The album is a full statement and requires a time commitment to appreciate it. The people who are willing to give themselves (and their precious time) over to Chris’ beatification are the only ones who will begin to understand its divine mysteries. And then they’ll hit play on it again.

Its 31-ish minutes are exquisitely wrought, as smoothly mixed as a top-tier set from a DJ with an infinite collection that includes Fifties doo-wop sides and cutting-edge cuts from the African diaspora.

On The Show, it sounds like Niall Horan knows exactly where he’s going.

Joy’All is the sound of a woman who has accepted herself — her past and her present — and now just wants to cut loose. Her broken heart still bears bruises, but it has healed enough to keep her moving. When life hands Lewis lemons now, she makes Lynchburg lemonade.

Brutally beautiful. .... It’s Isbell’s strongest album to date.

Its refusal to take the easy route around grief makes its drum fills (played by Grohl in his first return behind the kit on a Foos album since 2005) land with more intensity and its guitar slashes, some of which recall Nineties left-of-the-dial darlings, hit harder. Even the more subdued tracks like the swirling “Show Me How,” which is leavened by Grohl’s daughter Violet’s lilt, have an urgency to them that makes But Here We Are an immersive listen.

This barebones performance absolutely sparkles — a “Tombstone Blues” that’s much quieter than the original, but so spry that it’s irresistible. It stands totally on its own, and so does the album it’s on.

Ideally, Durk would have cut five or so songs and tightened Almost Healed into a clearer portrait of his struggle to leave his pistol-scarred past behind. Instead, he offers his fans a buffet of listening options, some better than others.

At its worst, the music on Everyone’s Crushed sounds like etudes – studies in experimentalism, finger exercises for tyros in the avant-garde. But when Water From Your Eyes find transcendence – especially on the record’s final two tracks, “14” and the extra winky “Buy My Product” – it can be quite stunning.

Parks has a skill for inviting listeners not only into her mind, but into her immediate environment, and the effects bring her racing emotions right to the forefront.

What makes this music connect is Simon’s ability to make a spiritual setting feel down-to-earth, what you might expect from one of American pop music’s greatest conversational songwriters.

13 scorched-earth tracks that present an artist pulling herself back up from the brink of madness. The most striking element of Kesha's latest is the sound. ... She has found a psychedelic middle ground between the sleazy synths of her 20212 breakthrough, Warrior, and the rootsy and Southern rock of her past two. [May 2023, p.73]

Aside from that awkward reach across the aisle ["Americana"], The Album’s other attempts to dig into weightier matters have better results.

The fruits of their shared labor aren’t perfect—one can pinpoint obvious echoes of Overgrown era James Blake on the album, and the prominent use of murky effects often feels like a crutch to distract from undercooked songwriting. But Secret Life is ultimately a strong outlier in each artist’s handful of recent releases.

ATUM is clearly meant to be the kind of record that requires your full attention, and Act Three makes for a nicely trippy conclusion to the whole project, as well as an intriguing listening experience in and of itself.

woods fulfills the literary expectations he’s often saddled with. Each work is a different chapter in an impressively consistent collection, and Maps finds him in repose, taking stock of the world of him.

On Subtract, Sheeran’s lyricism returns to the spotlight, bolstered by finely detailed music that complements his crystalline lyrics and close-confidant delivery.

The maturity and depth on display on Jackman may not be enough to silence haters or mollify critics but, like Mac Miller’s Watching Movies with the Sound Off, it’s a step up in lyricism that shows that Harlow has much, much more to offer.

A remarkable reassertion of the band’s potency. ... Nine albums deep, the National find new energy by conjuring not just a great, suffocating fog but also the far light that guides the way out.

It’s certainly not overlong at 10 tracks, but That! Feels Good! does seem frontloaded with its punchiest tunes. Still, there are moments in the back half that really work. ... That! Feels Good! is at its absolute best when it pinpoints that intoxicating connection between body and emotion.

