Public Enemy’s message hits hardest when the lyrics remain open for listeners to step inside. A couple presidential putdowns are enough (no need for another “Son of a Bush”), and the small handful of times the album stumbles are when the focus narrows to micro grievances like calling out Kanye and Kim for being “a spectacle instead of spectacular” (“Yesterday Man”) or pointing out the negative effects of social media on millennials (“SOC MED Digital Heroin”).

Gomez’s return is filled with some great pop music, but falls short of what we suspect she’s capable of. She sticks to similar themes as she did on Revival, instead of exploring different sounds as she did with 2018 single “Back to You” and 2017’s “Bad Liar”.

Even though the record is layered in angst, Showalter has an inner fearlessness that has allowed him to take accountability for his actions. While Hard Love isn’t a clear solution for Showalter’s problems, it’s definitely a step in the right direction.

In Roses lets him further elaborate his delicate elegies, but his songs tend to live best when he grows them himself from start to finish.

With a bit more focus, Humanz could have been an essential part of Gorillaz’s narrative. Instead, it’s a scatterbrained frenzy of emotion--which is what’s to be expected of anything immersing itself in the chaotic, logic-free nonsense of the world post-election.

The love songs on this record are nothing to shrug off, but Heems is at his best when he’s politically charged. His messages are so strong that it seems strange to dilute them with pop songs.

It’s as good a rock record as The Black Keys have in them in 2019, and odds are that will satisfy most fans.

OK Human lands as a surprisingly charming collection of pop tunes whose imperfections add to rather than detract from the experience.

There isn’t anything here that you haven’t heard previously on Oceania (“Run2Me”), either Machina LP (“Dorian”), or Adore (“Being Beige”). That isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

It’s a sonic exercise that’s daunting, exciting, and at other times frustrating. But it’s never boring, and when so much music sticks to the script, Disappears still thrill by coloring far outside the lines.

While Justice avoided breaking new ground with Woman, the 10 tracks still manage to remind us why we fell in love with them in the first place.

It takes patient listening to uncover Marigolden’s subtlety, and with few exceptions, the album isn’t immediately accessible, which is a shame, because Porterfield’s lyricism offers quite a few clever and compelling gems.

21 Savage’s ability to express a variety of feelings allows the music to stand out at times and become more than a generic gangsta rap presentation. It’s unfortunate, then, that the record finds itself held back by unfeeling and monotonous takes on issues like gun violence. Overall, i am > i was is a mixed bag of experience that offers enough solid tracks to keep fans latched on.

Throughout, Lewis’ voice rarely leaves mid-range tremolo and drags a sense of gravitas along the ground. All that said, Lewis still has his hits.

An ugliness fringes Lee’s delivery, and it’s what keeps Money’s music from dipping into the saccharine.

Whether all of these tracks add up to a cohesive statement is debatable, and it’s a shame that the album drops off so noticeably after such a promising start. But the good news is that Way has produced something infinitely more interesting than whatever the next My Chemical Romance rock opera might have been.

This is not an easy album to listen to, and it takes a certain state of mind to casually consume it. The Body wear their darkness proudly, curmudgeony noisemakers to the core, and Full of Hell define brutal. It was inevitable that their album would come out as a disasterpiece in the best way.

The Neon delivers mostly carefree synth-pop comfort food calibrated to appeal more to our feet and our hearts than our already overtaxed brains. The record is certain to thrill devotees and potentially catch the ear of an unsuspecting Release Radar listener or two; whether we’ll still need it once these current hard times end remains to be seen.

Egypt Station is a minor entry in a major catalog, a Paul McCartney record for people who like Paul McCartney records.

Though “experimental” may be a bit of an overstatement, the best parts of Delta prove that, in the hands of the right producer, Mumford & Sons remain capable of recording radio-ready earworms that challenge expectations (a little, at least) while still retaining the major qualities that made them superstars in the first place.

Will it be your favorite Primal Scream record? Probably not, but it’s a good record with a couple of killer jams--so roll a little face for old time’s sake.

It’s exciting sonically, but deeply familiar. The emotions and sentiments cut harder than before. Though inconsistent, Smith both strikes harder and keeps his audience guessing more than ever before.

The two halves feel out of balance here. Had they been more equally matched, In My Mind could’ve reached another stratosphere.

