The Laughing Apple isn’t a diluted version of the music Yusuf has been releasing over the past decade; embedded in its pop craftsmanship are new songwriting challenges, Eastern sounds, and scriptural themes that don’t mask themselves. It’s just the version that allows him to be as bold as that smiling, little apple found in the title track. And the cat doesn’t fall far from the apple.

Anti takes risks and disregards convention in a way that only a true superstar like Rihanna could pull off.

Longtime fans will know what to expect from the indie-rock band that’s been releasing records since the mid-aughts, but predictability isn’t always a fault. The Brit rockers fully understand what they excel at, and they take advantage of the syncopated brashness that they best exemplify.

The bright spots in the album are truly dazzling, while some of the b-sides aren’t very memorable in comparison, and for that reason, the album feels quite top-heavy — the first five tracks are clear bangers, but the energy dips through the back half of the record.

While there are still moments where her many commitments result in under-developed tracks (like the lackluster Labi Siffre cover, “Bless the Telephone”, or the uncomfortable vocal sample of “Forever Be”), she takes a risk and succeeds.

The beats are luminous, the melodies enlightening, and, most importantly, the record is guiding a path to much brighter things for the producer.

neo bathes in worries, stresses, breakdowns, and doubts. It’s not always pleasant, but necessary for identifying the worst of ourselves before it’s too late and everything implodes.

“No Wolf Like The Present” tips off the festivities with loads of frenetic energy, but it never leaves reality, and that goes for the rest of the album. Oddly enough, this restraint warrants some of the record’s finest moments, and when the Texas rockers aren’t twisting and distorting their music like a rubber band, they get lost in the ether.

His legacy was going to live on whether The Diary was released or not. This just broadens the scope of the legend and gives us even more to appreciate.

Lack of variation in the tracklist is the token criticism against Eyehategod records, and while this one has its monotonous moments (the stoned drone of the seven-minute “Flags and Cities Bound”), the memorable riffs and refrains come in swarms.

The result is a record caught between young adulthood and just plain adulthood, but you have to delve into the lyrics to discover that dichotomy. And, even then, the clues come from individual lines instead of a greater narrative.

His LP offers enough lyrical courses to chew through. What it lacks is minor and, given his immense talent, a tad comical: vocal delivery that follows through on the words’ emotion.

My Finest Work Yet is a strong collection of music buoyed by Bird’s mastery as a musician, recognizable whistling melodies, and , thoughtful lyrics. He does get political and inevitably opens himself up to criticism for it, but he does so with a light touch that doesn’t overpower the songs. Even if listeners disagree with Bird’s views, they’ll still enjoy the music.

SORROW feels like a half-hour pummeling followed by a 24-minute healing session. And maybe that’s the point. Separation--and the grief resulting from it--is never an evenly balanced journey.

Throughout For All We Know, her vocals display her adventurous spirit, the mixture of electronic and acoustic instrumentation developing into a funky blend.

That ability to tell stories of varying depth and importance is what rap is really all about, and in that regard, Swet Shop Boys are ascending fast.

Beach Music feels like the work of an artist a few steps ahead of his audience, jumping to answer their expectations of a DIY darling taking on the trappings of a label.

As a solo project, Dirty Projectors works well. As significant of a shift as this album is from past Dirty Projectors’ records, the detailed production and arranging work shows Longstreth put all of himself into making it.

It’s a worthy effort from a living legend, full of songs that are at least interesting and at times breathtaking.

On Ivy Tripp, Crutchfield creeps further into adulthood, expanding both her outlook and sound without losing the intimacy that endeared her to us in the first place.

Health&Beauty supply No Scare with enough oxygen to make the album reflect your dreams for this world, excelling at the meeting point between its recorded execution and personal interpretation.

Blood’s most engaging moments come when La Havas pierces through the layer of polish that’s coated her work to date.

For an hour, Beal indulges the softest, most serene edge of his songwriting. His voice unspools silkily, occasionally looping into falsetto, often multitracked over itself.

For now, What a Time is the sound of two of our biggest current pop figures using each other’s strengths to bring out their own.

