Every bit as creative and trippy as L'Rain's first two albums, I Killed Your Dog has some of the artist's most relatable lyrics, and cuts closer to the bone.

His growth is evident on every one of Jonny's touching, impressive moments and near-perfect blend of all the sides of the Drums' music -- and that makes his artistic triumph all the sweeter.

Tomorrow's Fire may be the most melancholic of Squirrel Flower's albums, but its sense of drama is captivating.

While it plays a less-sure hand than classic predecessors like YHLQMDLG, it nonetheless proves a welcome gift for the star's dedicated fanbase.

Goodnight Summerland is a lovely, occasionally profound album with little if anything apart from the intro that could be fairly called filler, and that would be splitting hairs.

More accessible than past Slauson Malone releases, Excelsior is still a strange, mysterious creation that warrants extensive, engrossed listening.

Overall, it feels less like a comeback and more like the latest chapter in the ongoing saga Skinner has been spinning since 2002.

Moving way beyond their debut, Goodnight, God Bless, I Love U, Delete. is the sound of artistic maturation and sonic expansion, a logical culmination of what they were trying to do in the first place.

It may not be the second -- or third to be more precise -- coming of Lush, but it's good to have Anderson back and making music as pretty, sweetly sad, and ultimately comforting as Pearlies.

One More Time... plays like a love letter, both to fans who stuck with them and to each other -- a letter that doesn't so much ask for forgiveness as offer it willingly, passionately, and without conditions.

All That Was East Is West of Me Now confirms that as an artist, he's not wasting the days he has left on the trivial, and the craft and the emotional power of this music is strong enough that we can all hope he might have another 10 or 20 years of music this good left in him.

Selvutsletter is some of the duo's most expressive and widest-ranging work -- and given how committed Volden and Hval are to experimentation, that's saying something.

It's always fascinating to hear Barnes take Forest Swords' distinctive musical vocabulary in different directions, especially when the results are as eloquent as Bolted.

The lyrics are wryly humorous, the music gritty and steamy. There isn't a dull moment here. Get it.

The charm of Danse Macabre lies in how Duran Duran seem unencumbered by expectations: they're lying back and having a good time, resulting in a record that captures their silly and serious sides in equal measure.

Madres deals with serious subject matter, but ultimately it's an abundantly thankful, joyous, and celebratory record.

A darker, deconstructed companion to Tracey Denim, The Twits reflects bar italia's growth into an increasingly singular, expressive band.

The album reshuffles a deck of familiar reference points, but it still deals a hand that's engaging and holds a bothered beauty of its own.

Like Justin Timberlake and Harry Styles before him, it's quite clear that Jung Kook has been christened as his boy band's main breakout, and Golden makes a great case for that push.

Hard Light is far from Delaware's rollercoaster ride, but its update of that album's spirit should please the fans Drop Nineteens made in the decades since their debut.

Woven throughout the record is Anderson's rugged, keening voice (its own special instrument) and sense of adventure. Perhaps it's not King Creosote's most cohesive effort, but it's an appropriately ambitious celebration of his first 25 years.

Zig ends up being her most focused and mature work to date, one that finds her spreading her wings and expanding her arsenal yet again.

Though Cat Power Sings Dylan: The 1966 Royal Albert Hall Concert doesn't -- and couldn't -- have the same revelatory feel of Dylan's original concert, Marshall's wise, loving performances strengthen her reputation as one of her generation's most gifted interpreters.

Its deconstructions and creative alterations of underground club music forms, combined with crystalline ambient compositions -- all pieced together like a Rammellzee panoply -- cause more sensations of wonderment, comfort, and unease.

At times, Return to Archive rivals Ultimate Care II when it comes to the more challenging, cerebral side of Matmos' music, but its fascinating reflections on how we build on and reframe the past make for a hip, thoughtful celebration of Smithsonian Folkways' forward-thinking legacy.

Even as PinkPantheress explores her deepest, darkest emotions, her songs are vibrant, hook-filled, and wildly inventive, making Heaven Knows just as worthy of repeated listens as To Hell with It, and confirming her status as a pop visionary.

This mix of warmth and wariness permeates Hadsel and, despite its idiosyncratic inspirations and unorthodox instrumentation, may well make it a timely and timeless destination for those who relate to its juxtaposition of comfort and alienation.

Production-wise, the beats are as on point as ever, typically favoring funky boom-bap with touches of psych-rock guitar, and occasionally drifting close to trip-hop melancholy ("Living Curfew," "Bermuda"). As ever, though, the main attraction is Aesop's compelling wordplay, and his ability to keep the listener's attention while veering into different lyrical and conceptual directions.

