You can hear allusions Dylan has made to some of these lyrics in his own work over the last few decades, which makes the collection all the more revelatory. And he sings as gorgeously and clearly as he possibly can, as if it’s more important to him than ever that we feel his love.

He delivers a tour de force on each track, solidifying his rep as one of the most dynamic performers in pop.

A new urgency and immediacy provide welcome counterpoint to the reserved Canadian introspection that still characterizes their songs.

Tell Me How You Really Feel is her most inward-looking album but also one that pulls back to engage with bigger political and cultural conversations more directly than we’re used to from her.

Once you get past the placid bit at the beginning, it's straight into the relentlessly pummelling assault we've come to love and expect from the mighty Japanese trio, and Pink's wallop-per-second rate puts it in a class with Heavy Rocks at the top of the Boris heap.

Yes, the angsty lyrics are occasionally comprehensible and the songs, which sometimes push past the three-minute mark, have slightly more breathing room, but the chilly, irritated scrape is just as potent.

The production is unpolished, warm and organic. It had to be. When you hear the pained fury in his rendition of Black Sabbath's Changes, it's clear it would be an affront to modernize Bradley's unvarnished howls.

Musically, it’s quiet and reserved, making for a subtle but satisfying listen.

While there's definitely some anger here, Pujol seems to make equal use of pure adolescent joy, and you soon realize that his nerdier tendencies are what holds all of this together.

Levi pulls off his flamboyant persona because he has the meticulously structured songs to carry it.

Practically every bar the 21-year-old spits is full of fiery indignation, aimed not just at exposing (and undermining) entrenched social hierarchies, but at the insecurities that might also hold her back.

This time around, the lo-fi quality is less abrasive but still dirty and intimate enough to stop anyone from yelling Sell out!

It’s not a perfect record, but nothing this ambitious was ever going to be.

The less experimental C'mon is confident and warm, suggesting that the band let the reverberant setting dictate the tone.

The way Ought confront modern bleakness is understandably disaffected but ultimately moving and celebratory, in the idealistic tradition of punk.

The writing here is sharp and stunning, but the real difference between this and other Cat Power discs is that The Greatest has room to breathe.

That the songs retain their vibrancy and ambition with this new energy – more focused, less stridently theatrical – is a testament to her songwriting and enduring appeal.

Dedicated to friend and colleague Vic Chesnutt, Lambchop's 11th album is as refined and dignified as the top-hat-wearing gentleman depicted on the cover.

Beach Slang are doing this as much for us as for themselves, and if you're down with them, it's hard not to feel awesome listening to this album.

Auerbach delivers the goods with spooky, sleazy and soulful style.

A few, like Lion In Winter Pt. 1 and 12-minute closer In The Beginning Is The End, test your patience, while others, like Nova Anthem and Lamb, become so surprisingly transcendent that they vanquish any and all tedium.

YG may just want to party, but the layered storytelling displayed here proves he could be the next transcendent, endlessly original West Coast superstar.

As each conflicting quality is reconciled, it’s never compromised or downplayed. They sound both aware of and immersed in the culture surrounding them while fully settled into their own reality as billionaires. In essence, they are Black, rich and famous, in that order.

Listening is like slowly sinking into a warm bath, then gradually adding rose petals, bubbles, arsenic. But Majical Cloudz never let you drown.

Assume Form doesn’t have the instant gratification of his 2013 album, Overgrown--arguably his best--but it gradually pulls you in like a soothing balm. ... It’s still a James Blake record, but with brighter synths and more natural instruments. Any moments of darkness are balanced with light.

Short of pumping dry ice through your speakers, The Eldritch Dark captures the throbbing, gloomy energy that has long made Blood Ceremony one of the city’s finest live acts.

Better than anything they've done to date.

The production does justice to the 80s-underground-evoking mix of surf, punk, industrial and shoegaze.

Whether howling eerily over a low, rhythmic pulse or riding a huge riff, Calvi's sensuous presence brings much-needed sexual heat to today's tepid rock 'n' roll landscape.

Kid Koala might be known for his light-hearted approach, but nothing here feels inappropriately kooky.

You'll want to let the whole record play, but Refill, Land Ahoy! and Mekons' anthemic Beaten And Broken (sung by Fulks) are highlights.

