On The Way Out, their fourth and most dazzling work to date, the duo strikes an ideal balance between found-sound collage and original vocalizations.

03/07-09/07 offers a well-rounded introduction to the charming High Places.

It’s Marling’s sense of immediacy that makes Short Movie so evocative.

Her third album, Tomorrow’s Fire, is her best work. Leaning in harder than ever to rock music, the roiling catharsis so often found in Williams’ vocal performance now bleeds into the production. Tomorrow’s Fire is lean, clocking in at 34 minutes across 10 tracks, but Williams doesn’t waste a second of it

Jones and the Dap-Kings make the kind of music that moves them, and their feverish passion is contagious.

The time-tested tracks not only showcase the band doing what they do best in notoriously long, dramatic, panic-inducing instrumentals but are also startling reminders on why the band was so vital and lead such a movement to begin with.

Her music remains light with playful rhythms, but she keeps her songs controlled as if they were on a string, as well. If you're feeling brave it's a good listen for a quiet evening at home, but Tristen's study of the heart may be far too honest for some.

Maraqopa's experimentations aren't those of a young musician set loose in a studio full of new toys. Rather, with this newest release, Jurado demonstrates that, at this late date in his career, he may just be hitting his stride.

Blake has managed to create something new, balancing his understated vocals with funky, dub beats, synthesizers and a vocoder.

He rivets his limber flow to the beat and effortlessly produces the kind of good-natured braggadocio and gymnastic wordplay of his glory days.

Hadsel is the sound of a weary man dealing out his thoughts on a table in a cabin far away, and using extraordinary musicianship to put them in order. The result is a lush, majestic album.

Shelter may be a bit low key for some people’s liking. It’s more a Sunday morning record than one to affect a party vibe on Saturday night. Yet, when bit of solace is sought in the twilight time that follows, this Shelter provides a most pleasant respite.

The mixture of gentility and dissonance is somehow more unsettling than if Power was to go full on into harsher, angrier territory. The balance that he maintains throughout is what makes the album work.

The literate lyrics, his expressive voice, his knack for hummable melodies—suggest that he has fully arrived at the next phase of a career that continues to deliver songs worth hearing.

If the album has a weakness, it's too much sedate, midtempo consistency and not enough power in the power-pop; many tracks blur together, and the production ensures that tasty instrumental moments....Still, the pop landscape is littered with folks who wish they could deliver one or two tracks as good as the dozen found here.

Devils & Dust is remarkably self-contained and perfectly linear: here is the aftermath of The Rising, when the plains go quiet, the windows shut and we pray, pause, and plot our next move.

A unified effort from these two proven hip-hop vets. [Feb/Mar 2006, p.96]

The restless vibe to this ramshackle collection suggests Rawlings’ greatest trait is his wanderlust. It’s allowed him to work closely with a range of different artists in the past, and it makes A Friend of a Friend a spirited affair.

It is when the band—and Watt—evoke Pearl Jam’s stunning capacity to rage at the injustices of the world, invoking personal grievances in equal measure, that Dark Matter is at its best (see “React, Respond” and “Waiting For Stevie”), while less on-brand tracks like “Upper Hand,” which enters on a synthesizer intro, embrace novelty with mixed results.

Slow Club dials into emotions without having to be overbearing. There is plenty of substance to latch onto on this album that leaves you wanting more.

Like every Punch Brothers album, The Phosphorescent Blues is defined by technical chops. But its lyrical focus offers a vibrant edge over its predecessors.

Androgynous Mary is as morbid of a record as you’d expect from a bunch of L.A. punks. They’re disturbed, but entertained; they’re young, but disillusioned. If Androgynous Mary were a place, it would probably be a strange corner in the dark web controlled by Zoomers with good intentions and confused brains.

Another Self Portrait is absolutely essential listening for Bob Dylan fans. It may contain the best music you’ll hear all year.

