It’s a quietly sublime work from a group of musicians who have always insisted--via their straight-up goofy music videos, Budweiser references and substitute teacher-like appearances--they’re just average suburbanites.

To be sure, Juice B Crypts contains many moments of unabashed oddness as well, but in allowing for a sharper contrast between the odd and the beautiful this time, Battles ultimately get further with both.

The more charming pockets found within The Narcissist II's peculiar symmetry are worth waiting for, so long as you're willing to suspend your disbelief long enough to ingest the entire record. Otherwise, you might be missing the point.

Death Song, their fifth full-length, is both unlike anything they’ve done before and also the most purely Black Angels album they have released.

The result is a new record that has the warmth, remembrance and intimacy of a photo album, one with which Cahoone charmingly invites you to get to know her a little better.

Get There, is a thoughtful, interesting record (about what it means to be thoughtful and interesting).

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.

Soft Airplane is a little scary (and dark and dank), yet filled with untold creative surprises and delights.

For those who self-identify as Tom Waits Fans, Glitter and Doom Live succeeds on pretty much every level.

While most tracks are easy enough to hum along to, laced with warm banjo and pretty keys, it’s the unexpected explosions of warped guitar solos that make Lady Lamb’s softer moments standout--and the album as a whole succeed.

At just 36 minutes, it’s her shortest record thus far, but it’s simultaneously Marling’s most straightforward, musically simplistic record to date and her most beautiful release yet.

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.

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

Ultimately, Raitt remains utterly herself.

With alt-country lyrics that are more Tom Waits than Guy Clark, Hayes Carll continues to impress, giving us more to think about than just honky tonks and heartaches.

Her voice instantly captivates, radiating both power and sophistication on 11 tracks that vary wildly in tone.

Devine blends folk, punk, rock and pop sounds into songs with intricate guitar parts reminiscent of Elliott Smith and flowing melodies that can’t help but stay in your head.

Nootropics, the latest record from Baltimore quintet Lower Dens, connects layered loops and trippy chants with catchy rock 'n' roll arrangements, delivering a pure punch of sonic bliss.

It's Kafka meets Mahler at the hipster club, and it's easily one of the musical highlights of the year.

There’s a rockabilly feel alongside soul and even country, but no one genre is discernible for long. It’s as if The Mountain Goats contain multitudes and so can you.

The album’s features are among the best in the Weeknd catalogue, highlighting love and loss spanning decades.

These pseudo-mashups expand Elverum’s vision to a Cinerama-like depth of field with the picture beautifully warping around the edges. Whatever Elverum’s true intentions with this release, it certainly has a welcome place in his vast and varied discography.

Emanuel Lundgren has a rare knack for catchy melodies and bouncy rhythms that grab the ear, and also for arrangements that enlarge these simple elements into the enveloping emotional weather accompanying these tug-of-wars between adolescence and adulthood, escapism and reality.

It’s their most immediate album--but not necessarily their simplest.

Charli is a more-than-worthy follow-up to arguably the decade’s best pop release.

With Hayter’s intentions fully understood, Sinner Get Ready not only gains more gravity acting on the guillotine blade as it comes down, but the head that it intends to decapitate has a face that we all can now recognize.

From a purely sonic standpoint, these new versions are impossible to disregard.... The bonus material on Led Zeppelin II and III is more revelatory, showcasing the band’s creative process through assorted alternate takes and rough mixes.

With a little luck, this collection of mostly obscure covers could, on a smaller scale, do for Dando what the Rick Rubin-helmed American Recordings did for Johnny Cash.

Though its 14 tracks were recorded sporadically across something like three years with co-producer Mike Mogis, you’d be hard-pressed to hear a lack of momentum or consistency.

Not to Disappear is everything you could want from a sophomore release. It’s got enough of the debut in it that you’re getting what you came for with a ton of surprises to make sure you keep going on this journey with them from here on out.

He has wound up producing an album that transcends much of the typical hype bullshit and seems destined to stand as a unifying record, leaving no one asking for Danny Brown’s resume when he receives his share of the spotlight, making his sense of humor an ingredient rather than the whole meal.

A deeply internalized album, it’s The National at their Nationalest. It is, as well, a collection of songs about songs: clever but not meta, and thankfully never cute or self-impressed.

It’s easy to coast, but Bitchin Bajas consistently strive. It’s a pleasure to try to keep up with ‘em.

He isn’t interested in avoiding the unsavory details of life— instead, he finds ample space on Negro Swan to indulge them. Perhaps too little are those works that refuse to address the anxieties and gifts of black queerness, to turn its pains into pleasure the way Hynes does. It’s a habit shared by indefinable virtuosos like Prince or Michael Jackson; Negro Swan, like its 2016 predecessor Freetown Sound, proves that Hynes is of their caliber.

The foursome weave a dizzying web of traditions into their own rough-hewn sound, dragging vestiges of alt-rock, punk and blues through the mud to achieve an album rife with brash dissonance.

It's this combination of lo-fi sounds and lyrical complexity that makes Cape Dory a great debut record.

