Pile arrives comparatively light on melodrama, brimming with live fast/die young missives instead, anthems of restless spirits who drink love and life from the same red plastic cup.

By effortlessly topping her own best work. Lemonade now sets a new standard for cross-genre collaboration.

Third album Down in Heaven moves through Monkees-level cheese with the walking bassline and soaring "ba-ba-bahs" of "My Boys," while "Holding Roses" swings Rolling Stones, guitarist Clay Frankel mastering both Mick Jagger's vocal swag and Keith Richards' guitar privateering.

Rough going at 75 minutes, but it's as pure an expression of Merzbow's vision as the first half is of Boris'.

Time signatures change gears with neck-snapping regularity, underpinned by Cronin's Krautrock bass, and a Devo-esque "concept" involves Segall as a masked, Booji Boy-ish character named Sloppo.

Cosmic and eerie, the disc pays ample homage to the influences from whom IV swipes its title.

Across a decade and eight LPs, Brooklyn fivepiece Woods have perfected a lo-fi folk prone to spastic jam breakdowns. Ninth offering City Sun Eater in the River of Light now shatters any preconceived notions.

Constructed of parts from Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound, Comets on Fire, and Howlin Rain, the eponymous San Francisco quartet drowns ethereal folk melodies in a cauldron of distortion and feedback.

Freaks of Nurture captures Holy Wave as it takes a step toward greatness.

Moderating the spellbinding verbosity that saturated previous high-water marks like "Ducking & Dodging" from 2014's Sunbathing Animal gives this latest batch more space to develop and marinate.

Lovers and Leavers pays off its predecessor's bar tab by shucking off all but the sonic essentials, not naked so much as modest.

Textured, ornate, and somehow seeping into the deepest parts of you. Notch it as the best Explosions in the Sky album since their previous high-water mark, 2003's The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place.

Kendrick Lamar does an impeccable job of wrapping up the entire Butterfly process in a tidy bow.

White Denim realizes a sound truly its own on Stiff, shaking off whatever nerves that may have lingered after significant lineup change.

A continuation of the warm folk, fiddle, and banjo style of 2013's Gone Away Backward, here Fulks continues proving he's one of music's best song craftsmen.

The members' varied stylistic interests mean the music avoids homogeneity while staying true to a collective purpose.

Backed by a full band, there are flourishes of rock and even reggae, but Azel stirs up another desert blues masterpiece.

Parker Millsap's sophomore LP kicks off raw and raucous, "Hades Pleads" chugging a howling blues that immediately showcases the 23-year-old's growth from his eponymous 2014 debut. The Oklahoma songwriter's eclectic roots reach likewise stretches impressively.

Despite the messiness of searching for their sound, they balance modern psych and glam rock with obvious pride.

Whether a rocker ("Dark Energy"), ballad ("Birds of Paradise"), or combo ("Deeply Ordered Chaos"), the Cult compels with unrelieved tension, not bluster.

Gates stands out amongst his peers through his ability to write fully realized songs, versus the normalized attempts to ride waves the production presents.

Free of the confines of the band that made her famous, Friedberger flourishes.

If Lissie's still searching for her best expression, My Wild West comes closer than before.

Distilling others' heartaches ("Always on My Mind") comes Full Circle.

There's effortless, unhurried groove as he slides from the disarming grit of Nineties hip-hop in "Without You" to Sixties soul on "The Bird" and honey-dripped R&B with "Am I Wrong."

The repetitiveness of Pool tires itself out by track 12, but there's an art to flawless cohesion.

The MC locates and provides new polish on the lost sex-positivity found in yesteryear.

Guerilla Toss summons skull-rattling intrigue by crossing maker lab art-punk with distressed basslines and salvage-yard funk percussion.