Music for Listening to Music To is also subject to some of La Sera’s usual pitfalls, and ultimately is a bit lacking in variety. Yet as the band digs deeper into the foundation of their sound, this album points to them finding more gold in the future. In every sense, this is a smart, confident step forward for La Sera.

Sunflower Bean have all the ingredients at hand to achieve something truly spectacular. And they’re right on the precipice.

There’s a duality here, and it’s present throughout Fear of Men’s debut album, Loom.

The songs vary in each respective artist’s execution, but adhere to the label’s governing aesthetic: brash beats and sugar-blasted vocals that sound simultaneously engaged and detached from the words they pronounce.

Restorations is a band that indeed seems to believe in everything: the raw gut-punch of punk, the catharsis and euphoria of stadium rock, the necessity of looking backward and moving forward. In the hands of inferior musicians, that commitment to indulging all these beliefs would result in disaster. Here, it makes for one hell of a ride.

An album full of ugly [moments]. Ugly isn’t bad on a Godspeed record--the “wrong notes” that permeate “Fam/Famine” resonate as our inability to articulate rage--but it does result in an album that’s more bombast than beauty, which, despite the album’s themes of revolution, can make for an especially dissonant listen.

Though it doesn’t quite reach the heights of his first two, his new album, Stay Dangerous, is another solid project from one of the best on the West Coast.

Much like Speedy Ortiz, Melkbelly have the good taste and even better talent to make the familiar sound fresh and fearsome.

It’s hard not to wish Never were the way she was would stretch further and reach out to the horizon the way each musician’s solo albums have. But much like a masterfully rendered novella, Stetson and Neufeld leave you wanting more.

At its strongest, Ultra Mono offers a fresh set of urgent rallying cries for anyone interested in furthering workers’ rights, dismantling systemic racism, and knocking out a few Nazi teeth. The record’s missteps mostly come when Talbot finds himself on the defensive, a position that finds him turning out poison-pen responses to critics that probably felt better to sing than they do to hear.

There’s a powerful cohesion to the collection that makes it feel greater than the sum of its parts, with several standout fusions of singing and instrumentation/production as only Lopatin could yield.

Die On Stage is like a cold beer and a bag of chips: It’s not the healthiest meal, but it sure goes down easy.

Whereas Sleeper was Segall at his most melancholy, Mr. Face takes its musical ideas and gives them bite and vigor.

Earle further proves that taking the straight and narrow and settling down can reap the most rewards.

The Innocents is earthy melodrama for catacombs that deserves to be heard above ground. Weyes Blood’s gothic, magical realm has a dozen more doors to be opened on her sophomore LP. It’s just a matter of when the record ends up in your hands.

On Everybody Works, Duterte’s timid, but not terrified. Like any sophomore album, it constitutes a bit of a departure, but at this juncture, she has every right to experiment.

They might be the indie rock band everyone imitates in five years. You’re Better Than This is a yearning fulfilled.

Screen Violence contains cathartic moments, anthems in the dark, and they approach them with tact and enthusiasm.

McMahon’s a constantly improving songwriter, and with Love, he’s created his most fully realized and purposeful batch of songs yet.

A more focused sonic direction would have been more potent and a more adventurous one would have been more exciting. Still, every track delivers a bruising and it’s hard to imagine anyone interested in the group being disappointed by the album.

Thee Oh Sees control the listener’s heartbeat with daft indifference and total control simultaneously. An Odd Entrances shows the band knows how to do so with the fragmented release of a two-part album, too.

He explores the mundanities of the real world in his angelic voice, giving them a startling beauty and pouring them out in little spiked Dixie cups.

McCartney III will likely go down as one more intriguing artifact from this deeply strange year: an above-average quarantine album from one of the highest-profile artists yet to share their lockdown material. Left alone with his thoughts like the rest of the world, Paul McCartney turned solitude into something unifying. The end result has its flaws, but the sentiment certainly doesn’t.

Atomic succeeds because of the band’s willingness to dive into their muse and experiment. It’s why they’ve achieved such high status in the sub-genre. By taking on a subject larger than themselves, Mogwai are able to lose their identity in telling such a tragic story.

