The acoustic Clumps strips down for a particularly moving two minutes, but for the most part, Loveless commits to the stunning sonic evolution. Embrace it.

On Operator, MSTRKRFT seem uninterested in fitting in with current mainstream EDM trends, and that gives them the freedom to come up with something that still has just enough in common with their past to satisfy long-time fans.

At worst the album gets a bit too cutesy (lead single Frankie Sinatra), but its unrelentingly cheery harmonies and melodies are so effervescent that it practically makes the air sparkle.

Natasha Khan's fourth Bat for Lashes album is her most mature and cohesive yet.

The hallmarks of Blood Orange’s sound are all here--breathy male/female vocal interplay, rare groove rhythms, jazzy sax, gliding slap bass, honeyed falsetto melodies and flirty spoken word--but channelled into a reassuring, comfortable space that brings together pop’s supposed polarities of accessibility and specificity. Somewhere in there, Freetown Sound finds its own beautiful sweet spot.

Nothing about For Evelyn feels resolved. A restless quality drives each track, resulting in a thoughtful, solitary album that you listen, cry and even dance to alone. Yet after it's over, you're left feeling less alone, because through its intimate explorations, Georgas makes the personal universal.

The Magic is not their best album, but it's an excellent Deerhoof album, and they are the greatest of all time at what they do.

Puberty 2 is full of isolation, anxiety and loss, with the idea at its centre that happiness eventually becomes sadness and despair. Mitski switches between airy minimalism and bursts of loose, wild rock as she navigates these tempestuous waters.

Diarrhea Planet have always aimed for the rafters, but on Turn To Gold they crash through them.

Gunn excels at unrushed, meditative songwriting, but this album also finds him giving stronger form to his dreamy creations.

The title track, Show Me, Drive The Night and Face 2 Face are ostensibly about a failing romantic relationship but crafted to read as if the daggers are also aimed inward, which adds an interesting duality to the album's titular theme.

It has the bigness and accessibility of a major hip-hop album thanks in part to zeitgeisty guests like Justin Bieber, Future and Young Thug.

They might've built their reputation on kinetic live shows, but taking the time to make a proper studio album has refreshed, revitalized and tightened their special sound.

Fallen Angels is a hazy, laid-back history lesson with as many enigmatic twists and turns as a classic double-cross caper. It subverts archetypes of romance, heroism and interpersonal connection to reveal something more sinister about human intent, all packaged in beautiful musicianship of the highest order.

Thematically the songs stick to the familiar pop terrain of love--the least adventurous thing about them--but Oh No nonetheless makes a convincing case for broadening the term "pop star" beyond the glamazons.

It's the kind of album that resists being parsed out into singles. Aside from radio-ready lead track Love As A Weapon, the rest work together as a cohesive whole even while bouncing around lyrically.

In contrast to the neoclassical leanings of Antony and the Johnsons, Hoplelessness is about this particular moment and sounds very of the moment, thanks to beatmakers Hudson Mohawke and Oneohtrix Point Never. Combined with Anohni's trembling and vulnerable vibrato, its grandiose sounds crescendo into a sprawling political epic that could inspire spontaneous bursts of interpretive dance.

As much as Kaytranada seems to be referencing genre staples and styles, his constant flights of rhythmic fancy make his music seem genre-averse. And when he connects with a vocalist or drummer who shares that sensibility, 99.9% really glows.

Every few months, the members would meet up at their studio and play whatever they felt like without the looming pressure of album cycles or release dates. Eventually, these sessions became the basis for Waltzed In From The Rumbling, a record at once thoughtful and unwieldy.

The Toronto trio's idiosyncratic blend of psychedelic rock, techno, industrial, New Age and cosmic folk has solidified into a sound that's unmistakably their own, and that doesn't depend on the theatricality of their live show to work.

Refreshingly, they're not only about slick production atmospherics, though some cavernous sonics and electro rhythms threaten to steal the show around the album's midpoint.

What sets Lemonade apart are the ways it continually highlights the fine line between empathy and anger. It’s a line Beyoncé walks with supreme confidence.

The result is often delightfully overwhelming in its heaviness, with the calm moments in between making the ear-splitting loud parts disturbingly jarring. These extreme peaks and valleys elevate the record into the realm of difficult but deeply satisfying art.

Addicted, Magic, Priceless and Fool No Mo are as sharply written and realized as they are unapologetically indulgent of heady atmospherics, each song its own exaltation of the understated power of Tweet's singular voice.

Trouble, while not a huge departure from the Woodpigeon canon, proves Hamilton's songwriting is always growing. Here's hoping his audience will be, too.

Harvey sings with unshakeable poise, and her melodies are as sticky as ever--to the point where you can imagine some songs working as barroom singalongs.

He may not be reinventing himself with each album, but his songs are so rife with double meanings and flourishes, there's always a lot to unpack.

He [bandleader Anthony Gonzalez] masterfully weaves myriad sounds and structures--mainly late 70s- and early 80s-influenced--into a remarkably strong, cohesive unit.