On Hot Dreams he’s wisely pulled back from that horror film soundtrack vibe to let the songs breathe.

Despite ups and downs, Suede have remained an impressively robust-sounding live act, and that energy comes across in Night Thoughts.

Lyrically Ditto is in top form, striking a sage tone to dish out relationship advice (I Wrote The Book), console a friend (Do You Need Someone) and reprimand an ex-lover (Open Heart Surgery).

This is an album about feeling good, and the freewheeling abandon .Paak brings to his delivery is matched by Knxwledge, who keeps up with him by absorbing as many sounds, voices, eras and influences as he can.

It’s more polished than most S-K albums, but it’s still a flurry of frenetic chords, caustic drum beats and yelps and hisses from Carrie Brownstein and Tucker. Clark gave The Center Won’t Hold a very modern filter and sheen, but Sleater-Kinney still set the tone.

A couple of lifeless slower numbers bring the album to a crawl midway through, but they ultimately add balance to all the smart, uptempo rockers.

The album contains some of her best lyrics.

The album is as focused as its predecessor (both are 45 minutes), but it is emotionally more expansive.

While Visions is unmistakably 2012 sonically in its references to R&B and hip-hop, it also fits remarkably gracefully into 4AD's impressive back catalogue of dream pop.

On their fourth album, the goal continues to be to outdo themselves in terms of heavier-than-thou riffs, thundering drums and ominous aggression.

Every element is given space to shine--a nice break from the overproduced bedroom-recording sound that's become standard in indie rock.

Happy New Year is unpretentiously unique, challenging and eclectic.

[Drummer Mimi Parker's] songs, like the uncharacteristically jaunty, slowly swelling Just Make It Stop, are the highlights.

While their performance is expansive and parts are definitely stretched out and rocked out, like on I Will Sing You Songs and Mahgeetah, this is just solid performing, not lame jam band shit.

Each song has bite, but every sound on Soul Power is kept fairly mellow.

The dizzying array of styles and themes always entertain, and D.R.A.M.’s confidence as both a singer and rapper allows him to pull these threads together.

It's a remarkably controlled album that reveals layers of texture with every listen.

Listen to House Of Balloons, Thursday and Echoes Of Silence in one go and you'll find that the music remains impressive. If there's one quibble, it's that as Trilogy enters its second hour, Tesfaye's lyrical ambivalence begins to sound a bit one-note.

It is a strikingly unique take on soul music in a year when there's a lot of competition from other R&B artists pushing the genre's boundaries.

Vapours dutifully recognizes the playful history of the group and, with the re-addition of drummer Jamie Thompson, is sure to appease followers and win over new listeners.

Lends itself to numerous repeat listens and laughs.

What a joyously juddering load of comical clatter it is.

Sequels rarely outdo the original, and despite The Game naming Kendrick Lamar his successor years ago, The Documentary 2 and 2.5 prove he's far from over.

He allows the various sounds, guest features and flavours of the production, which he and his crew adopted from all over the world, to steal the show.

Isis’s four previous full-lengths have clear story arcs, but Wavering Radiant’s themes are open to interpretation, giving it added appeal. Close to perfect.

His focus on high-quality, vintage synth sounds gives the songs a unique flavour and energy that are hard to resist.

That the music of Beyond rocks so righteously in a way that sounds like a conscious progression from where they left off with Bug, rather than a misguided attempt to recreate the past, makes this unlikely recording comeback all the more incredible.

As its cover and length (the usual eight songs) suggest, Near To The Wild Heart Of Life is unquestionably a Japandroids album. Some may yearn for more of Celebration Rock’s high voltage, but by changing gears they’ve added more depth and variation to those shout-along choruses we love so much.

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

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.

The rollicking and densely layered samples send Muldrow--whose vocal style draws from jazz, soul and gospel--in an unabashedly funky direction, resulting in some of her most emotionally satisfying vocal arrangements and full-throttle rock 'n' roll dramatics to date.

Biophilia is one of Bjork's best and most challenging records; it's in a galaxy all its own, one that's not for the faint of heart.

Gesundheit's tunes have an intimate lullaby quality, like a more playful Julie Doiron, and her airy voice sends them into flight. She has amazing range, inventive melodies and vivid lyrics held steady by her plucking guitar.