It asks listeners to love it, and its creator, for both flaws and attributes. Fortunately, the latter far outweigh the former, announcing Banks as a well-rounded songwriter and singer that deserves a lot of the attention she has earned so early in her career.

Jones’ best work came through exploring the emotional intricacies and broad passions of romantic relationships, and that’s no different on Soul of a Woman. In fact, these affairs of the heart smolder even more heatedly than usual on the record’s ballad-heavy second half.

Without pretense or irony, Alabama Shakes carry on a vibrant rock ‘n’ roll tradition with psychedelic twists and turns that keep listeners curious about what’s next. Boys & Girls fired the warning shot three years ago. Sound & Color continues the momentum, one holy wail at a time.

There are few sonic commonalities between the texture-oriented Love Remains--an album a lot of people loved--and Care. Objectively, though, this is a thoughtful, sincere pop R&B record that at times reaches Krell’s intended gorgeous heights.

Taken individually, the tracks from These Systems Are Failing are refreshingly vibrant for the 51-year-old Moby, who, even after 12 studio albums and countless other releases under his belt, continues to reinvent himself.

She might be conflicted, but Alone revels in the kind of humanity that’s long made Hynde’s best work with the Pretenders tick.

A 20-track album is a lot. But with The WIZRD, one can barely feel it because of the smooth flow from track to track. Even the few misses don’t disrupt the rhythm of the project.

There’s virtually nothing not to like about Pilot Talk III. Like other Curren$y releases, it makes up for its lack of revelations with a contagious joyfulness.

With Ha, Ha, He., Mourn suggest that they’re more than capable of working their way through to that end, and putting the whole struggle on display with a righteous fury.

With its gritted teeth and threats of violence, “If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You I Will” sets the tone for the rest of The Dream Is Over, a feral animal of an album that frequently lashes out without warning.

In comparison [to 2007’s The Con], Love You to Death can at times seem regressive, less poignant. For those who once looked to Tegan and Sara to help them navigate the bumpy roads of adult emotions, it’s a map for terrain they left in the dust a long time ago.

In time, fans may want something more adventurous or experimental, but for now, the band is in a groove, churning out good to great songs with a distinguishable aesthetic.

Having self-produced the record, he was able to maintain a certain level of rawness with these recordings. Strings buzz and ring throughout every track. When the drums come in, they feel large and demanding. His voice is hazy, almost like a speck in his own musical universe.

While effective on its own, the LP offers an even more intriguing journey when played as a continuation to the band’s previous album. That said, each of the four tracks offers meditative instrumentation, allowing listeners to soak in the atmospheric vibes that make up Pyroclasts.

Faith No More had nothing to lose by staying on history’s sidelines, for once, but Sol Invictus proves that they belong back in the game.

It’s easy to get caught up in the saccharine beats and hooks, but Angelakos has once again succeeded in making a powerful and accessible pop record about his deeply personal experiences.

Volbeat have produced another fun and eclectic album with a plethora of potential hit singles. They don’t stray far from their established formula, but do push the limits enough to keep things interesting.

Gallagher embraces acceptance on a deeper level with this album than we’ve seen before; he’s game for going all in on “Now That I’ve Found You”, but he also displays the power of reflection on “Once” and “Alright Now”.

While he may not be breaking new ground here, Morby shows that there’s plenty of resonance yet to be mined from familiar tropes while also finally finding a distinct voice within.

Jepsen is best when she’s in celebration mode. ... There are times on Dedicated when overproduction overrides the pure, sincere vocals that made Jepsen’s EMOTION so beloved.

Running Out of Love is absolutely true to the duo’s style and their assessment of today’s Sweden.

Much of his work lives in destruction and rebirth, and embracing that helps to make Too Many Voices his strongest record since his 2012 breakout, Luxury Problems.

Gearing up to be the next EDM crossover talent, Flume’s sophomore effort, Skin, showcases a producer at ease with all of the sounds moving tickets at America’s major festival events: hip-hop, indie pop, and EDM.

Midnights is a record best enjoyed as its own work. It’s an undeniably rich listen, the kind of pop music that feels increasingly rewarding with each pass, and it’s an album that reminds us that Swift has countless stories left to tell.