In large part, the songs on Nevermen come across exactly as that: songs, specifically made in a studio by a group of individually talented musicians.

While first single “Believe” seems to mimic the worst qualities of a Coldplay deep cut, the album’s remaining 11 tracks adhere more to The National’s tightly wound brooding, and with good reason.

On No Coast, Braid let themselves grow independently of trends of music, and that will be their saving grace, even if it does mean they’ve sanded down and hidden the rough spots that distinguish us all as humans.

The key to the album is contradiction, between the vocals and instrumentation, between the lack of expression and the outpouring of emotion. These contradictions make True Love Kills the Fairy Tale a chemical concoction that listeners, like The Casket Girls, will want to get strung out on.

While it may not be her strongest album, it’s an interesting new direction.

Like the trauma that plagues him, however, the record is deflated slightly by songs one might be inclined to forget. Son Little’s latest is otherwise abundant with magic. Had he left a few of his weaker tracks in the woodshed, he might have realized the balance necessary to sustain it.

It’s yet another deep, personal, reflective album that’ll impress listeners but, in this instance, leave them only partially satisfied.

For these 11 tracks, trip-hop’s habit for overcooked sad bastard balladry is traded for such succinct fluidity in songwriting that the moments where the album betrays its “debut” description are few and far between.

Lil Yachty the pop star shines on Teenage Emotions, and the wide range of styles with which he delivers his message of youthful exuberance shows a growing artist. ... Filler tracks such as “Dirty Mouth” and “Moments in Time” derail the parade of energy Teenage Emotions delivers, leaving the record with too many skip-worthy moments.

Taylor creates an unapologetic record of late-night slow jams that stem from a more mature, experienced perspective. ... The forwardness [in “3way”] is welcome, but the angle Taylor takes is questionable.

On American Tragic, Fortune rises up to squeeze every last drop of drama from her misery.

There are moments in its middle that blend together, like experiments that weren’t properly executed. That said, with the fantastic and intricate highs of this album, Irglová has proven herself as a solo artist.

Crab Day marks a considerable step forward, appealing to existing fans while also announcing a huge period of growth.

On the whole, though, Yoshimio and OOIOO honor that infinite and elusive history on Gamel without ever losing their own present.

By orchestrating an album meant to embody the difficult experience of the advantaged world talking about the atrocities that surround us, the majority of the project lacks a clear stance beyond what has been readily called “poverty tourism.”

The chops have been there from day one. It’s just that this time out, the songs are worth hanging around for a bit more.

When the record does stumble, it’s because he’s trying to juggle too many ideas at one time as opposed to a lack of effort. Mostly, City Music succeeds at displaying Morby’s strength as a rocker, and along with Singing Saw, the two together paint him as an artist truly coming into his own.

Nephew in the Wild isn’t Ashworth’s most consistent or tightest album, but it shows an ambitious songwriter with a plethora of ideas and a new confidence.

While it would be interesting to hear the album with sharper production and a little more focus, that would ultimately be its very end. This one thrives on the fringe.

While These Days... does linger a bit too long in the depths of intoxication, it’s difficult to write this off as anything less than a solid indie release.

Fair has always had a tendency to get too cute in his lyrics, but there’s a contagious positivity to Perfect, even if it’s often oversimplistic.

It’s a late-career entry that can’t hold up to his priceless back catalog, but it’s also the work of a guy who at this point really couldn’t give a shit what people think. You’ll enjoy some tracks and soldier through others. But Iggy’s still here, and maybe that’s the most important takeaway of all.

Sea When Absent, too, is full of bliss, even if it’s too often sabotaged by an excess of ideas scattered on the page without room to breathe.

Monotony in music can be boring, but it can also be comforting. That’s why Whirr works. Those warm swirls are medicinal.

The record flows nicely and rewards uninterrupted listening. Floor’s triumphant sludge metal has never sounded so refined.

If he’s figuring out from scratch how to be a compelling artist again, Eminem’s improved the caliber of his beats and guests, taking stands against the right day-to-day injustices, toning down the tasteless (with the exception of the already-infamous Ariana line, of course), and rapping with the manic precision of someone who just snorted a whole sandcastle of cocaine and Vyvanse. If only a single minute of it was as hilarious or bracing as Chris D’Elia’s impression of him.

