sense of songcraft and expanding his instrumental palette without sanding down his rough edges in the slightest. Faith doubles down on the industrial brutality of Problems, while also balancing that with a sense of hope and comfort rarely heard from Stott previously.

Isolation Drills' anthems are shamelessly charming, even bashfully moving. [June 2001, p.153]

As a sonic experience, Tempest kicks most Dylan albums in the cojones.

When Sheer Mag is on, they’re turned up to 11. Playing Favorites proves that joy can show up defiantly, wearing a sleeveless denim vest, and sometimes, a rollicking good time is the glue holding our hearts together.

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