While a handful of tracks (around the belly) don’t live up to their legend, hearing Homegrown after all these years rates as a fine gift for Young to leave to his legions of fans … and, hell, humanity.

Return of the Dream Canteen is a pretty faithful second helping of Red Hot Chili Peppers as they stand in 2022. ... It’s hard not to wonder what kind of splash the album could have made had it been pared down or if there was more time between the two releases. As it stands now, though, Return of the Dream Canteen still manages to add more than it takes away.

4Real 4Real carries some of the most introspective writing from YG to date.

Many of the album’s finer moments come in the slower, more abstract compositions.

Twenty years in, Dido knows what she’s good at, even as she’s learned some new tricks. She makes these influences seem perfectly natural and has stretched herself without sounding frayed.

Rather than reference the work they’ve made before, each project takes on a completely new form. Fever 121614 is no different, as Deerhoof harness their previous material, turn it on its anxious head, and perform it in a way that allows fresh life to creep in.

Shura is at the center of this album, and though the results aren’t always revelatory, she herself remains hugely engaging.

For an outfit who’s claimed groove-rock for two decades, it’s a relief to hear what they sound like with a beat you can dance to. Now let’s see them keep it going.

Each of its eight tracks--most of them gems from punk stalwarts such as Against Me! and Smoking Popes--use solo-Kinsella’s musical tricks to convert aggression into snow-sprinkled majesty, revealing a tenderness and surreal imagery that weren’t as apparent in the original versions.

There’s a sense of positivity throughout that recalls the lighter works of contemporaries like CFCF or early Baths. Utilizing that warmth, Gold Panda is able to master restraint and thoughtfulness.

Aero Flynn is an engrossing artistic statement born out of tumultuous circumstances. This one mesmerizing piece is worth savoring all on its own.

Like last year’s Electric Balloon, Infinite House bristles with different impulses, though many of them feel braver and larger than before.

She is mourning and healing all at once here, and while at times it can feel a bit tedious, overall she’s delivered one solid collection of songs.

Platform is continuously emotive, although it never quite tops the peak of “Chorus”.

Morning/Evening is 40 minutes of vivid, dreamy, culturally challenging work that reflects not only on the comforts of family, but the cleansing nature of greeting the day and sending it off.

Planet Her maintains the versatility that Doja’s Hot Pink performances hinted at, but it all hinges on her knack for a singalong chorus, and fits cohesively in our ever-diversifying pop landscape. The result, while not terribly profound, is an album full of bulletproof bops, with the help of some well-chosen star collaborators.

Despite its sometimes grating protagonist, ye is a pleasant enough way to pass half an hour. Seven tracks is long enough to develop an idea without wearing it out. The production is typically lush. Kanye has returned to the kinds of soul samples that made him famous to begin with.

The energy of that debut track [“Basement Queens”] carries over into Slugger, which weaves catchy pop synthesizers around stylized guitar effects and melodic choruses.

There are no jitters or missteps on On Your Own Love Again; it’s an album of puzzle-piece precision.

Songs often exist to structure a moment of reflection, to set reality into a structure to breathe for a moment; noise, on the other hand, often embodies the lack of breath. That’s rarely as true as it is with the latest from Margaret Chardiet’s Pharmakon, Bestial Burden.

It is a pleasure definitively for the listener, and from all reports for the musicians as well.

Palomo has managed to group everything that catches his eye under one disco ball-laden roof, but Night School rarely feels overstuffed. It stays playful and casual, and its stakes often feel low as a result.

The album is vivid between shadows, pulsing with the diseased blood of a body slowly losing its motivation to carry on. Had Power pushed himself to soundtrack this deconstruction through the minimalist nature of his quiet work, though, Dumb Flesh could have been fully realized.

He’s always been a reliably ferocious street rapper. DWMTM establishes him as that and something else: an artist with the ambition to go big and the finesse to stick his landing.

The 12-song project is the Brooklyn native’s most well-rounded release to date.

