Even without backstories, the songs speak for themselves. Michael plays keyboards and wields his clarion tenor like a flaming sword. Tanya’s voice is sinuous and muscular, with a raw edge that was wrapped in layers of reverb on her earlier work but now packs an invigorating punch as she tears through high notes.

With 14 tracks clocking in at around 30 minutes, the album is a remarkably fast listen given the amount of detail packed into each song. Mitski is generally successful at wrapping big ideas into impactful vignettes, although there are some points that move so fast they feel inconsequential.

With both her words and music, Shires isn’t holding herself back on To the Sunset, and though the left turns might take some getting used to for old fans, her growing conviction in herself as a songwriter and frontwoman is enough reason to stick around.

Full of feel-good, sonically textured Americana jams about peace and love, Nash’s latest batch of songs make for a satisfying, if somewhat one-note, late addition to your summer vibes playlist.

The wisdom she imparts across the songs that follow is profound in its simplicity, but it still needs to be heard: McKenna’s omniscient narrators are simultaneously understanding toward their subjects and interrogating toward themselves, a generosity of spirit that, when paired with Cobb’s thoughtful, subtle arrangements, is a quiet yet welcome tonic to the current landscape.

Punch Brothers have crafted a deeply meaningful and downright gorgeous record that takes the world for what it is, but doesn’t use that as an excuse to give up.

“Dirty Projectors” struggled toward hope, but Lamp-Lit Prose has found it, and at its end it opens toward new possibilities.

How much Gorillaz fans enjoy The Now Now will depend on why they became fans in the first place. Anyone captivated by Hewlett’s world-building will probably feel a little let down, as will those who fell for their eclectic, big-tent approach to pop. That leaves the Damon Albarn diehards.

The songs on “High as Hope” don’t have as much youthful urgency of past anthems, but Welch’s thoughtful words and the raw power of her melodies keep the songs compelling. The lush production by Emile Haynie (Lana Del Rey) and Welch herself (her first production credit) bolster each song with sweeping atmosphere.

Lloyd complements Williams’s plaintive growl with his own tenor saxophone cries, in some cases the obbligatos becoming an ongoing commentary. ... “Blues for Langston and LaRue” shows off Lloyd’s buoyant flute work. The Lloyd/Frisell duet on Thelonious Monk’s “Monk’s Mood” is capacious and endearing. And the album closer, Jim Hendrix’s “Angel”--with just the trio of Williams, Frisell, and Lloyd--is a spare and apt benediction, dispelling darkness with the faith of art.

Production-wise, the album sounds amazing, every multilayered arrangement and synth tone calibrated for maximum headphone-listening pleasure. ... Reznor is still making records that crackle with restless energy.

This album offers a 12-song slice of unpretentious, lovely Americana. Her songs didn’t vie for my attention or seize it; instead, I felt like I was settling into their embrace, unrushed. My heart rate slowed. Erin Rae’s lyrics are wistful and sometimes personal.

Songcraft is a problem throughout the album’s 12 bloated tracks, but the fact that they’re long isn’t the issue--Marr can, and has, held our attention before. It’s more that they lack conviction and structure.

Jordan exudes a level of confidence that’s all her own, never once flinching at the opportunity to reveal her feelings and insecurities, and it’s her insight and level-headedness that take her music beyond catchy earworms.

Over seven songs spanning 24 minutes, “Ye” is immediately disturbing (“I Thought About Killing You”), slightly exhilarating (“Yikes”), bafflingly underwhelming (“All Mine,” “Wouldn’t Leave,” and “No Mistakes”), and fleetingly brilliant (“Ghost Town”). The one thing it’s not is coherent.

Nearly every song on the new Courtney Barnett album has something to recommend it--a familiar melody that takes distinctive turns, a lyric that grows deeper with each listening, strong backup from a band led by Barnett’s rough-hewn guitar riffs.

It takes a few listens for this space oddity to come into focus, but Tranquility Base gradually proves itself a rather daring reinvention. It’s poetic and expansive, subdued yet spellbinding--altogether, one giant leap for Monkey-kind.

The sound and the playing are crisp and lean, with sharp lines drawn between the guitar, bass, keyboard, and drums in a way that keeps them distinct. It also sometimes keeps them frustratingly distanced from one another, as the otherwise pleasantly groovy “Red Light Kisses” and “Baby Don’t Leave Me Alone With My Thoughts” echo the coolly dispassionate jazz-funk lite of the ’70s and ’80s.

The headiness doesn’t always work to Dupuis’s advantage; for every song on Twerp Verse that gets its point across with fresh, memorable language, there’s one where cutting through the thickets of wordplay feels more exhausting than enjoyable. Still, when she gets the balance just right, as she does on the creepy sexual-harassment story “Villain” and the romantic-dysfunction anthem “Backslidin’,” she’s one of indie rock’s finest lyricists.

The goodies are hidden in the deeper tracks. The Hit-Boy-produced title track starts with a vocal siren, and the singer struts through her haunting lower octave over a high-octane stomp.

The songs are bigger, the production is bolder, and Hop Along is more confident than ever, expertly weaving fresh, unexpected elements into its sound.

An album this endlessly chill might get boring in a less talented songwriter’s hands, but Musgraves never fails to draw listeners into her reverie.

The only time the Neighbourhood really comes to life here is on the disc’s final track, refreshingly summery toe-tapper “Stuck With You.” That track aside, this release will do little to convince critics that the Neighbourhood is anything more than Maroon 5’s monochromatic photo negative, and about as intriguing as that descriptor suggests.

White does pretty much everything except what fans have learned to expect from him. It’s an ambitious, dizzying, and sometimes challenging listen, but overall makes for one of the most maniacally creative albums of the year.

The Breeders have never sounded so determined to make a great record, and with All Nerve their efforts have paid off.

All at Once is an accomplished, expertly crafted album, the kind that’s the product of years slugging it out in dank basements and half-empty bars.

Another great Superchunk record. What a Time to Be Alive bristles with anxious energy; even by Superchunk’s over-caffeinated standards, it keeps an unrelenting pace.

MGMT spikes the formula with just enough outsider charm to milk an album’s worth of inspiration from the tired aesthetic. It’s not going to inspire legions of imitators à la “Oracular Spectacular,” but Little Dark Age should be both hooky and eccentric enough to please MGMT fans of all stripes.