Even as he’s celebrating the wonder of America and all its spoils, there’s an undercurrent of razor cynicism that belies the joy. That’s the fun yin and yang that makes Americana such a rich listen.

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

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.

By peeling back the layers of his persona, Ghersi breaks himself down in an attempt to find rebirth, trying to reconcile with his past and present. The result is his most daring and enthralling record yet.

Some of the songs feel too sterile and Pornos-by-numbers; others are derivative in a way the band rarely is. Overall, it would have been more successful as a five-song mini-LP than as a full-length.

The result is her most vulnerable and honest work to date.

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.

The return we have all been waiting for, and it does not disappoint. Let’s agree never to part again for so long unless the reunion promises to be just as joyous and refreshing as Automaton.

Contact just finds a way to pull it off without sounding like she’s on the verge of collapsing--which, for the sake of everyone’s well-being, is a surprisingly good meeting point. There’s just a small space left unused that finds listeners wanting more.

The album spins best when Misty is picking a fight with God or observing human nature as a screwball play, all while honoring the fact that people were given a raw deal in concept, not just execution.

The music on the record seamlessly ebbs and flows while not sounding repetitive, and Alison Goldfrapp remains one of pop’s most charismatic, if underrated, singers. In all, Silver Eye has a little bit of everything for fans of either the band’s uptempo electronic or reflective folk-ambient phases.

The Wild is a worthy addition to Raekwon’s extensive discography and should comfortably take a position near the top of most fans’ lists.

On the whole, everything proceeds much too predictably and with far too much caution and restraint.

Personality reigns, because a cursory glance at the album’s tracklist would have you believe this is an absolute clusterfuck--after all, there’s a track by Irish comedy hip-hop duo The Rubberbandits right smack in the middle. Yet such eclecticism happens to be its strong suit, and winds up embellishing the strengths of its younger selections.

Heartless continues the successes of Sorrow and Extinction and Foundations of Burden, while also incorporating familiar but tasteful sonic flourishes from adjacent genres.

For 44 minutes, Mann slips into the skin of someone walking an emotional tightrope, and it’s an act she pulls of with grace and conviction.

The singing and melodies are massaged with a care unheard in the prior Drake discography; this album flows as improbably as The Life of Pablo, with more assured lyrics and smoother sequencing, to offset the lack of a certifiable genius at the helm.

A Crow Looked at Me stands as a remarkable example of the restorative power of music, an intimate display of love, daring both in concept and execution.

Best to appreciate them for what they are: a noble effort that likely won’t have a marked impact on the world at large.

[Britt Daniel's] big statement is his Body of Work, of which every fine part adds up to a greater sum. Here comes another one.

This is a band cruising in their own lane, the road smooth as Teflon.

Semper Femina does not reach the soaring intensity and edged elation of Once I Was an Eagle, nor does it carry almost any of the freaked-out electricity that propelled Short Movie and allowed it to stand as a worthy successor to Eagle. But it is a strong, elegant, and self-assured album that, in its creative arrangements and lyrical world building, contains remarkable complexity and depth in terms of both skill and concept.

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.

Each passing cycle saps a little more life from the record, until we’re left with background music, fluff that goes in one ear and out the other. That includes the lyrics, which run the gamut from sentimental, to rote, to downright creepy.

While gentler than its predecessor, Salutations is his bulwark against the tide, a warm record that offers calm in the cacophony, comfort in the struggle, the darkness amid the hope and the hope amid the darkness.

While his most definitive project remains 2015’s Dirty Sprite 2 for its balance of Future’s innate melodic sense and especially effective trap records, HNDRXX comes in as a close second.

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.

An unprecedented two-and-a-half-hour journey into the typically guarded Merritt’s life, the album is as revealing as it is resonant.