The former enfant terribles seem to have arrived at their final destination and sound more assured than ever before with Seek Shelter — a stunning achievement that will restore even the most lapsed practitioner's faith in rock music.

Commerce is pulling more gears than art here. Simply skip the lows and ride the highs. Because when Khaled does hit, it can still be fun as hell, like gorging on popcorn and 'splosions.

The emotions that are being expressed feel lived-in and deeply personal while remaining open to listener interpretations.

They embrace vulnerability, taking time to address modern issues (read: symptoms of capitalism), while also imbuing a real sense of fun, artistic merit and instrumental democracy in the record's 11 tracks.

Rare, Forever feels less like an album and more like a series of single, punctuated thoughts; or one man's long meditation. It's a little jumpy, and pulses with frenetic energy. He oscillates between dancefloor bangers ("Dumbo") and languid transitions ("Allchea Vella Amor").

Fortitude is an album that takes a few listens to fully wrap one's head around, and there's no denying just how much there is to be heard in these 11 versatile tracks. If there was any doubt still about Gojira's potential, Fortitude proves unequivocally that the band are MVPs of modern metal.

Richard remains a testament to boundary-pushing, genre bending and expectation-shattering art, though Second Line's tempered grandiosity ultimately leaves her ambition underserved.

The mixtape format may excuse the lack of sonic cohesion for the project, but it does not explain the faltering artistic direction that is more than likely to leave Yachty's fans disoriented and disenchanted.

A set of tapes wound with energy, suffusing the record's calculated structure with flashes of organic movement.

if i could make it go quiet is a testament to girl in red's rapid growth as an artist. In addition to a sophisticated examination of anger and suffering, her voice has grown richer and deeper while her sound has evolved to blend punk nostalgia into her youthful ennui.

The Million Masks of God goes for an emotional gut-punch, but it's a bit light on impact. Much of the power of this music comes from the mind when it ought to come from the soul.

Never the Right Time is excitingly different, if inconsistent. The well-known pillars of Stott's sound still underpin much of what happens across the album's nine tracks, yet the way those pillars are occasionally arranged have made way for new kinds of space.

With Toral's help, rousay has presented a musical vision that is newly inviting while retaining all of the elements that have made her music so special

While long-gone are the sonic textures of the band's early years — replaced here with some novel and resourceful instrumentation — the group's second (and now longest) run has been unbelievably solid and unimpeachable.

McCartney III is more than your average covers album — each collaborator stretches the skeletons of McCartney's songs into something new, making the album an unconventional collection of tracks that bypass the rules of genre and sonic cohesion. Few will enjoy every track on this album, but it's the versatility and diversity throughout these tracks that truly make McCartney III Imagined the record that it is.

Fortunately, with The Battle at Garden's Gate, they've earned more ground by delivering an album that's far more confident, earning the rock schlock with larger compositions that feel more grandiose.

On ENTERTAINMENT, DEATH, every fragmented idea is thoughtfully ripped apart and stitched back together with the gusto of a delirious genius. The band reframes reality and mixes the euphoric highs with the sinking lows in strangely surreal collages that are freakishly beautiful, leaving you feeling kinda stoned and a little bit sinful.

Roadrunner: New Light, New Machine achieves artistic exploration while maintaining the unmistakable hip-hop aesthetic without it feeling pretentious or forced.

Fearless (Taylor's Version) introduces her younger audience to an iconic set of songs and feels like pure nostalgia for her older audience. This re-release signifies the beginning of Swift doing things her way, taking full control of her music and sharing it with fans who are eager to listen.

Dream Weapon is a transportive odyssey that casts humanity's end as an inevitable reality with an opportunity for renewal, and offers a space where listeners can reflect on what that might mean to them, or just lay back and enjoy the ride.

As always, the band are at the height of their powers when at their most emotively rousing. ... But when recalling their previous efforts, there's an unshakeable feeling that they've done it before, but better — though you can't fault them for doing what so many post-rockers have done over the past 20 years.

New Long Leg may not always be positive, but it's more interesting than that, more needling and necessary. It's everything at once, a record that absorbs and spits back the unending noise of the world and asks that you take a second look, every common thing somehow made brand new.

It is a masterful experiment, full of rich details delivered by a sextet of artists who are not only top-flight players but excellent listeners and re-listeners.

On Is 4 Lovers, the pair have settled in and settled down, both in their lives and to their own sound.

The shadows of the trap loom large on Benny's dense and detailed The Plugs I Met 2 EP, the sequel to 2019's impeccable original with producer DJ Shay. This time, New York underground producer Harry Fraud's soundscape elevates both the melancholy and menace to cinematic heights.

