Heavy Lifter tried to take some new directions and added more heft to their songs, but not in the organic approach that True Love embraces. Like joy and true love itself, Hovvdy sounds best here when they use a broader palette without getting too far outside the lines—bringing more to bear and letting in quite a bit more light.

Let Me Do One More teeters betweens knowing jokiness and kindhearted vulnerability. And though she's shown these qualities before, Tudzin carries the weight of these emotions with a masterful command—embracing change and figuring things out as she fumbles along the way.

The ambition they pursue overall shows in what Young himself affirms to be the band's best work, and their belief in that shows through and through.

These light and dark contrasts make for a thoroughly compelling listen that, certainly, makes up for Andrew's shortcomings as a lyricist.

Introvert is a beautiful collection of poems filled with stories and experiences, on which Simz doesn't skimp on resources and thinks big.

It’s the sound of a band transforming into something subtle but beautiful—the same way trees do when their foliage fades from green to orange.

Overall, her empowering message points at the daily toxic attitudes that female celebrities deal with. Screen Violence also projects confidence in a musical sense with its grand synth-pop and new wave, resisting and challenging the misogyny that unfortunately reaches far beyond our screens.

With no track here surpassing the 3 1/2 minute mark, the band firmly anchors the key components of their sound with a tight, steady grip.

Compared to this summer's pop offerings—think of the similarly themed efforts by Billie Eilish and Lorde, both of which deal with the trappings of fame with serenity and blissful detachment, respectively—If I Can't Get Love, I Want Power is provocative, and even ugly, in its most vulnerable moments. Self-indulgent, sure, but its emotional chaos feels earned.

The band’s blinkered aspiration to create a classic again produces an album that is enjoyable but hollow. In that way, at least, Pressure Machine is a Killers album just like any other.

Loving In Stereo has flashes of talent beyond its most showy jewels. There's a seventies aura that stains each verse, beat, and falsetto, as they channel a post-pandemic, Studio 54 vibe on tracks like What D'You Know About Me?, Bonnie Hill, and Fire. On the latter, bass lines take over and flare with fiery excitement. Loving in Stereo is the first album that Jungle releases through their own independent label Caiola Records. It feels like they're moving forward.

He pushes his songs forward with just the right amount of old and new—all without losing his adventurous drive. He takes us into the darkest hallways of his mind with, ironically, a rejuvenated zest.

This is a truly mesmerizing follow-up for a band with few peers and even fewer fears.

Home Video is a more noticeably more mellow affair. Musically, it can be a little thin. Her strength as a lyricist is unwavering, even on her sparest, most nondescript ballads (Thumbs). But, as perkier indie-rock tunes like First Time and Brando prove, her careful arpeggios can also shine when she lets a little looser.

Lovesick Utopia is fairly lightweight and doesn’t grab the attention in the way that most of the other tracks do, and while Keep Moving is accompanied by a great video (co-produced by Wilson herself), it comes off as an imitation of a Jessie Ware track. These are minor complaints though, as the long period leading up to this record—not to mention the time afforded for additional audio work due to the coronavirus pandemic—means Wilson has had the space to hone her sound and deliver upon the potential her earlier releases promised.

While much has been made of Jubilee being an album about joy—and in some ways, it is—the majority of the third Japanese Breakfast album captures a full breadth of emotions. ... It’s on the back half of this album where things don’t click as strongly.

Though The Golden Casket shows Modest Mouse at their most accessible and tuneful, a creative shift that started with 2004's Good News For People Who Love Bad News, they return to some of the experimental aspects that defined so much of their early work.

Sensational isn’t as good as its title suggests, but there’s plenty to enjoy, even if you’ll be tempted to look for the joins to see how it’s all been done. But still, don’t think about things too much, and you’ll be “lovin’ it, lovin’ it, lovin’ it.”

Considering the vast number of ideas they put forth here, they're still finding new ways to engage with their signature formula after all these years—easily one of their most robust since 2008's Version 2.0.

Roswell continues to grow as a versatile performer, channeling her pop impulses with gusto—whether she embraces Abba-esque harmonies with a country lilt (Safe from Heartbreak), brings bright, celestial touches to synthy mid-tempo ballads (How Can I Make it OK), or howls her way through speedy punk rock (Feeling Myself.) And though everything doesn't fall into place, she does inject her unique personality into whatever style she chooses.

It’s the ultimate sample platter for a band who defiantly refuses to meet your expectations, and for everything it lacks in consistency, it more than makes up for in offering a heart-bled moment that will burn bright for someone.

Sweep It Into Space obviously can’t rival that career high, but it is a leading candidate for their best post-reformation effort.

The whole thing mostly works, though, thanks to the generous application of a Blue Album power-pop filter. I Need Some of That channels The Cars (like much of Weezer’s finest work) and is the clear standout here, but there’s plenty more to raise a smile.

As madcap of a concept as ULTRAPOP appears to be, its musical thrust feels purposeful in its creation and curation.

The original was Etten taking tentative first steps to collaborate, while this album sees her pass on the songs completely. It’s a fitting legacy for an album that’s about moving on stronger, but not without forgetting about the heartache it took to get there.

The trio seems more determined and passionate in how they concoct their witches' brew of ideas, knowingly aware of how the plot unfolds while convincing us that anything kept a secret doesn't matter. As oblique as their music has become, it uniquely makes sense to them.

World's Most Stressed Out Gardener went through several iterations:—a flute record, an electronic record, “a pile of garbage,” the album’s Bandcamp page says. Yet from these fractured origins came an intriguing album that comes together in unexpected ways. VanGaalen, like everyone else, is making the most of today’s mess.

Dry Cleaning have far more talent than they do irreverence. How satisfying, then, that where Miller was one and done, they’ve only just gotten started.