Nothing short of breathtaking. [#14, p.119]

Price has definitely upended expectations, by gutting her way through the disappointment, self-doubt and financial peril of a musician hoping for a break. She’s earned hers, to be sure, but That’s How Rumors Get Started suggests that she’s still getting her bearings after such a tumultuous ride.

Making up for lost time never sounded so good. [Aug 2006, p.88]

While it occasionally loses itself in the past, Old Flowers doesn’t rely solely on nostalgia for its power. Andrews never wallows. She is somehow able to be both full of regret and gratitude at the same time. At its very best, Old Flowers recalls the melancholy piano sing-song of Tapestry and the forlorn love songs of country greats like Emmylou Harris and Linda Rondstadt.

The Lion's Roar is a gorgeous record and a spectacular follow-up to their 2010 debut.

Its expertise at majestic drone remains, but the group colors outside of well-established lines this time around, pounding on tribal drums during 'Gobbledigook,' smearing swaths of mellotron across 'Fljótavík' and 'Straumnes,' and pulling back on its patented reverb in favor of crisp, clean lines.

It’s like the hangover lifted. He’s finally able to remove his sunglasses and nod to the light of true pop accessibility.

It may rank as one of their best outings yet, as its multifaceted compositional creativity, coupled with its consistently fetching melodies and words, makes it a thoroughly impressive and engaging listen. As always, Sparks shows its stylistic siblings how it’s truly done.

It’s goofy, yet sexy, accessible and experimental, and often all at once.

On II, Bad Books have proven that they are more than Manchester Orchestra with Kevin Devine or vice versa by dropping any ego and making a cohesive record. Thankfully, all of us reap the benefit.

The magic moments found on Untouchable speak to Kelly’s swaggering confidence--as if that weren’t perhaps alluded to enough in the album’s very title. As a result, the ambitiousness of his work seems increasingly more destined to join the canon of timeless pop from which The Cairo Gang’s songs find their roots.

The comfort that Lage and his bandmates evince needs those small shakeups to keep from devolving into something pleasant but unengaging. The trio toes that line at times on this new release without completely falling into pure background fodder. It’s a delicate balance that only the best players could attain. Time will tell if they can maintain it.

Though Mangy Love is well constructed, the album at times has a slippery feel, and some of the songs can just slide by without making the impression it seems like they should.

For the most part, the songs are compact, with only the closing instrumental, “Weekend Wind,” passing the six-minute mark. Jeremy Earl’s falsetto is at its most confident and versatile, gliding over tunes that explore the headspace newfound fatherhood has brought him.

Logos is still a predominantly insular affair and all the better for it, with his aching melodies and ethereal arrangements pushing open the doors to a remarkably vivid inner world.

Cole’s experiences in rehab became the inspiration for the group’s latest record, Deceiver, and while the album displays the group’s darkest sound yet, it also ends up being their most earnest.

By connecting so well with one another, MICHELLE reach listeners in a singular and effortlessly listenable way.

If you don’t like country music, don’t bother. But if you do have an ear for Waylon and Willie and the boys, then you’ll find plenty to love.

There’s a subtle, but detectable, undercurrent of joy here—not in the subject matter, but in the music itself, as if each song represents a little burst of gratitude shared among the musicians who made it. That Wilco can still summon that sense of buoyancy on their 11th album should be gratifying to listeners, too. It’s a sign that the band continues to grow and evolve, which makes these songs a fitting ode indeed.

Though devoid of obvious lyrical or sonic cartwheels, Blue Raspberry’s calm, steady sense of purpose carries through, creating a gorgeous, ruminative contemplation on queer desire that will leave longtime fans and new listeners alike bobbing their heads—and reaching for their thesauruses.

Rootsier than his self-titled debut and all the stronger for it, Livingston’s latest dials back the busy modern rock production and psych-blues noise to reveal songwriting that is more classic yet less predictable, and enchanting in its spare intimacy.

Oh My God, the dizzying and fantastic fifth album from the increasingly prolific folk-rocker, is preoccupied with the language of exaltation, from its gospel-choir refrains to its outrageous album cover, which depicts Morby, shirtless, posing beneath a famous painting of Saint Cecilia playing piano for the angels. Somehow, none of this scans as ironic or overtly hokey.