Metric have always been the kind of band to take big emotions and make them sound stadium-sized. On these two albums, they take stadium-sized emotions and make them painfully real and bleedingly human.

Choosing to transpose strings to guitar and voice helps Hatfield achieve a sense of intimacy while retaining a sense of romantic grandeur, a combination that gives Juliana Hatfield Sings ELO a distinctly warm and comforting feeling without succumbing to the pitfalls of nostalgia.

Superchunk have always strengthened their reputation with music that ranks with the most powerful and important ever made, able to move, inspire, and impress no matter the sound or subject. This collection reinforces that notion, and proves that in their second act, the band remain at the very top of their game.

Les Jardins Mystiques, Vol.1 is certainly a monolithic package, but it's more than that: it's a statement that reveals the vastness of Atwood-Ferguson's inspiration, creative breadth, and musical vision without compromise. Unique? Sure. But also profound.

If you've somehow managed to avoid hearing Billy Bragg's work, The Roaring 40 1983-2023 is an ideal starting point, and if you're already a fan, this is a top-shelf mixtape of the songs that made him a legend. Either way, it's great music with heart, soul, and a conscience.

It's hard to believe it took so long for Iron & Wine to document their live incarnation, but it is easy to believe that now that they finally have, it's as sophisticated, burnished, and emotionally true as this.

The Complete Budokan 1978 essentially reveals Dylan sets the record straight about his music at the time, while opening a gauzy curtain on the artist at life's crossroads. This missing link is a monumental addition to Dylan's discography.

This glorious, vulnerable set offers pure collaborative inspiration at once strident and vulnerable, minimal, and aesthetically expansive.

RAT WARS' abrupt pivots make a visceral impact, but they're never distracting -- they're just more proof that well into their second decade, HEALTH are still discovering formidable expressions of hurting and being hurt.

There's a tactile, analog atmosphere to Regal and White Denim's work, marked by woozy synths, vibraphones, and sundry guitar sounds, like on the intro to "Blood," where their shiny guitar and keyboard hits sounds unexpectedly like the opening to a '70s-era TV sitcom like Three's Company. Elsewhere, they conjure a kinetically thrilling, '80s post-punk energy on "Tivoli" and slide into the summery, Stevie Wonder-esque romanticism of "Idle Later."

No one interested in the bleeding edge of New Wave should be without 1978's Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! and 1980's Freedom of Choice, but if you're looking for a concise yet thorough summation of one of the smartest and most inventive bands of their time, 50 Years of De-Evolution 1973-2023 will fill the void nicely.

Revealing McRae as a potent voice and keen ear that can deliver emotion and excitement in equal measure.

It's an especially dreamy -- and seductive -- album and one that seems to find comfort in collaboration.

At its best, the album is as potent and apposite as Solange's A Seat at the Table, Laura Mvula's Pink Noise, and Little Simz's No Thank You.

Ryder-Jones still favors tranquil ballads and laid-back pop songs more than anything else, but the intimate, detailed arrangements and overall sonic scope of Iechyd Da are transformative.

Maybe Hackman just needed a little break before delivering her most compelling album to date.

Lovegaze demonstrates Hunter's range from soundscape weaver to art-pop maverick, and her music is never less than bewildering.

Sadness lurks upon the edges of the record, as does rage, but Little Rope ultimately feels cathartic: by processing Brownstein's loss and dwelling upon their shared bonds, Sleater-Kinney once again feels united and purposeful.

She grafts and threads striated post-bop harmony, edgeless dissonance, and kinetic drama simultaneously, then blurs the edges expressionistically in crafting a detailed, multivalent, resonant, deeply satisfying whole from seemingly disparate individual elements.

The Smile take more risks with this follow-up, resulting in a gorgeous, sometimes difficult trip into the unknown that, if only briefly, can make you forget about their main gig.

The album isn't designed for short attention spans or playlists but as a holistic experience that rewards committed listening with a mind-blowing sonic saga that rages, challenges, and changes more times than can be counted.

The resulting songs easily clear the bar for earnest expressions of affection, going into awkward, getting-to-know-you encounters, breakups, fears, and those small, secret moments when one's love grows stronger.

Thirstier's anthems of devotion might be more immediately gratifying, but the eloquent expressions of love's uncomfortable and uncertain parts that fill What an Enormous Room are a testament to Torres' insatiable need to seek out emotional truths.

