A careful listen reveals he's not shy about constructing a pousse café of six-string textures, but he's smart enough to know when to reign himself in, and most of the time Three Bells sound admirably open and dynamic, leaving just enough daylight between the overdubs to allow each to have some personality of its own.

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 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.

People Who Aren't There Anymore is another refinement rather than a reinvention or bold step forward. It feels slightly less glossy than some of their other 4AD releases, coming a little closer to the lo-fi textures of earlier albums, but from the perspective of artists who have been working hard for nearly two decades.

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.

Fans may be relieved to learn that while Broom did ratchet up the intensity of their sound a notch in the studio, together they keep things raw, frank, fun, and friskily psychedelic on the resulting The Joy of Sects.

With a sharp ear for hooks, quirky phrasing tendencies, and visceral, spontaneous-sounding accompaniment, ultimately making Melt the Honey play out something like a guilty pleasure.

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.

With a little editing, Insano could have been one of Kid Cudi's strongest releases to date. Instead, listeners are given an uneven playlist of great highs and should-have-been B-sides that, in the very least, deliver the expected vocal melodics, haunting vibes, tongue-twisting bars, and "tortured" emotions that Cudi has mastered over the years.

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.

Saviors sounds cleaner, stronger, and purposeful, all due to the still-sharp pop instincts of Bille Joe Armstrong. Age may dampen Green Day's roar, but it has also heightened their songcraft, and that's reason enough to give Saviors time to let its hooks sink in.

Russell's story would be compelling enough on its own, but she also happens to be an engaging and unpredictable artist able to translate her vision effectively. The Returner is a very confident second record.

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

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

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.

On Orquídeas, Uchis remains true to herself by restlessly expanding her music's stylistic reach, embracing the past as instructor to the present. It is as aesthetically appealing as it is musically adventurous.

It sees her collaborate with German producer DJ Koze on a measured and balanced collection that takes in deep house, art pop, disco, and soul.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

Not every track on Welcome 2 Collegrove is essential, and the quality gets spottier in the final quarter, but the album stays consistently fun if not entirely engaging.

What makes I/O unique, even special, is that the process of searching isn't central to the finished product. There's no restlessness here, only acceptance, a quality that gives I/O a quiet power that can't help but build over time.

Voir Dire pushes the bounds of both Alchemist's old school warmth and Earl's heady verses, landing someplace new that neither would have gotten to on their own.