There’s a constant push and pull between the sometimes ridiculous aspects of classic hard rock and his more serious artistic and political concerns, and while it’s often unclear when he’s joking, that tension is exactly what makes it all work.

Y Dydd Olaf’s beautifully layered sounds and rhythms convey a tightly conceived sonic world full of endless ideas, even if you can’t understand the lyrics.

Like many of Romano's meticulous creations, it possesses all the hallmarks of a classic: a compelling, twisting narrative that bends the music to its shape.

Emotional, stunning and one of the strongest debuts of the year so far.

There's not much that's accessible about The Most Lamentable Tragedy, but that's a good thing.

Universes builds on that vibe [of a late-night P.A. set] with exuberant bangers full of snappy, discofied drums, repetitive phrases and dusty funk that could fit nicely into a DJ set of classic Philly soul re-edits or slickly produced tracks from the current UK garage revival.

The crisp production makes this more accessible to newbies, but it’s definitely still a Souleyman album, successfully capturing the raw, unbridled energy that’s fuelled his jump from the wedding party circuit to indie rock festivals.

It’s also the best Wilco album in a minute, and that’s largely due to its leanness (the run time is just over 30 minutes) and masterfully arranged pop tunes.

A perfect balancing act.

The whole thing has a beautiful and unexpected tenderness to it.

A couple of songs, like How To Forget, are well written but not quite interesting enough musically. Still, this album proves that Isbell is still one of the best songwriters in his genre.

The band makes focused noise with pop undertones, and their new record is undeniably grand.

There's much at play here--personalities, loud/soft dynamics, noise vs melody--and Williams and Baldi strike just the right balance.

The revelatory stuff is contextual.... One of the greatest rock records ever.

Gordon and Post haven't missed a beat. In fact, they might be better than ever.

Always good for a spirited rock song, he infuses Patty Don't You Put Me Down with narrative wit and charge that recalls contemporary Bob Dylan. We're all lucky that Thompson is on fire these days.

They've reused almost every song from their EP. But that's forgivable when the band manages a knockout with almost every punch.

Like so much of his work, Staples lures us in with stylized storytelling and production (here, primarily overseen by No I.D.) but then hits hard with a jarring line like "They found another dead body in the alley."

All the emphasis on getting the realness down doesn't distract from Bridges's butter-smooth vocals and inventive phrasing. Instead, the understated arrangements allow us to really hear his voice, unadorned by excessive studio shaping.

His third--and best--album moves farther away from beat-oriented R&B toward music that's heavy guitars, sex and hazy Cali vibes.

Monds-Watson is startlingly accomplished for her age, showing a deft hand at songcraft.

The intimate collection of low-key art pop is gloriously weird and deeply human.

A raw masterstroke, A.L.L.A. is a depiction of underground millionaire culture that should have "think of the children" conservatives shitting their pants.

These are slow, sad ballads brilliantly executed.

Together, they sound kind of Bowie glam, kind of ELO, but never dated.

It opens with the aggressive, heady breakbeats of Gosh, and segues into songs heavy on his signature steel pans and clean productions that are sometimes dull in their tidy minimalism but ultimately contribute to a wistful atmosphere that's Smith's own.

The result is a kind of aggressively cute bubblegum trance that sounds like Aqua having a computer meltdown.

He projects a charismatic mix of youthful playfulness, cheeky confidence and naked vulnerability that would seem wasted on fun dance pop except that he does it so perfectly.