The result is that Sadness Sets me Free is both uplifting and comforting at once. It's also just different enough from most of his other work that it feels fresh and exciting, providing more evidence that Rhys is one of the most interesting and satisfying singer/songwriters of any era.

More than just a bright spot in their career, Blood, Hair, and Eyeballs is a beacon of romantic punk defiance.

While Everybody Can't Go won't surprise anyone who has been following Benny, it does live up to his standards, and confirms his status as a major player in the rap industry.

The main directive of the album is paisley jangle, as with standout tracks like the enthusiastically poppy "Gone" or the fiendishly catchy "Goodbye," but the Umbrellas stretch their sound in all directions as Fairweather Friend plays out, calling on various corners of indie pop history yet translating it all into their own songwriting language.

These songs are ten of his better solo offerings, and they further refine his particular brand of hazy, half-awake beauty.

A remarkably assured set of bold-faced indie rock and maximalist goth pop teaming with earworm melodies, intelligent, darkly romantic lyrics, and thespian bluster.

Vera Sola's blurring of past and present sounds especially apt to the early 2020s here, but more often, Peacemaker's dreamlike world has a timeless appeal that fans of Calexico, Timber Timbre, and Marissa Nadler will love.

Alternately affectionate, suspenseful, weird, and poignant, TPTGATKOMDM is a journey, but it's brought to you by straight-up good songs.

The individual tracks matter less than the collective experience. Isolated songs may hint at Howard expanded emotional and musical pallette, but What Now is a proper album, where each segment expands and interlocks, providing a whole that's greater than its separate parts.

Floating between the interior world and the external one with ephemeral ease, PHASOR is a pleasure to experience -- and another fine example of Lange's receptive, responsive artistry.

Ducks Ltd. come fully into their own with a combination of heightened production values, arrangements that lean into discrete synthesizers and vocal layers, and sneakily depressive lyrics hidden in songs overflowing with brisk pop charm.

Among the many earnest earworms here (the cringier "KFM" notwithstanding) are songs like "God Person" ("I'm not a god person/But I'm never not searchin'") and "Don't Do Me Good," an early single featuring her friend Kacey Musgraves. Mournful but defiant, the latter song makes catchy country-rock of tough sentiments.

Personal but still very fun, Venus is a bold but totally sensical evolution in sound that avoids a third LP of the same old songs and pushes Larsson's sonic style into the future.

This isn't an acoustic album: it's a lean, nervy rock album that uses its mess and its contradictions to its own advantage.

"Dig a Hole" has a big, funky swagger, "Be So Lucky" rides its chunky tremolo riff into the sunset, and "Other Side of the Light" is a sunkissed open-road anthem worthy of the Marshall Tucker Band. These tunes provide Be Right Here with a solid foundation to endure multiple plays, but it's immediately appealing upon first spin thanks to that burnished Cobb production.

Like Deacon before it, Grip suggests serpentwithfeet's confessions and declarations can take many forms, and its light, limber songs don't sacrifice any of his innovation or soul-baring.

Compassion is a hefty companion to Uneasy. Musically, it's deeper and wider. Their mature group invention is heightened by their playing together live. They bring a fresh, intensely interactive, seemingly time-elasticizing approach to the jazz piano trio that is at once bracingly kinetic, intimate, and lyrical.

Shah's most exciting collection yet.

On Untame the Tiger, balance doesn't mean compromise; as Timony works her way through grief, she creates moving, memorable songs that fans of any point in her career can appreciate.

Though the communion and self-awareness Sadier envisions seemed almost impossible at the time of Rooting for Love's release, that's precisely why the album feels so vital.

Ross rounds out the session with two vibrant covers, including a shadowy, off-kilter take of Thelonious Monk's "Evidence" and a dewy, after-hours reading of the John Coltrane ballad "Central Park West." Those last songs nicely underscore the vibraphonist's thoughtful, entrancing distillation of blues and ballads at play throughout all of nublues.

The very pleasant surprise is that Nance and his bandmates -- guitarist James Schroeder, bassist Derrick Higgins, and drummer Kevin Donahue, with some extra guests sitting in -- slip into this music with an easy authority, more languid but no less emotionally engaged than his more raucous efforts, and the spare acoustic closer, "In Orlando," leaves no doubt that Nance can do heartache at 3 A.M. every bit as well as he can summon a wall of fuzzy mania.

There's an intimacy to the interaction between Lund and the Hurtin' Albertans that gives El Viejo a warm, weathered vibe that's every bit as appealing as the songs themselves.