Tucked in among the record’s memorable melodies, clever arrangements and impressive guests are a steady stream of details that lend plainspoken perspective to Bridgers’ emotional highs and (mostly) lows. These kinds of details ground her work in the same way shading makes a still life painting pop. They make them feel not just sad, but real.

By opening up, by giving a glimpse into the heart behind those heart-stopping melodies, Newman's written his best songs in nearly a decade.

Bruner’s playing—and, increasingly, his writing as well—is so distinctive he’s able to own it even as he tones down his outsize personality. Many modern artists have mined these sounds, but few have honored them quite like Bruner does on It Is What It Is.

Vile’s insight is the relaxed current on which It’s A Big World floats, an unexpected testament to one of the year’s best albums, and a compelling work of its own.

While The New Pornographers’ appealing quirks abound, their melodic gifts rightfully steal the show.

Giannascoli’s work stands on its own, never more so than on Rocket, a 14-track travelogue of the 24-year-old’s varied interests.

Not Dark Yet is too harrowing to pass for casual entertainment, and too good to ignore.

It cements Tillman’s place among the best singer/songwriters around. It’s gorgeous. It’s heartbreaking. It’s timeless. It’s the sound of an artist who really went for it and succeeded wholeheartedly.

Her boiled up fury and velvety voice pair together to make something special, resulting in the album that Del Rey would kill to make.

Eschewing Smithsonian properness, Remedy channels youth in all its freewheeling glory.

he made an indie pop album for music fans. He went for our hearts rather than our heads, and, for a band as cerebral as Deerhunter can be, that’s its own kind of artistic evolution.

Tell Tale Signs subtly makes a good argument that Dylan’s later work is richer than expected.

The songs Jarosz wrote herself more pull their own weight. The eleven originals bubble with questions, toe-tapping impatience and a dreamy yearning, and they're strung through with twinge of poignancy that's completely refreshing.

The most remarkable thing about The King, however, is that its synthesis of sound and vision makes it feel so thoroughly like a monumental record.

Whether imitation is truly the sincerest form of flattery―and other cliches―as it pertains to this third album in the Foxygen catalog is up for debate. If it’s some secret genius, the jury is still decidedly out. Either way, you’ll want to hear this one for yourself.

It turns out the two are even better in cahoots than they are solo, each buttressing the other with her own set of complementary idiosyncrasies.

The album is a call to the kind of funk that closes over your head like too much champagne. Undulating, fizzy, and almost light-headed, this is music to induce a euphoria that lifts skirts and spirits.

Working out of his home studio, Sweet--joined by drummer Ric Menck and multi-instrumentalist Greg Leisz--nails every sonic nuance, buried under cumulous clouds of glorious boy/girl harmonies.

It’s what you should put on when you don’t want to think; aggressive, enveloping, and with just enough of a bite to corroborate your deeply held belief that you’re not one of them.

There’s such a charming muscle being flexed here that you might not even immediately realize that, beneath massive hooks, Yard Act are performing an exorcism on the ever-so universal fixation creatives have on shit-talk outmaneuvering praise.

The songwriting across all 11 tracks is accessible and familiar—and yet, Cilker’s world that she’s created is fully under the rule of her genius penmanship. It’s sharp and far-ranging; anyone who has run from something can tap in and find ecstasy; anyone who has stayed put can achieve the same baroque fate.

The Things We Do is a record for anyone who’s ever felt, even for a moment, that music is what matters the most. For any hard-luck kid or nowhere bum who needs it, that escape is heaven.

On Tiger there's more than a whiff of tequila in the air-yellowy-green shots knocked back fast followed by hazy mornings filled with nagging regrets. This could perhaps be considered "folk" in some generous sense of the word, but let's not be afraid to call it what it really is: unbridled, unselfconscious, swirling, head-pounding pop.

Across 11 tracks, 3D Country is gnarled, chaotic and vibrant. But, what’s potentially the most-shattering truth of all is that, amid all of this charismatic, wholehearted sonic anarchy, Geese have only just begun.

He’s just a great singer, backed by great players he puts to good use on a set of sticky, deceptively inventive songs

The album is a fascinating look at the inherent danger of technological oversaturation and the detachment that comes with it.

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.

At only 43 minutes, the album can take a few listens for adjustment. Like no other rock in 2016, Jessica Rabbit is rife with worthwhile whiplash, with some of Derek Miller’s best riffs no longer taking center stage in front the songwriting.

Nothing's Gonna Change... is ultimately the kind of album you can curl up into, let the warm tones surround you and rest easy.

What’s here is an excellent start. This collection gives a sense of the scope of Strummer’s career, and the passion with which he pursued it.

Given Ben Keith's death last year, it's the perfect merge: Young's rough-hewn organics and the raucous Crazy Horse.

Each track doesn’t just bleed into the next, they hemorrhage into one another like the elevators at the Overlook Hotel.

As powerful a witness for the region--Memphis, Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas--as it is a lovely quilt of musicality, braiding blues, folk, Appalachia, rock and old-timey country, this is balm for lost souls, alienated creatures seeking their core truths and intellectuals who love the cool mist of vespers in the hearts of people they may never encounter.