Though drumming on tracks like "make it right." and "hypnotized" occasionally overpower the songwriting, the songs are redeemed by Garbus' vocal wizardry. In the verses, she meanders all over the scale in an offhand way, but dishes out a cathartic climax of soaring harmonies that make for some epic choruses.

As the musicians begin to ebb and flow toward the ninth and final movement, it's clear that Pharoah Sanders and Floating Points are so metaphysically in tune with their latest creation that their respective musical personalities almost disappear into the waves of sound, making Promises a recording that is more of a transcending mind meld than it is a collaboration.

Green to Gold is, at times, quite literal in its depictions of Silberman's personal experiences and other times intensely figurative, staring into the void of existentialism ("Am I incidental?" he asks on "Volunteer") with the kind of quiet assurance only the Antlers can evoke.

Although Bieber created a decent body of work, it's hard to get past that the sentiments of the overall message is skewed by the lack of effort towards creating music that addresses any sort of justice or lack thereof.

Chemtrails over the Country Club is sultry at times, syrupy sweet at others, and sad in a truer way than we have yet seen from Lana. It is a well-woven escape, but it is harder than ever not to wonder: at what cost?

Guided by tiered mixes and honest lyricism, POSTDATA has, for all intents and purposes, succeeded in transporting any inclined ear to a place filled with imagination and whimsy. While it may occasionally wander in finicky obscurity, it nevertheless oozes character and individuality.

This album reveals that Lanois is as gifted a collaborator and curator of talent as he is a creator of atmospheric productions for megastars. Let's hope the pandemic lockdowns lift soon, because Lanois and his bandmates deserve to delight audiences with their crackling chemistry and old-school gospel songcraft, all of which are vividly captured on Heavy Sun.

Is it incoherent? Absolutely, but that's all part of the fun. Although it's tempting to wish for an entire album in the same style — the krautrock tunes are especially strong — that wouldn't be nearly as fun as this strange tour through VanGaalen's brain.

Overall, the album's production is too polished, which somewhat contradicts the band's filth-caked persona. Instead of their lovable, sloppy sludge with festering warts and all, Nomadic Behavior is squeaky clean and coherent, with a surgical gravity to each and every downtuned chord.

This record drags in its second half, as several of their records have now done, but there are some all-timers to add to their best-of playlist (along with their standalone single "Warn Me," a phenomenal song not included here) and the rest is enjoyable enough. Tigers Jaw make albums that are good, sometimes very good, but not quite great.

For a band as hardboiled as Arab Strap, As Days Get Dark is nonetheless a love letter to the brave, ambitious nature the band has built their audience upon. The swings are bigger, the misses are broader, the hits are even more rewarding — for Arab Strap, there's no other reasonable way to approach it.

Electrically Possessed contains some of their most daring, buoyant and surprisingly solid set of songs, framing Stereolab as a band who managed to stay adventurous and weird right to the end.

Harlecore is '90s rave held up for review, assessment and full enjoyment, and if there isn't a ton of depth here, the breadth (with Harle essentially exploring four different sub-styles through his various personas) is more than impressive enough to make up for it. It's all pulled off with such glee and energy, that in terms of pure enjoyment, it's very difficult to fault Harlecore.

L.W. may not boast many surprises, but it cements its makers as masters of their realm.

As usual, fascinating choices abound when a lost Bob Dylan session is unearthed (and, excitingly, signalling that maybe there's way more of this kind of stuff to come), but this one feels particularly prototypical and casual, and, with good humour, was intended to warm folks up — to each other and the material — more than get its hypothetical audience hot and bothered.

It's clear from listening to and watching Way Down in the Rust Bucket that this was a truly special occasion that now lives on, in this remarkable new document of Crazy Horse in all its (ragged) glory.

In Ferneaux is everything most Blanck Mass albums are not: patient, subtle and disarmingly low-key. It was made in confinement, but it takes Power to surprising new places.

It's tempting to imagine what it might sound like if Cloud Nothings took these experiments further and gave their sound a more radical reinvention. As it is, The Shadow I Remember perfectly encapsulates everything the band do so well, and hints at what might be to come.

Carnage covers broader range than most of the Bad Seeds' recent records, cramming plenty of Cave's various stylings into a neat, eight-song package. For all of Cave's hunger and glee to return to the foreboding sounds of his past, it's when he opts for pure catharsis and bliss that he album achieves its full power.

Other than a few lapses, the hooks, synths and classical instruments effectively recontextualize Architects' musicianship. For Those That Wish to Exist proves these guys can successfully diversify their sound.

Little Oblivions is generous and giving; it's not only a public display of personal catharsis, but also an act of collective commiseration and an invitation to heal.

