One of the year's most imaginative albums.

Case's overzealous self-production means there are layers upon layers to every track, which sometimes works to her detriment.

It's a lot to wrap your head around, especially given the brief run time, but it also hits with a powerful immediacy, even on first listen. Justifies the hype.

There is something especially poignant and inspired about his 12th studio album.

Even though not every twisted move they make on Third pays dividends, considering the stakes, consciously fucking with their formula is a bold gamble for which they should be saluted.

Some trendy lite disco and uplifting, singalong hooks give her voice more to compete with and play up the universality of experience, but Sullivan sounds better the more specific she gets.

I remember being disappointed after subsequently discovering Bleach, the band’s debut. It didn’t have Nevermind’s hooks, precise quiet/loud dynamics or Butch Vig’s glossy production. Years later, it’s those attributes that make Bleach so endearing.

The xx have always been concise pop songwriters, but now they seem interested in approaching the gates of pop nirvana.

His guttural howl on The Shrine/An Argument is the only moment when Helplessness Blues snaps out of its preciousness and hints that this genre can be more than a soundtrack to brunch.

Amidst the crushing avant-metal, we also get nods to classic rock, elegant instrumental work, searing lyrics and atmospheric keyboards.

Too few of the two dozen half-developed tracks here do justice to Smith's talent as a songwriter.

It contains some of her poppiest and funniest material to date, taking her minimal techno and Italo-esque electro rhythms into unabashedly melodic territory on the joyous So Right while swinging in the opposite direction with warehouse-friendly industrial sci-fi instrumentals Burn Me and Workaholic Paranoid Bitch.

When they do get adventurous and experimental, they execute it with such smoothness that even those moments of danger and excitement sound muted and safe. It's a solid disc, but you can't shake a sense that the Budos Band is capable of more.

Thematically he might travel into dark and desperate places, but the idea that one can find salvation in music is made vividly real by the rush of energy that is Atrocity Exhibition.

For long-time fans, this three-disc (or vinyl) release won’t disappoint, though it’s not a total departure.

This back and forth continues throughout the album and makes for a satisfying mix of clarity and perplexity. In the indie rock game, Grizzly Bear’s expansive scope is unmatched.

The album contains some indisputable classics (Here, Summer Babe, Shady Lane) but aims to dig deeper than the hits.

It's lush, sophisticated pastiche, best epitomized by debut single Running.

Throw in some elegant, economical strings arranged by Owen Pallett and touches of harmonica, vibraphone and sax and you’ve got the best 32 minutes of music you’ll hear anytime soon.

Most of its 10 songs last just two or three minutes. It's too good to be a mixtape and too short to be an album, raising the stakes even higher for the album proper.

But it’s when she cuts loose from the serene guitar-voice template also favoured by her like-minded collaborator Bahamas (whose Afie Jurvanen is credited as “senior advisor” here) that the album really shines. Lush strings (arranged by Lindeman) bring a new richness to the songwriting, while upbeat tracks like Kept It All To Myself and Complicit showcase more playful vocal turns (the latter closing with a choir of layered vocals) and dense, twangy melodies.

The goofier bits and sloppy sunshine pop moments are really what make this an interesting and complete album.

Blackheart is refreshingly unbeholden to the convention that requires R&B singers to balladeer non-stop at top volume.

There’s a reason why this Toronto band is capturing the imagination of critics and fans all over the world: they’ve reinvigorated the form and stretched its limits in genuinely novel ways, and for the most part their experiments actually hit their mark.

Old Ideas feels like you're hearing Cohen performing live at a small club with a top-notch band of veteran players, and this new level of intimacy suits him perfectly.

Plant's voice is noticeably lower than his salad-days falsetto, and Jimmy Page's guitar sounds slicker than before, but for the most part this is the Zeppelin of yore.

The songs on Elaenia sound closer to psychedelic jazz and post-rock, and feel more like improvised jam sessions than carefully sequenced electronic music. It's a risky strategy, but the gamble pays off big.

No doubt some of the album feels overly sanctimonious. ... And yet Tillman’s prophetic songwriting makes Pure Comedy one of the first--and best--post-Trump albums in what’s sure to be a long line over the next four years.