"Get Numb to It!" is a late-arriving outright banger with headbanging drums, a soaring singalong chorus, and lyrics that include "do do, do do do" as well as an anthemic "No, it never gets better/It just gets twice as bad…So you better get numb to it/Get numb to it." The rest of WWBWWGFH is just as nihilistic, a potentially appealing trait given the global tenor of its time.

The appeal in this refurbished soft rock lies in the atmosphere and supple interplay, how the musicians twist melodic clichés without refuting their power, an execution that mirrors how Webster writes songs that feel slightly off-center: she delivers subtle surprises without neglecting basic pop pleasures.

Though she's never been a hesitant or unfocused artist, listening to Gordon come into her own on The Collective is a wonder, especially because she's not remaking herself to stay relevant -- it's the rest of the music and pop culture world finally catching up to her.

The sturdiness of the craft and its faithfulness to Cast's body of work means Love Is the Call could indeed function as a handsome farewell, but it also suggests the band might have more plenty of road left ahead of them.

Focus on Nature is thoroughly pleasing and beautifully crafted, the sort of album Saloman's cult following will delight in while those new to his work will wonder where his somber joy has been all their lives.

Her concentration on an especially brutal historical subject makes it one of her most bracing works, and it becomes more compelling and powerful with increased intention and awareness.

Visions is clear and light, its textures vividly articulated and its rhythms mellow and fluid. It's music that feels alive, inhaling and exhaling with a gentle insistence; it's never rushed, never clipped.

While at this point there's some unavoidable self-awareness to their craft, it does nothing to take away from the exhilarating fun and lawless excitement of the album.

For a band that often got lost in a hippie haze, this all-business approach pays off great dividends: it's easy to hear how the Robinsons are ideal collaborators, tempering each other's excesses and accentuating their shared love for the best of classic rock.

Letter to Yu's thoughtful sincerity seems far removed from the biting sarcasm of Pupul's acclaimed work with Charlotte Adigéry, but it's just as emotionally potent and artistically creative.

This is a return to the epic 12-minute suites of releases like Truant and Rival Dealer, flashing back to some of the same samples and themes. Second side "Boy Sent from Above" is the more soul-searching of the two, with lonely vocals calling out from the fog of vinyl crackle and spray can shaking.

Whether it's the caressing connectedness of "Evening Mood" or the air of pensive devotion on "Who Brings Me," this emotional immediacy makes Something in the Room She Moves an exciting and affecting addition to Holter's body of work.

Gary Clark Jr.'s catalog shows he has the talent, intelligence, and vision to make a grand scale musical statement out of any style he chooses, and JPEG RAW only reinforces that notion; he's been creating some of the boldest and most interesting guitar-based music of his time, and this is as exciting and rewarding as anyone could hope.

Akoma represents another impressive step in Jlin's remarkable evolution as an artist.

When the final piano twinkles of the heartbreaking ballad "Última" close the first half, the album shifts to mixtape mode with the flood of additional hits that pack the back end, making Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran a great two-for-one set that is essentially a short new album and a de facto "Greatest Hits 2022-2024."

The eponymous 2024 debut album from South African singer Tyla showcases her vibrant pop, R&B, Afrobeat, and rhythmic amapiano dance style.

This is an essential entry in Coltrane's catalog and a remarkable kick-off to Impulse's "Year of Alice."

While arguably Sam Evian's strongest set of songs yet, he's nothing if not consistent, and Plunge sits well alongside project debut Premium (2016) while at the same time offering something a little "more so" thanks to a live-in-studio recording philosophy that shunned headphones and playback and kept overdubs to a minimum.

While it won’t be able to please everyone, that’s not the point: this is an intensely personal statement about reclamation, belonging, and legacy, celebrating the past with hopes of changing the future. One can only hope Act III finds Bey going full rock.

Maybe Chastity Belt aren't always laughing and loving on this album, but the music is alive and eloquent, and this is a welcome return from an interesting, consistently rewarding quartet.

The amount of courage and skill on display is massive and apart from a few times where he falls off the high wire -- mainly when the balance tips too far to the inward-looking lyrically or he strays too close to played out trap territory -- this reboot just might win the band some new fans, while shedding none who have stayed the course thus far.

The vibe is familiar but the sound is fresh and, better still, Evolution isn't ponderous: it's brisk and bright, keeping its focus squarely on the gifts that brought Crow into the Rock Hall.

If this isn't Shook's best album to date, it's very close.

Moves in the Field is more Philip Glass than John Cage (in fact, Glass' longtime engineer Dan Bora recorded and mixed the album), with Moran's thoughtful writing and restrained use of what could have been show-stopping technology creating an insulated world of understated, wintery elegance.