Jenkins' winding writing is cerebral and referential, nearly every song capable of opening a Wikipedia rabbit hole. However, much like Norwegian art-pop virtuoso Jenny Hval, she works wonders in the place between heart and mind; her intellectualism is never overbearing, instead revealing a dedication to explaining the unexplainable.

While A Billion Little Lights as a whole is not as elegantly cohesive as Wild Pink's past work, the starry-eyed melodies shine stronger and more confidently than ever.

As the Love Continues is one of them. Already an enduring album, it will surely solidify Mogwai's venerated status as shamans of our collective consciousness.

If art mimics life, then Open Door Policy's musical tension, timely themes and efforts to reimagine the band while remaining authentic deftly capture today's world.

Across its 13 songs, the beats are crisp, the choruses pronounced and the hooks sharp.

Seven albums and 16 years into her music career, Williams seems more confident than ever in doing as she pleases instead of pleasing others.

On TYRON, slowthai sounds more together and present than ever.

Tying ambient soundscapes, borderline IDM and subtle snapshots of traditional music into a coherent, yet distinctive, body of work, this auspicious debut forecasts a promising future for Yu Su. Anyone would be happy to hop in a boat and sail these waters for hours and hours.

While Good Woman is not the most notable stop on the Staves' journey, it retains all of their most delectable elements — heart-hitting harmonies, lovely melodies, and moments of lyrical spark — that have come to define their work.

While this third entry could be classified as largely more of the same, there's enough freshness here to warrant a closer look, especially if you're already a fan of the project.

It is too early to call this the band's best work, as there is so much more to come from this band going forward. For a heavy album full of unexpected surprises, We Are Always Alone is an ideal second full-length from an up-and-coming band.

Sound Ancestors is a mixed bag if ever there was one. It's funky, it's psychedelic, it's jazzy, dirty, clean, and mean. It's Madlib.

The meshing of classically trained and self-taught players adds depth to the band's sound, creating a unique concoction of precise technical skill and raw, almost primal passion, leading to an unpredictable instrumental delight.

Inventive, lush, and propelled by taut rhythms and strings that gust like competing winds, Ignorance matches the subtle drama and sparkling intelligence of Lindeman's writing, exploding her music into opalescent shards.

Medicine at Midnight isn't good because of the ways it pushes the envelope, but because of how upholds the band's status as rock torchbearers. This is the Foos doing what they do best.

The ambitions, expansions, and collaborations on Vertigo Days mostly pay off, sacrificing a little thematic cohesion for the reward of greater variety in sound. It does the good work of forging musical links out of broken global barriers.

With 12 tracks and a runtime of barely more than half an hour, any flaws are minor and the album breezes by. The arrangements may be ambitious, but there's very little pomp or grandeur here; this is just another low-stakes success in a long and varied career.

Stripped-down in concept, and impenetrable in execution, I've Seen All I Need to See is perhaps the purest summation of the Body's artistry. Harnessing the core of their heart of darkness, King and Buford continue to blaze trails with immersive antipathy.

Thunderstorm Warnings takes everything the Besnard Lakes have ever done well and provides it in abundance. There's nothing here that they haven't done before, but no one else has ever come close to encroaching on the band's niche of colliding intrepid Rush and King Crimson-style prog with the atmosphere of Montreal's storied post-rock scene, so why change now?

These tracks point toward a more compelling musical direction that would allow Parks to stand out as a singular pop artist, but the overwhelmingly simple bedroom pop stylings that decorate the majority of the album struggle to leave a mark. ... Nevertheless, Parks' wise words are indeed the album's saving grace.

While Home lacks the consistency of previous records, it makes a strong case for Rhye as a pop star waiting in the wings, à la the Weeknd, thanks to a voice versatile enough to complement any instrumental choice. Four albums in, Rhye has finally begun to branch out, and not a moment too soon.

The real fun of Cooler Returns, though, lies in the clever details that you might never understand, no matter how many times you listen.

The formula certainly has its merits though, and Bicep bring them to the fore better than most on Isles, and all with an appealingly late-night, cosmopolitan flair, where ghostly fragments of Hindi, Turkish pop or Bulgarian choirs are just as likely to hover among the neon synths as the usual breathy trance sirens. It gives the album a bustling, urban energy that very much works in its favour, even if its style might slightly outweigh its substance sometimes.

On Magic Mirror, Charles may be self-doubting and even gloomy at times, but she never loses her glowing spirit and hope for the many more adventures her life will lead her on.

Sullivan is often overlooked as the R&B master she is, but her latest project displays the vocal range of legends before her, demonstrating her ability to capture the qualms of life and love relevant to the realities of dating in the age of the internet.