It’s a tight 10-track collection that lyrically and musically probes the concept of freedom—what it means, whether it’s a blessing or a curse.

Fuse picks up right where Temperamental stopped, as if they’re hitting play on a cassette they’ve kept on pause for 24 years. But they keep it fresh, using the latest digital effects to warp, filter, mutate Thorn’s voice into a deeper, more dolorous instrument. That suits the adult tone of the songs.

The group blasts 10 hardcore, groove-metal, and metalcore tracks in under 30 minutes, but Jesus Piece avoid the repetitive and rough aspects of their debut by growing exponentially as musicians, focusing their songwriting, and becoming more capable of translating the energy of their live show into nuanced studio performances.

While FACE does at times dwell on the existential what-ifs that plague twentysomething men who have the world’s gaze turned squarely toward them, for the most part it’s a compelling showcase of the silky-voiced singer-dancer’s pop strengths.

The Eighties and Nineties hip-hop-beat references on the album open up a world of opportunity for the group: They’re clearly having the most fun lyrically as they update the past.

There’s a Flannery O’Connor story collection worth of Southern fucked-up-ness going on here. But Wednesday are just as interested in sucking you in with a walloping guitar banger as they are in freaking you out with their snapshots from the ruralburban coming-of-age abyss. These songs are so catchy you almost don’t notice the body count.

Metallica have always been masters of corpulent, groove-heavy riffs and labyrinthine song structures, but now, with more than 40 years of experience, they play with more purpose than in their speed-demon days.

Give her credit for trying to turn her growing pains into prickly, sometimes enjoyable art, even if the Pieces don’t always match the overall effort.

[Love From The Other Side] kicks off a four-song punch of the band’s finest pop writing in ages. ... Some of the other reaches toward pop don’t work as effectively. ... As always, Fall Out Boy’s riskier feats are some of the strongest.

On their ninth album, the sense of crisis in Newman’s songwriting is reflected in a more subdued musical tone as well, making for an LP that delivers its vivid emotional payoff in subtle gestures.

Like deciphering an ancient cassette tape, distorted right up to the point of destruction, Scaring the Hoes is, in fact, a little scary. And that's what makes it so compelling. The chaos makes way for clarity.

Across 19 tracks, the metamorphosis isn’t exactly comprehensive: about a third of the songs here sound submerged in the fog of his early records, and another third are too sketch-like to land as well as the best songs do.

All over The Record, they keep recombining their individual styles into a different kind of chemistry for each song. That’s why they transcend any kind of “supergroup” cliché. After all, supergroups are a dime a dozen compared to actual great bands. And boygenius leave no doubt about where they stand.

Sonically, Ocean Blvd plays out like an elevated take on what she accomplished on Born to Die: the type of anachronistic fusion of Sixties beat poetry, Seventies FM piano pop and more current rap and dance music production that only Del Rey can pull off.

On Love in Exile, they’re confident enough in their abilities to merge and meld into something simpler but no less impressive. No definitions required.

Surprisingly, it finds him mellowed out, focused, with a newfound interest in subtlety and even subtext. ... Ben is handily his best album. It’s a midcareer downshift from an artist who desperately needed it.

It is another Don Toliver album, recommended if you like the other Don Toliver albums. The opener sets the temperature, and it is perfectly temperate, full of springy trap drums, pointillist guitars, and a whole host of Dons Toliver, alternately spectral and keening, dissolving in and out of focus. ... At this point, it’s worth considering his superficiality more of a feature than a bug.

Acknowledging mortality defines much of Memento Mori, but it never feels heavy handed or even all that sullen. Some of the tracks even sound upbeat. ... As always with Depeche Mode, everything counts in large amounts, and on Memonto Mori, the stakes feel bigger than ever.

10,000 Gecs ultimately rises and falls on songcraft. “Doritos & Fritos” is a burst of surrealism and dance-punk angularity that lyrically pairs “eating burritos” with “Danny DeVito.” But “Hollywood Baby” feels too literal in its rebel-girl sentiment, even as the duo mock the idea of celebrity. Still, punters will find plenty of fun singalong chants to repeat when 100 Gecs hit the festival circuit.