Some of the songs’ differences are sanded down, all glossed together in ultra-professional production.

It would have been fascinating to see the band take a drastic turn and lean into experimentation, but instead they’ve returned with a relatively underwhelming fifth album.

On their second album, This Is All Yours, they compensate for their own quirks by granting access points both for the radio-only audience and for the Internet music fans.

It’s rare for an album with so many stunning moments to suddenly become so aggressively mediocre. Still, the highs of Sweetener outweigh the lows. But with such lofty highs, it’s hard to be content with the album that is and not think about what the album might have been.

The emotion is there, as ever, but the production sound doesn’t pull equal weight in distinguishing Smith’s work from other mainstream pop artists.

In interviews, Timony has said that she wanted to make “relaxed and fun” music, and in that regard Rips hits the mark.

Sky Blue isn’t the Van Zandt record that’ll turn new fans on to his genius. It’s the type of compilation that’ll help his longtime listeners better understand the many shades of that talent.

Awake is a compelling gallery of electronic minimalism whose emotional depth requires a rich listen and zero passes.

Underneath the Rainbow clocks in at 12 tracks, unlike Arabia Mountain’s punishing 16. Leaner does mean meaner, and with the Black lips, mean is best.

It will still be an acquired taste; not everyone feels in rapid fire triplets and fist pounding choruses, and some of it may play too heavily on nostalgia for those who grew up on records like these. But Diarrhea Planet draw from those familiar sounds and feelings to create something new and self-aware.

Until the Horror Goes could probably use a little more of this resignation.

They do a serviceable job in a handful of styles, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. Methyl Ethel could be your next favorite band, but they just have to pick what band that will be.

Though Product is billed as a singles collection, its sequencing matters like an album; the track’s placement lets it bow under the weight of all the bizarre moments that precede it, leaving gashes too deep for it to be as treacly and plasticine as its title might suggest.

No matter how off-kilter, the sense of personality on this record transcends the tired “slacker” Pavement-core tags often slapped on the band. That alone makes it a step forward.

As a whole, the album may not be impeccable, but it’s the best he’s released since 2010.

Much of what makes Touché Amoré a success remains intact: the band jamming away behind Bolm, supporting and expanding his “slam poetry.” But, oh what wonderful poetry it has become, as Bolm dives into the depths of his cortex as he comes to terms with the death of his mother in 2014.

With tighter editing, Rest could have soared, but perhaps the personal nature of the songs made those ruthless cuts impossible. Even so, there are many individual moments to treasure. Charlotte Gainsbourg has evolved as an artist, and Rest is a flawed but worthy statement.

Lindberg’s range helps the record from feeling too stale. At times, she relies too much on repetition, causing some tracks to feel too familiar to stand out. But, when she shuffles the pieces of her puzzle, the songs are typically the stronger for it.

Gaga has always been an emotional performer, and she does quite a bit of heavy lifting on Love for Sale, but Bennett’s vocals remain crystal clear. The album (unsurprisingly) is at its best when the two are together.

On the whole, Osborne turned a confusing detour into an interesting wrinkle and a worthwhile addition to his massive catalog.

24K Magic is his first album that works as a statement, and while it’s unclear if it will see the runaway success Mars has enjoyed in the past, the coherence and variety of the record’s sound and lack of any obvious dud point to the strides that Mars is making as a songwriter.

While this record won’t reel in many new listeners, it’s a worthy and worthwhile addition to the band’s discography, full of catchy grooves that continue to defy expectations.

Blue Chips 7000 is wholly listenable, and it’s possible to imagine longtime Bronson fans calling it a comeback even if they have trouble recalling titles. But it’s a holding action whose worst quality is that it leaves you worried about him repeating himself again.

If all the covers were as deeply felt as Caroline Says or Julien Baker’s, Say Yes would leap from a covers album to a tried and true tribute, a record that could bring an artist back to life, if only for an hour. If listeners are looking for that, well, then just listen to Elliott Smith’s originals.

Individually, almost every song is interesting. But altogether, the listening experience is a choppy mess. Out-of-context cartoon voiceovers and pan-African pop music don’t sit well together. And while some of the long-form ideas partially work, they could have used more fleshing out.

Fresh Blood loses momentum between its peaks.