The best pure indie-pop record of 2018 (so far) is not from Brooklyn or Glasgow or Melbourne or Olympia but Busan, South Korea. The album, Where We Were Together from the band Say Sue Me, is a perfectly paced fusion of jangling guitars, bouncing bass and sighed melancholy.

La vita nuova sounds like a collection of essentials for a soon-to-be prolific artist.

As far as box sets go, Against the Odds is a textbook example of how to do justice to a band’s legacy.

There’s certainly a sense of urgency here, and also sublime moments on songs that overlay beauty with turbulence in a way that suggests an anguished soul reaching for solace amid turmoil.

Every Bad is the nuanced album that indie rock has needed for years.

Dormarion should leave returning fans satisfied and new listeners hooked as Lerner continues to refine his skills and churn out strong albums.

This an indie record for the ages, a wonderful listen where each song is completely essential to the project as a whole. Midnight is an incredible record, owing, but in no way indebted to her pitch perfect partnership with Toledo, one that’s further catapulted by Chura’s distinctive voice and extraordinary songwriting chops.

Never quite forsaking what brought them, they’ve created a new world for post-country country--as musically satisfying as it is hormone-peaking.

This is a terrific, cohesive album that reconsiders past glories, reaffirms old obsessions and reflects on his waning days.

That such a simple record, short on frills and long on naked aesthetic, offers such impact in a world of machined pop and beat-driven urban music speaks volumes for the power of stripping things back, then letting the talent shine.

The album will satisfy those wondering whether the band can achieve the nosebleed heights of its formidable back catalog, and it’s once again evident that Ashcroft needs guitarist Nick McCabe, bassist Simon Jones and drummer Peter Salisbury to keep his shamanistic flights of fancy tethered to earth.

Bridgers stans a noirish, haunting, folk-pop, Baker an emotionally-scorching rock and Dacus a literary take on guitar music. On boygenius, however, the three become one, miraculously and pristinely so. Bridgers, Baker and Dacus pack a novel’s worth of narrative and as many masterful melodies (not to mention harmonies) into just 21 minutes that will leave you feeling as if you’ve had the wind knocked right out of you.

Neither The National nor Bon Iver does “happy music,” and the themes running through Big Red Machine are rarely uplifting, but there’s unmistakable joy in the music here, a deep care and love for what they were creating and how they got to create it--among friends who also happen to be overflowing with talent. Fans of either band are likely to share in that joy.

This album isn't merely a single peak, but a whole mountain range.

Danger Mouse’s fingerprints are all over all of these songs, and it’s easy to see parallels with some of his other projects, but in many ways Evil Friends is the most quintessentially Portugal. The Man album the band has released. It’s also undoubtedly their best.

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.

It’s a remarkable, haunted and resonate touchstone for rock and roll, a record unafraid of its own emotions and openness—full of stories worth returning to and untangling a hundred times over.

Crain has invited the listener to eavesdrop on her internal and often contradictory dialogues. That she’s able to do so without shame is one of Kid Face’s crowning achievements and more evidence of Crain’s brilliant, though still-developing talents.

As she walks the walk and talks the talk, she makes it clear that KiCk i is her fullest vision yet for herself, the culmination of eight years of musically and visually rocketing outside the box, bridging seemingly diametrically opposed forces, and pursuing her muse no matter how strange others might find it. When she lets out a soft chuckle at the track’s end, she’s earned it.

Reznor’s letter paints Ghosts V: Together as hopeful and Ghosts VI: Locusts as fearful, but the moods evoked by both are too richly layered to just dichotomize the two records along such bold lines. Together contains more than its fair share of excruciating suspense (the incessant siren-like wail of “Apart,” for example).

The New Pornographers now have coalesced around Carl Newman and his singular vision. Twenty years into their existence, they seem stronger than ever.

Over the past eight years, they’ve demonstrated their creative ambition, as well as the courage to move away from the sound that made them successful. And on Infinite Granite, they prove they have the chops to follow the path of their choosing, wherever it may lead.

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.

Co-produced by Kim Buie and Jordan Lehning, the introspective work finds the great American songwriter, who has had hits on the country, pop, rock and Americana charts, settling into his place as an elder statesman by surveying the path that brought him here.

Like A Moon Shaped Pool and Suspiria, Wall of Eyes is moodier and more sparse, like how a tree is in the winter. The tracks are like long branches stretching out, each textured by their own idiosyncrasies, complications and sonic movements, but are still clearly part of the same root.

That this collaboration would end up working so well should really be of little surprise to longtime fans of Costello. His ‘70s and ’80s work often bore the influence of the same R&B, soul and funk records that the Roots clearly adore.

It’s frank and fresh in its fashion, carrying darkness and unguarded emotions on crests of S-tier artistry.

Marshall allows Wanderer to be about lots of things at once: such life-altering instances as motherhood and death as well as plentifully covered topics like love and relationships. Cat Power has stumbled at times during her lengthy and storied career, but on Wanderer, she gracefully lands on all four feet.

On their second LP, the youngsters don't disappoint.