She makes the listener feel close to her time and time again throughout the album, from the blinding light of guitar-led anthems like “Lottery” and “I Get No Joy” to the pure fun of “Going Gone” and the almost terrifying gravity and proximity of “If I Die”. It’s this vulnerability that makes her approach feels so real, and that demands that we attend to her music and take something real away from it.

Dessner’s skill lies in sustaining this hazy, gray feeling without letting the songs sound drab. Hannigan radiates enough joy--even in the darkest moments--to keep the affair from being a downer.

While longtime Dylan students will discover much to enjoy and ponder on Travelin’ Thru, casual observers should have no trouble resisting these abandoned experiments. Still, it’s enticing extra-credit listening for those who care.

Throughout ROADRUNNER…, their psychedelic-saturated groupthink frequently coheres into daring and undeniably moving work, smoothing over the rough spots and small stumbles.

The lush sonics of The King of Whys are a far cry from the lo-fi stylings of his 2001 full-length debut, but they seem a natural fit; Kinsella’s warm fingerpicking has always had a way of filling space and creating even more of it, and the added instrumentation fills those gaps with an atmosphere appropriate for each composition.

If II proves anything, it’s that Fuzz remains a force to be reckoned with. Segall and co. have only honed their chops in the years since their debut, and it’s almost terrifying to project what will come in the next stage of their evolution.

On their second studio effort, they step out of the shadow of their influences, carving a sound of their own. Where they go from here is anyone’s guess.

It’s an exploration of a day in the life of a 30-year-old with an infectious punk rock soundtrack.

Born in the Echoes is a pretty spry record for a few old pros, but the Brothers save their most arresting moment for last.

Now a certified pop vet, La Roux returns with a work that translates the hard-earned lessons of the past decade into another collection of radio-ready dance-pop whose best tracks manage to sound timeless and topical at the same time. It’s an eminently listenable album, and her best shot in years at recapturing some of those triumphs for herself.

What it might lack in sonic adventurousness the record more than makes up for with resounding heart, and Sukierae stays afloat with those moments where the singer is working at or damn near close to his full potential.

A slight lack of focus, and an ending that’s more of a whimper than a bang, detract from an otherwise impressive major label debut.

Sheer Mag is a band that’s unafraid to feel, whether it’s desperation, rage, or overwhelming love. Over the course of an urgent debut, they let their guard down and embrace their emotions, showing the rest of us that we could all afford to as well.

While Ordinary Man doesn’t stack up against early Ozzy classics like Blizzard of Ozz and Diary of a Madman, it is a step up from recent LPs like Black Rain and Scream. There’s strong songwriting, both musically and lyrically, with a handful of infectious choruses throughout the album.

From the incendiary solos of “Word to the Wise” to the evocatively personal/universal lyrics (“The throne of maladies/ It’s right in front of me/ Your malignancy”), Emperor of Sand proves cathartic for the listener and, hopefully, for the band members as well.

By doubling down on their brand of frenzied political aggression, they show how consistency can co-exist with growth.

One of Eagle’s more consistently engaging outings, this elegy for the since-demolished Robert Taylor Homes projects the 36-year-old rapper grew up in isn’t necessarily one of his most ear-catching records. More than his other albums, it’s consumed with his thoughts, possibly even a bit smothered; it cries out for some showing to break up all the telling.

The ability to successfully engage with a number of different styles and tones, pen lyrics that are both incredibly vulnerable and smartly robust, and frame it all within their own unique zeal makes Hate for Sale a worthy and welcome addition into the band’s historic discography.

This is the record where the Females escape the punk shadow that’s long threatened to typecast them.

The stark, stoic songwriting coursing through Pressure Machine tells a much more layered story however, and by the time that same train can be heard approaching in the album’s final coda, it’s up to the listener to decide whether it’s a harbinger of impending doom or an altogether different way of finding your way out of life in a forgotten town.

Not to Disappear builds on many of the same themes that dominated 2013’s If You Leave, but with an added layer of universality.

My Krazy Life dampens many of its heavy questions with refreshing musical forms.