On their second album, Sheer Mag keep proving that raging against the system can also be a raging party. Much like Halladay, the band itself is a piece of coal that, under pressure, has emerged in its true form: a glittering diamond.

She may not be the most compelling lyricist among her peers, and her melodies place her squarely in the middle of the pack, but when she’s at her best, her sparkly songs reach incredibly catchy heights and exude clarity about a confusing time in one’s life. With Fake It Flowers, she’s on the cusp of something great, and only time will tell which side she falls on.

Along with the mesmerizing musical arrangements, what makes Carvings compelling is the balance Habel finds between acknowledging the fleeting span of any one life, and her determination to find meaning in the transience. In that regard, Carvings is at once a eulogy and a celebration.

Here, Clark’s lyrics are less overtly clever than on her debut, and they’re more deeply buried in layers of her spastic instrumentation. Nonetheless, they suggest a subtle, abstract intelligence.

Mostly, it’s just an intense record, one that beckons listeners to sit down with the liner notes and lyrics, much like the canon of poetry off of which it’s based.

This band can make a brisk song feel expansive, and it knows how to inject a slow song with unmistakable urgency. You don’t learn how to do that... or at least it’s not easy to learn it. You just have it. Gun Outfit has it, and they wield it with great skill.

Weird Faith is a level up in every regard for Madi Diaz, and it’s hard to see a world where it doesn’t accomplish the goal of raising her profile.

It simply does what CHVRCHES have always done, but it falls short of reaching the exciting thrills of their earlier work. Rather than distilling their sound into its most captivating components, Screen Violence retreads already well-trodden territory.

For the ruminating about the world and wanderlust, lullaby’s potency comes from affairs of the heart, love lost and sought, and the jagged loneliness of failing to stay bonded.

Empath’s mix of melody and noise is so effective, it’s not hard at all to squint a little bit at Visitor and see the potential for some sort of breakthrough success for this band.

A compelling collision of listenable and clever. [Dec 2006, p.97]

The music, however, remains sophisticated and rhythmically feisty (pun thoroughly intended) even when so thoroughly keyed down.

Dragonslayer eschews this cluttered approach, instead skittering through extended suites of build/release/build riff-rock that often leave Krug’s melody lines with no flint to start a fire.

As with everything Lee put his songwriting mind and hands to, though, his original work quickly overshadows any marks of inspiration on these tunes.

On Harmony of Difference, Washington’s work remains as substantial and compelling as ever, and with any luck this EP is setting the scene for another, longer release from him soon.

W portends a bright future for Boris, even this late into their career. If their new material is any indication, they may never run out of ideas.

While 40-plus minutes of these experiments may start to drag, Liars' ability to work in hooks and structure to oddball electronic music is both admirable and pleasantly surprising.

Ryder-Jones is trying to put himself back together throughout the lines of Yawn, but his affecting songs, nostalgia-swathed observations and unabashed vulnerability will inadvertently help you heal too.

Mutt is a mess of an album, but I mean that in the best way possible.

Where Schlagenheim felt serrated and sharp-edged and packed tight with grooves, Cavalcade feels brooding and explorative. It’s wordy and lyric-minded, with long, serpentine narratives that unfold like shape-shifting fruit roll-ups.

If there are any complaints, it’s that the arrangements are so elaborate they distract from Berman’s droll verse, but for anyone who’s wondered what Berman might sound like working with a full sonic palette, Tanglewood Numbers provides a definitive, satisfying answer.

July Flame is carefully composed, ever-deepening, glinting and glowing in new ways each time it’s played; there’s an inkling of something greater coming just around the bend, but for now it’s Veirs’ finest work.

For those who cherished the late, great Go-Betweens, Galaxie 500 and The Zombies, take heart--here is your new favorite album, filled to bursting with shivering tremolo guitars, surrealist poetry and the sort of melodies that made the kids’ knees buckle whenever “Time of the Season” graced the airwaves.