The repetition of the word “mambo” over another messy beat fails to do much. There’s too much going on to really make much sense of what’s happening. Shadow quickly makes up for that with two of the most alluring tracks on the record. “Ashes To Oceans” features British jazz composer and trumpeter Matthew Halsall, providing a gorgeous contribution to the already haunting composition. On “Pitter Patter,” rain-fall piano notes permeate the track while producer Bleep Bloop and Nite School Klik associate/trap producer G Jones give it an ethereal feel.

Ultimately, The Far Field serves as a reminder of how skilled Future Islands can be when everything locks into place, and even if it never reaches the highs of Singles, it more than holds its own.

For those who love the aughts’ Lips catalog, but were thrown off by the abstract experimentation of the last few records, King’s Mouth should be a welcome return to form.

At 16 full-length tracks (there are no skits here), By Any Means makes it easy for listeners to take what they want from Gates.

Primus & the Chocolate Factory plays like one of Claypool’s many passion projects. It’s entitled to live by its own convoluted logic.

The Album showcases their signature style of blending genres and influences to create songs that are just as classically pop as they are identifiably BLACKPINK.

It tends to be so tightly metered and bound by rules of its own design that it operates like clockwork. Jaga Jazzist tread this line very well, but on Starfire, they lean too heavily on technical ambition and end up choking the life out of their own tunes.

Rather than worry about finding an answer, they’re enjoying flexing their musical skill sets, adapting them to artists who fuel their own creative energy, and bringing us along for the journey in the meantime.

After nearly a five-year wait, Japandroids could have written a record with more wind beneath its wings, but the pace of Near To The Wild Heart Of Life is consumable enough to warrant repeat listens. It just won’t be a record that saves you when you need it to.

Despite the beats shifting with real purpose, there never seems to be any destination in mind. This allows a listener to pay particularly close attention to the increasingly erratic journey.

While it isn’t without a few bumps along the way, Liberation really is a welcome return to form for one of this era’s greatest vocalists.

The resulting material is imbued with an energy and urgency severely lacking in much of the music that he has produced across the last decade and then some.

I Wasn’t Born to Lose You likely won’t replace any fan’s favorite Swervedriver album, but much like the entire shoegaze revival, it’s an organic, heartfelt piece meant for those fans as much as the musicians making it.

Waltzed in from the Rumbling is a strong effort from a band that’s been around a while, making this kind of lovely indie ­rock since it was topping the CMJ charts in the mid ­2000s. As other, bigger names wandered in the direction of disco (The Arcade Fire) or electronica (Sufjan), Plants & Animals have continued to hone their sound, and this new album is a testament to that work.

When retracing their steps to their well of alt rock tricks, Garbage will likely please plenty of longtime fans, all whilst developing new ways to clear the overgrowth on the path that’s grown since their last visit. However, much like Not Your Kind of People, they won’t win a ton of new fans here or prove that they’re trying a lot of new things.

Corgan delivers some of the lightest, most affecting songs he’s made in years. Unfortunately, comfort also breeds indulgence, which leaves Cotillions’ 37 excellent minutes of music rattling around within an unearned 61-minute runtime that winds up walking the record in circles.

Some fresh attention on Gentry’s short but blazing career with the help of Mercury Rev and their co-conspirators here is a welcome development. That notion alone helps ease the minor disappointments that this well-meaning tribute serves up and elevates the best work on Delta Sweete Revisited even higher.

As it is, Everybody Looking feels like a slight step up from Gucci’s prison mixtapes, but not the major step that a Free Gucci statement album might warrant.

The album is plenty of fun, even if its entirely unoriginal. Like a great house party, Thunderbitch is gone too quick, a little bit rowdy, and soundtracked by jams that facilitate a good time, even if they don’t demand much of your attention.

It may not be an outright classic like Source Tags & Codes, but it finds the band at their most measured yet. And, it feels important--not epic, but important.

This album is a pure nostalgia play, and it’s going to score plenty of airplay on KROQ as a bridge between that station’s modern alt-rock staples and the ‘80s groups that once served as its bread and butter.

The Mexican garage punk band led by Teri Gender Bender goes for its most straightforward sound yet on A Raw Youth. If they stumble occasionally, that’s only because of the white-knuckled grip they keep on what makes them unique.

It takes a slight adjustment to get used to their new dance direction, but it’s worth the shift.