Even if MCIII falls shy of its lofty predecessor, this record marks his most ambitious outing to date and makes it impossible not to already start anticipating MCIV.

Short Movie lacks the seamless thematic and tonal cohesion of Once I Was An Eagle, but it offers more immediate pleasures.

Placed within the context of Cash’s legendary career, this collection sees the Man in Black shining brightly out among the stars, even at a moment when most of the world wasn’t really interested in stargazing.

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

The Internet is a big place, but Cities Aviv is here to highlight all the best parts, and in doing so he’s carved out a niche that no one fits as well as he does.

This is no high-profile nostalgia-grab, just another iteration of these four longtime friends and talented musicians producing art, a strong counter-example to the backlash against the often soulless reunion movement.

Their songs run thick with the anxiety of uprooting, but they’re also rich with characters, some of whom are referred to affectionately by name.

A collection of mostly good — a few forgettable and a clutch of very good — songs you have no reason to know. But the last couple albums were reminders not to take your faves for granted, and if they continue on this path, they might even win over some Pixies fans.

Dry Food is an engaging statement, guarded and subtle at times, boisterous and revealing at others, and it’ll be exciting to see which elements win out as Kempner continues to polish her already glowing sound.

While the record doesn’t reinvent the wheel in any major ways, it offers an exciting array of musicianship that’ll keep listeners hyped. Body Count’s drive towards facing real world issues, along with their intriguing fusion of musical styles, allows them to be a band for fans of both the old and new school.

In addition to their more fully formed sound, one of the more exciting things about The Internet is the music’s point of view.

It succeeds in its commitment to being, first and foremost, a Night Beds album, primarily concerned with mining the past for its shining moments of beauty and disaster. For this reason, it never feels like anything other than Yellen staying true to himself, to what inspires him and makes him hungry.

The 13 songs on Nosebleed Weekend communicate angst, anger, and regret by turns, but that feeling of comfort rests like a soft pillow at the very bottom of the mix, giving the trio enough confidence to explore corners of their sound they had never thought to unearth before.

It’s evident from the outset that things on FFS are going to work out just fine, and the record keeps that momentum flowing largely through to the end.

A Distant Call finds Sheer Mag growing in terms of their palette, thundering with confidence in their ability as musicians as well as their beliefs. Luckily, they don’t linger too much in the details of the overarching story line, treating the narrative as a vehicle for the songs rather than the other way around.

This is the sound of a band learning to work together again after nearly half a decade apart and finding that they aren’t as rusty as they might think.

For their second at-bat, Krug and Siinai have succeeded in creating a hypnotic and heartfelt work that fully validates the hubris of its creation.

There are no filler colors like “macaroni and cheese”. The brushstrokes he paints as a purveyor of perreo pop might not be as broad, but they’re far-reaching in highlighting the evolution and future of reggaeton music. Balvin remains a power player in the globalization of the #LatinoGang, and Colores continues to showcase his colorful flow and spirit as a beacon in the movement.

While it lacks the raw, jubilant catharsis of a Broken Social Scene release, Darlings is both understated and refined, showcasing the many facets of Drew’s romantic songwriting.

As a whole, Lost & Found finds Jorja Smith making a name for herself with presence and poise. Throughout these 12 songs, she commands a mastery of various styles, with enough experiments to flesh out a varied, captivating album.

Kuiper shows Shepherd as an artist still exploring his craft, feeling his way through new surroundings. Though his approach is methodical and workmanlike, he still manages to weave together explosive, transcendent moments throughout.

Though compact, For My Crimes is far from slight and marks another welcome addition into what’s become one of the best runs of the 2010s.

Like the original Basement Tapes, Lost on the River plays more like a sampler than a carefully sequenced, cohesive album. While this leads to an uneven listen, it also accentuates the group’s range of abilities.

No matter its rocky moments, After Laughter exhibits the enduring trait that makes Paramore so appealing: Even when the situation is dire and emotions are running high, they tell it like it is with smiles on their faces. You’d be forgiven for missing the seriousness on After Laughter for just how much damn fun it is.