It’s all over the place in the best possible way.

Some of the most expressive tracks of Low's career. [Apr 2007, p.57]

After 11 tracks of carefree sex jams, it’s good to hear the guy stretching himself into a different direction. That’s something Miguel has always done, sonically speaking. And he always sounds amazing doing it; that hasn’t changed on War & Leisure.

Britpop’s giants are back, and they sound surprisingly the way we had hoped they would: melodic, contemplative and content as a single unit.

In terms of mere diversion, though, the perfectly titled Hold On Now, Youngster… is best administered in small amounts; otherwise, you run the risk of overdose.

Thanks to a rich sonic palette and more dynamic songwriting, they’ve turned in their best collection of jangly indie rock songs so far.

While no one will accuse him of deserting his shoegaze stance entirely, he does opt for a more approachable embrace that finds even the most subdued selections building with majesty and momentum. It’s a glorious effect, one that resonates in ways both illuminative and affecting all at the same time.

The Neon Skyline is another pleasant journey lovingly crafted by Shauf. He has once again proven himself to be up there with maple syrup, Ryan Gosling and Schitt’s Creek as one of Canada’s greatest exports.

angeltape presents a darkened canvas of experimental rock, showcasing Drahla plunging into the depths of their elaborate and existential craft.

If you like to move, En Yay Sah is a must-listen.

Cox blends rock instruments with organs, harps and his haunting, languid voice, and the result is a gentle, richly textured wall of sound.

While casual fans may miss the novelty of the duo’s more familiar classic-rock covers, these 11 originals show the duo expanding its sonic palette.

This Is The Kit have found a way to stay true to their style in a way that doesn’t feel forced or boring.

It's the seamless simplicity in which the record flows that defines this masterful debut.

A smoke break’s worth of Molina songs every few years is not enough. They’re that good. And they’re better than ever on his new album Kill the Lights, which finds him adding full-band arrangements and electricity back into his songs and steering straight into pop-rock heaven.

Savage Mode II is a worthy successor to the original, building on that initial moment that made 21 Savage a household name. Adventurous, introspective, and thoughtful, it’s just what the world needs from the rapper at this moment, even if we didn’t know it.

It's a wonderfully weird parade of sonic delights: an arresting consummation of the Lips' two-and-a-half decade career.

Pusha T paints a vivid picture of the things he knows best throughout My Name Is My Name.

The Glowing Man is the most formless of these records--light on groove but long on drifting passages that require leviathan feats of patience to endure.

Gold-Diggers Sound is yet another graceful, often captivating deviation from the retro path most critics probably expected him to stick with.

As it progresses, CYRK loses some of its musical and descriptive vitality, but Le Bon lingers over these physical depictions, lending her songs a beguiling tactility as well as a strong gravity.

The production is thick but elegant, applied with full knowledge that the songs could exist beautifully in a sparse acoustic-strummed daze, but that they deserve more than that.

Whether you’re honing in on the brilliant lyricism or simply soaking in the aural wonders of this minimalistic folk album, there’s plenty to fall in love with about Bad Debt.

Fortunately, Darnielle's writing usually carries it, grounding his songs to keep them memorable and offer entryways back into something that continually seeks the transcendence its title suggests.

A Weird Exits can be a trying album, requiring the listener to tumble through several disorienting sonic rabbit holes. The reward, however, is emerging from the other side of this wild ride with stories and theories as to what exactly went down between the channels of your headphones.

This could be considered their mature album, but the Mods don’t sound the least bit worn out. Less sweary, maybe, though no less profane.

It’s as lively a rock album as you’ll hear this year.

Goat Girl remain just as captivating as they were amid the spiky guitar and haunting harmonies of their first album, but have made incredible strides in just a couple years.

Though Microcastle is hardly straightforward, it’s an aggressive step toward the mainstream that sacrifices none of Deerhunter’s woozy adventurousness.

The production is bright and clear, and the arrangements showcase the star.