Lipa’s music, when it’s at its best, can be as interesting as it is fun; so while Radical Optimism might not be quite as radical as one might have hoped, Lipa’s story is far from over. She’s ready to soak up the sun and dance, and the path is laid for us to join her, if we so choose.

They have the playfulness of the Elephant 6 collective, but they’ve dumped their coy tunings in favor of proto-metal guitars and jangly layers, creating a sound all their own.

Once again, Gorillaz’s ability to infuse their immaculately polished and idiosyncratic production with the wide-ranging talents of their guests is commendable, too, ensuring that their work remains charmingly singular by default. Sure, its lesser moments are expectedly artificial and monotonous — that, too, knowingly comes with the territory — but there’s more good than bad here, and most Gorillaz devotees will surely adore it.

Upside Down Mountain shows that quality songcraft is still alive in Conor Oberst, and it is just a little bit of plastic surgery away from being relevant again.

This is a no-frills type of record that prizes style over substance.

With Favorite Waitress, The Felice Brothers have elevated their songwriting without losing their rambunctious charm.

There’s very little relief from heartache on The L-Shaped Man, but it’s such an emotionally naked record that its bleakness is oddly invigorating.

Their thorny noise pit might occlude itself to many listeners--it’s not pretty, and it’s not for everyone. Those who recognize themselves in the havoc, though, will find themselves nesting there for a long while to come.

So Much Fun succeeds in its quest to highlight the success of Young Thug; almost all of the 19 tracks could stand alone as a strong demonstration of what Thug does best, but they also work together to create a cohesive project.

The album’s best songs are those that more readily acknowledge life’s small tragedies.

It might not be the same magic, but something magical is coursing through Shiny and Oh So Bright, Vol. 1., hinting at a future we can all embrace--especially Corgan.

The resulting album feels like a genuine, cohesive artistic statement, one that often improves upon its source material rather than just paying bland tribute.

Calling Out cements EZTV in a long lineage of sad-sack pop rockers and does so with ease.

25 doesn’t necessarily meet the fire of its predecessor, but it meets its mark--a whole different undertaking when tasked from the top.

It’s much easier to think of Singer’s Grave a Sea of Tongues as Oldham highlighting the many facets of his songs, breathing new life into them and showing his versatility, rather than purely recycling them.

Even if there are some places where Queen of Me falls a bit flat, her legacy speaks for itself. The twelve tracks in this album encompass her first full release since 2017, and, if nothing else, it feels wonderful to still have Shania’s distinct voice and genuinely unique perspective in our lives.

Wanderer is neither as harrowing as Moon Pix nor as kaleidoscopic as Sun, but it shows a mature artist who rides the waves of tumultuous experience--no less excellent for containing her multitudes.

Wonderful Wonderful is likely the most self-conscious Killers album ever.

Those looking to understand the evolution of electronica across the pond will find that Barbara Barbara, we face a shining future will welcome them in nearly as much as Underworld’s debut LP.

In U2 terms,That’s the Spirit was BMTH’s Achtung Baby, where they introduced a new sound, and amo is their Zooropa, where they’ve taken that sonic evolution one step further.

Commonwealth could be Sloan’s own take on The White Album, but it feels more like their answer to Abbey Road.

Spider Bags just want to have a good time and play rock ‘n’ roll, and that lightheartedness makes Frozen Letter a standout release among the crowded garage rock market. It just may be the band’s finest material yet.

The songs on Boronia are sweet, both in message and sound, a musical snack shack on the outskirts of the sand.

Building a cohesive album from such eclectic source material is no easy task, but Calexico, drawing on the 25-year partnership between Burns and multi-instrumentalist John Convertino, put on a clinic.

Preoccupations does away with the murkiness, sounding remarkably clear in contrast to its predecessor.

Junun should be approached with a willingness to embrace new ideas. Greenwood is clearly the big audience draw here, but even fans of his solo compositions may feel a little lost. But, someone with an eager ear will find beauty in this blend of cultures and styles.

Drunk is what we’ve come to expect from Thundercat, which is to say it’s a welcome release. On his third album, he embraces his sound, stereotypes and all, so that teenage humor lights up otherwise overly-heady bass.