The first half of Spare Ribs is actually quite slowed down and weird, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it doesn't complement Williamson's vocals as well. ... The title track and "Thick Ear" absolutely steal the show. Sleaford Mods have shown they can do it slow, but they're still much better when they floor it.

While the constant need for creative freedom and instrumental variety means that Drunk Tank Pink begins to meander towards the record's back end, a handful of sprawling epics showcase Shame's enviable talent for vivid storytelling.

Though it's not pushing boundaries, Reluctant Hero proves metal can be catchy without being stupid. If melodic groove metal needs a hero in 2020, it's Killer Be Killed.

Created in a time of distress and despair, Fuck Art is pure escapism. Looking back 20 years from now, you'd have no idea it was made during one of the most world-changing events of the past century; the only thing apocalyptic about it is the ground-shaking sound of a cranked-up Marshall stack.

While still lighthearted and filled with humour, it's a massive shift from previous releases, both musically and lyrically, with plenty of hints of more to come.

By not only fearlessly facing grief, but also honouring Justin's sly humor, raw vulnerability and nimble songwriting, Steve Earle fittingly sees his young Cowboy off into the sunset.

With CEL, nothing is simply uniform, which makes for a compelling listen every time.

There's lots to enjoy here for old and new fans alike.

Instead of collapsing under any pressures with his new band, Mercer enthusiastically pushes back with this album, shrugging off any doubt that he is done reinventing himself as an artist.

She takes a left turn after her more recognizable house palette in the first half of the EP.

Over the three-song run of "Alfred's Theme" (which jacks Charles Gounod's "Funeral March of a Marionette," best known as the theme music to Alfred Hitchcock Presents, to delirious effect), "Tone Deaf," and "Book of Rhymes" (which climaxes with a flurry of DJ Premier scratches), Slim Shady stuffs more rewind-worthy punchlines and flow variations than most rappers will deliver in a whole career. ... Other attempts feel more forced. ... More compelling are the two tracks produced by D.A. Got That Dope.

His music already transcended time, but with the completion of this trilogy he has drawn a link through the past 50 years with his virtuosic compositions.

Cudi sparkles in the first two acts. ... While satisfying, the most endearing and powerful standout moments appear in the third and fourth acts.

The sheer breadth of talent that Robert Chater and Tony Di Blasi have assembled is dizzying, their collaborators as imaginatively selected as their samples.

While retreading folklore's ground, evermore deepens and enriches its older sister's world.

In its entirety, the collaborative effort is compelling; Plastic Bouquet is the furthest thing from a plastic collection.

Origin of the Alimonies is an opera, complete with three acts, an overture and an interlude. Sonically, it picks up on past Liturgy motifs: minimalism, black metal, classical music and electronic beats. The scope and scale, however, is incredibly vast.

Tasteful inclusions of every kind, powerful melodies and dense, wry lyrics make Tim Melina Theo Bobby an unmissable conclusion for fans of Midwest emo, electronic rock, and strong songwriting.

This isn't a Sigur Rós album, and that's just fine. Lack of reverb-soaked bowed guitars notwithstanding, this collaboration vividly reimagines a bastion of medieval Icelandic poetry. The only issue is how long it spent under wraps.

While BE is a slight departure from BTS's usual offerings, its more matter-of-fact and laidback vibe could pull in new fans who are looking for music to relate to in this crappy year.

The album peaks when Cyrus finally delivers retro rock-inspired collaborations with both Billy Idol and Joan Jett. These two champions of 1980s rock bring some grit to the album, taking Cyrus into the heavier direction she's been teasing for years.

Most of the material just hovers around the same tempo, tone, lyrical style and sound dynamics, robbing the listener of any sort of emotional peaks or valleys that are so important when floating a double album. It's simply a shame that the execution of Cyr fails to match the naked ambition Corgan's concepts promised.

Her party-girl braggadocio feels more nuanced by recent tragedy. Yes, listeners are blasted with sex-positive bangers that bounce from wall-to-wall, like the infectious "Body," which will surely be gentrified by White TikTok in the coming days, but these moments are made human next to moments like "Circles" where she reflects on recent trauma.

In allowing others back into the fray and stripping their sound, Longstreth has once again tapped into what made the band so engrossing in the first place. 5EPs feels like a restart, a long and considered exhale.

Donoghue and Holland continue to be unmoved by the larger cultural forces around them, producing a record that doubles down on their best and, at times, worst impulses.

Those who actually contemplate this album and its live counterpart on their artistic merits might well recognize them, as equal to anything else in his stirring, outspoken back catalogue.

Something to Lose is evidence of Better Person committing further to terrain covered on his earlier EP, mining often overlooked musical traditions with obvious enthusiasm and yearning credibility, an effect that is elevated when paired with Goldwasser's expertise.