Romantic Piano is an endless reliquary of devotion, self-kindness and wonder; an impressive, beautiful third act for one of our most-daring and interesting songwriters.

This is a big-idea album in a way none of his work was before.

Two Hands does not dramatically depart from the mesmerizing folk-rock fusion of U.F.O.F., but its best moments emphasize the band’s gnarled electric energy, particularly on the career highlight “Not.”

Here, her wise brand of rock music blooms into something even more palpable, relatable and beautifully messy.

Aggression doesn’t fully return until nine tracks later on the aptly named instrumental “Trolla Gabba,” and then again on the back half of the title track. These explosions are among the album’s most riveting moments, but you have to clear the muck before you get to the fireworks. ... That effort eventually proves worthwhile: Many of the musical risks pay off once you get accustomed to the songs. And despite her occasional failures, Björk still illuminates enough of her story to remain compelling.

Pound for pound, Stern’s latest offering is as urgent and electrifying as anything she’s managed in the 16 years since her disarming debut.

It may be called The Moon and Stars, but June’s latest showing for Fantasy Records is music to consume while perched by a window fragmented with sunbeams. Just the sound of June’s voice is enough to defrost any lingering icy memories of a cruel winter.

On songs like these, she resists the temptation to play the spurned frontierswoman out for revenge. She’s a little wounded, a little scared, a little less of a caricature and a little more human.

Ultimately, it’s a credit to the band’s honesty and humility that even though they now find themselves on a higher plateau, they haven’t abandoned their rugged credo. One of their finest collective efforts so far--no small claim in itself--Volunteer clearly serves its purpose.

This Stupid World, the Hoboken trio’s first proper full-length in five years (not counting the ambient lockdown quickie We Have Amnesia Sometimes), is very good indeed, a dreamy and reflective song cycle that welcomes us into Yo La Tengo’s private world while leaving ample mysteries unexplained and secrets untold.

There’s a sense of purpose and forward motion on this record where old tracks had a feeling of circling in place until the tape eroded.

Here, they sound self-assured and steady, like a group that understands what they have and makes the most of it.

St. Vincent reaches, and while she doesn't quite find it throughout, listening to the reach is certainly more interesting than listening to an album that answers just one of the questions again and again and again.

The collection sounds like a deep dive into the ominous shuffling of Color’s outlier titular track, an ideal musical direction given the subject matter.

The Harrow & The Harvest is simply one of the richest, most expansive roots albums to be released in some time.

The tracks on async are more often gentle sighs of relief suffused with a reawakened wonderment at the beauty of simple sounds created by man made instruments and the natural world.

The cream of this set is the five full concerts captured at different junctions of the group’s existence. All are near perfect, breaking down with clarity how tightly controlled they approached live performance and elucidating how R.E.M. evolved from the jangle and fidget of Chronic Town to the agitated rock and lucid beauty of Accelerate. ... The set isn’t a complete picture of R.E.M.’s full evolution as it skips over the post-Reckoning years.

“one sick plan,” an acoustic performance presented through an intentionally lo-fi style that crackles like a demo and feels like a stick-figure drawing dropped into a pile of Picassos. It’s a good song, but an odd production choice. These are minor quibbles, of course, within the context of an otherwise brilliant work. basking in the glow is not only the fulfillment of the promise Lilitri showed on the yunahon mixtape, it’s one of the best pop-rock records of 2019.

The War on Drugs have continuously grown into fuller and more realized versions of themselves. I Don’t Live Here Anymore is fitting for their newest form: revered musicians with over a decade of quality music under their belts who never lost sight of the prize.

Carlisle’s third album doesn’t have the same sweeping scope as its predecessor, which was boisterous, messy and open-hearted on songs embracing a certain worldview: “Your Heart’s a Big Tent,” say, or “I Won’t Be Afraid.” In some ways, though, he digs deeper on Critterland, an album that is more about making the best of heavy circumstances.

Though High Violet lacks the front-to-back consistency that made Boxer such an unmitigated revelation, the new album's peaks absolutely rival Boxer's best tracks.

This is an emotionally multi-faceted album to luxuriate in.

The lack of universality to much of it keeps it from being the great album it wants to be, and some of the fascination seems to stem from 2013 celebrity culture obsession and speaks to the need to disappear from our own lives and become so wrapped up in the world of the rich and famous.

Hawley's empathic delivery reveals the indelible stamp these relationships leave on his protagonists' hearts. [Dec 2005, p.126]

Songs like “marjorie,” “happiness,” “closure” and “tolerate it,” all full of Swift’s hard-won wisdom, are the most representative of what evermore really is: a peacefully intimate record.

A preciously solemn soundtrack for blustery days. [Dec 2005, p.124]

Even putting aside his berserk, imagination-defying technical skill--he stays deep enough in the pocket to get lost there--there's not a wasted breath on R.A.P. Music.

On The Line, her best solo work to date, finds her trading chaos for peace and pain for parties. And West Coast rock combined with piano glam and Lewis’ lyrics makes for a most celebratory listen, indeed.