The interludes are all derived from the same sonic template as the songs, so the borders between tracks can be hazy, giving the album a meandering feel. That said, ultimately there’s something refreshing about Solange’s dreary, almost funereal compositions.

My Morning Jacket harken back to their alt country roots on The Waterfall and create a remarkable vision of the American countryside in the process, one as filled with solitude as it is with wonder.

Many reunion records fall flat by trying too deliberately to recapture what once was, but Interiors lives in the now, thereby shedding the reunion record talk to instead exist more on its own terms. It’s also the kind of forward-looking record that makes the thought of future Quicksand records sound not just promising, but likely.

Luminiferous feels more like a collection of tightly crafted songs, spanning the stoner metal spectrum from atmospheric doom to fast-paced Motörhead-inspired punk metal.

Even with his sexy talk sometimes failing as foreplay, Wildheart is a magnificent, swirling epic of longing, love, and lust.

The album itself deals in paradox, too: light and pleasing to the ear, it’s an easy pop dose unless you choose to pay close attention to the lyrics. Then it becomes one of the most wrenching listens of the year.

It’s rare that a record holds your attention from start to finish, but because Deep Fantasy is undiluted, its finest qualities are glowingly apparent.

Pieces of a Man might not be what you whistle to in the bathroom or what you have on repeat for days, but Mick Jenkins’ lyrical and creative performance make this an album that you’ll need to return to.

While concise in length, MAGDALENE paces FKA twigs through the unguarding of her traumas, ceremoniously giving way for her next act.

The lyrics paint a picture of discomfort and restlessness, which grows over the course of the album into a fully formed portrait of personal strength, creativity, and hard-eyed refusal in the face of the harassment of time.

Yes, the listening experience would have been improved with tighter editing, but there are a great many sins in the world, and a soundtrack being too-faithful to the movie is hardly the worst. There’s real joy in this music.

The end result sees Misty at his most desperate, heartbroken state, making a solid comedown record from I Love You, Honeybear and Pure Comedy that doesn’t quite hit the profound highs of its predecessors, but gets carried quite a long way on the backs of its honest songwriting.

There’s a rewarding quality to stumbling across a band that at least has the ambition to move beyond convention, even if the results don’t always strike an even keel.

This album is the payoff of a risk: while this may not have been a vocally challenging album for Williams, it can be deeply difficult to share the quiet corners of the soul, the stories we might not want to tell but need to for the sake of healing.

And while that album [Less Than Human] started the ethereal journey, In a Dream powers those elements into something superhuman.

Much of the soundtrack feels like papery skin drawn increasingly tight across sharp bones. There’s a tension lying under the surface of stretched notes, threatening constantly to break.

The sound of a collaboration remains a refreshing and wonderful thing. In fact, perhaps the best way to describe the material included on Vols. 11 & 12 would be to borrow the title of a long-running magazine devoted to Led Zeppelin: “tight but loose.”

For now, as a clue, we have this album of nuances, a revue of a career, where the delight is consistently in the details, some of them random, and others masterfully intentional.

Punish, Honey moves forward powered by the tension between what it keeps hidden and what little it shows.

He’s throwing his bleeding heart into the technicolor to make sense of it all. The kinetic energy between him and Currie makes this all palpable.

This album is grand. Though it clocks in at 73 minutes, it unfolds with few speed bumps.

Even when he doesn’t break new ground, Segall and Ty Segall remain solid investments. There’s definitely something to be said for getting exactly what you pay for with a new album.

Like Stephen Malkmus or Kurt Vonnegut, Barnett looks at the mundane with a skewed perspective, turning it over in her mind and transmogrifying it into something extraordinary.

Jaar has signature tones--every musician does, and it’s hard to escape them--but he steps past expectations to make a political statement that’s still subdued, jaunty, and sharp.

Though there are near misses on Crystal Fairy (like the riffs that don’t quite reach heavy metal territory in “Secret Agent Rat” or the teeth-gritting introduction of “Under Trouble” that does more to incite annoyance than apprehension), the album succeeds far more than it falls short.

Restarter has an unwavering groove. What it lacks in immediacy it makes up for in lasting appeal.