Her strong voice (think Kim Deal or Liz Phair) remains the focal point, though wild guitars and thunderous drumming give it the foundation it needs to soar.

Alsina’s narrative-driven niche is criminally underrepresented on the pop charts right now. Judging by the way he effectively turns his wounded past into the catalyst for a bright future--he has potential to dominate the lane.

As always, these include gorgeous guitar playing and pristinely arranged harmonies, and the gospel-inflected moments are especially effective.

Master Volume is a delightful, precise record. The band are at the top of their game on it, but it still feels like a no-stakes basement jam session between three friends. Maybe that’s why they’re so contagious: the Nil aren’t for the culture, they’re for the kids.

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.

His latest disc could be his best yet.

With fewer experimental throwaways, the album puts the band's best foot forward: toe-tapping, harmony-laden kernels of pop.

They’ve become better musicians, better songwriters and better at expressing life’s frustrations without jeopardizing too much of what made them so cherished in the beginning.

The 17 tracks emphasize the latter half of his career, but he’s toned down his more avant-garde tendencies somewhat and injected a bit of R&B swing and jazz vibes.

Its low frequencies, irregular rhythms and slow-burning dance beats creep into the songs and draw us in deeper.

A well-considered 10-track song cycle of mostly shorter and tighter compositions that combine the catchy, guitar-oriented pop aspects of Ta Det Lugnt ... with the darker freak-folk stylings of 2002's Stadsvandringar.

Girls' have traded their early work's immediacy for something that requires more patience but goes much deeper if you've got the time.

Impressively, the album was recorded in a day, and it swells with atmosphere.

Schmilco is also sly and great, but superficially it feels like complex, mid-life personal stocktaking.

While the Jesus and Mary Chain might have been limited by their musical ability and knowledge, Merritt and company understand the pop principles they’re working with.

They're all talented musicians, so it's actually a pleasure to hear them go off on the occasional jazz fusion tangent, which they approach with the raw enthusiasm of a garage-punk band (except that they sound closer to King Crimson).

Sure, stripped-down, acoustic versions of the songs could’ve worked, but with help from producer Richard Swift, they’re fleshed out into psychedelic dreams dappled with field recordings, Latin guitar and Jurado’s serene vocals, raising existential questions that don’t quite get answered.

While it doesn't mine new territory, Restarter is the sound of Torche getting comfortable and digging in their heels.

Led by Patton’s smarmy vocals and the band’s intricately heavy instrumentation, Oddfellows cuts a swath between infectious bangers (Stone Letter, South Paw) and quirky atmospherics.

Occasionally Half Free can sound dense to the point of being vexing, but its vivid imagery and striking melodies keep Remy’s more self-indulgent tendencies grounded in a classic pop sensibility.

A stellar offering.

The more steeped Hozier gets in Southern influence the better: slow, hymnal Work Song disguises a love ballad as a spiritual to blissful effect, a perfect showcase for his rich, resonant alto.

This is instant vintage.

They're the kinds of songs that make you want to run into the street and scream to the universe that life is beautiful and magical, which is a pretty nice feeling as long as you can stop worrying about whether people think you're crazy.

Quirky melodies and unpredictable, anti-country structures make it interesting over repeat listens. A mid-career triumph.

From the church-bell-ringing, banjo-plucking funereal title track opener to the into-the-sunset Hawaiian ballad Aloha Oe that closes the album in perfect cinematic form, Cash sounds completely at ease, and wholly preoccupied, with the approach of his own death.

The main attraction is still Baird's and Weeks's haunting voices, which turn a risky experiment into a genre-defining classic.

Psychedelic Pill is exactly the kind of noisy, joyfully loose and oddly hypnotizing guitar album we love Crazy Horse for.

Although the first half relies on straight-up classic house beats and lyric imperatives to be stronger, work harder and get higher, they upend the formula with an oddball-pop sensibility, beautifully crafted melodies and general silliness.

A diasporic pop beacon for those of us from neither here nor there.

Hero Brother is a beautiful collection of experimental instrumental songs.

13 exuberant folk-pop songs delivered with clarity, colour and conviction.

This isn’t Drake at his most exposed.... Production-wise, however, it’s his most mature, and frankly, most beautiful.

Boucher's production prowess, beautifully complex and ambitious songwriting, is self-evident on Miss Anthropocene.