Overall Gumbo is another strong offering from an artist who has mastered his craft, and is just fine sticking with it.

On Songs of Surrender, he reminds you these are sturdy songs that can be rethought without any sonic window dressing.

Cyrus excels most when she’s employing her voice to super-sell big ballads, and Endless Summer Vacation is no exception.

This LP is a testament to her place as one of Latin music’s true originals.

This megadose of Wallen doesn’t only ensure that One Thing at a Time will be lodged at the top of the charts for a while — alongside Dangerous, which is currently at Number Five on the Billboard 200 — it also reveals his preferred musical and lyrical tropes, as well as his fondness for simple, slippery vocal melodies that easily stick in listeners’ brains.

Uchis’ 360-degree view of love and versatile voice make Red Moon in Venus a wholly satisfying examination of emotionalism in its many forms — romantic, carnal, self-preserving.

Delivered from DeMent, whose voice has never sounded more curious and committed (listen to her phrasing in the last verse of “Warriors of Love”), these messages of spirit-rising and movement-building feel less like MSNBC screeds than warm invitations toward a righteous calling.

It’s the easiest-going and most purely pleasurable Gorillaz album since their opening one-two punch, 20-some years ago. Guests feel purposeful, filtered into the indie-funk melange with ease.

As with Recess, Skrillex has wrangled a constellation of guest stars for Quest for Fire; the way they move in and out of each song enhances the album’s grab-bag feel.

Over Trustfall’s 13 tracks, Pink whirls through a wide range of musical styles—beat-forward electro on the title track, roller-rink-ready disco-funk on the Max Martin and Shellback-assisted “Never Gonna Not Dance Again,” spiky pop-punk on the middle-finger-flinging “Hate Me.”

Her curious spirit, as well as her undeniable talent as a vocalist and arranger, make Desire, I Want To Turn Into You a kinetic example of what happens when pop sets out to transcend its own limits.

For fans looking for something akin to the hyperactive energy of “King for a Day,” the fast-paced “Death of an Executioner” comes close, while not hitting the same level of earworm immediacy. The album is just diverse enough to show some evolution, while harkening back to key moments from their past.

This Is Why is Paramore’s excellent foray into post-punk, riddled with a new set of anxieties — from witnessing global events to dealing with entering your thirties.

On This Stupid World, the forlorn ambience is more lived-in and close-to-home than it’s ever seemed in the past. ... A record like this makes easing towards the abyss feel a little less painful.

She still has plenty of fun, even as she’s fully aware that it’s not the Nineties anymore. ... Sometimes the production choices feel conspicuously dated. ... Queen of Me is more successful when its pop references feel attuned to her sensibilities as a global pop O.G.

Taken as a whole, Anarchist Gospel is a powerful statement from a singer-songwriter poised to become one of the year’s most vital voices in roots music.

The record’s tight 57 minutes feel as cohesive a project as any artist has released in the streaming era. Yachty’s genuine adoration of his musical inspirations is like the Gen Z alchemy of Pinkpantheress, able to turn familiar source material into something entirely new.

As compelling as Trippie’s vocals and production are, each track leaves the listener feeling like he could be doing more as a songwriter. ... But overall, Trippie’s unmistakable mic presence, and ear for beats make the highs of Mansion Musik an overall enjoyable experience.

He’s earnest and erotic. And you’re likely to hear both a motivational psalm as well as a louche reference to some “thick batty gal.” But it’s those thoughtful moments that really stand out. And there’s a pure, almost spiritual feeling to Popcaan’s music.

Living up to the title of the whole series, those concert tapes often sound like bootlegs; here and there, you can hear people in the audience commenting as the songs start up and end.

She has a smooth, deep voice that glides over RIOTUSA’s beats, and her chopping delivery feels effortless. If these tracks seem a bit too sympatico, perhaps the result of studio freestyles with a hastily mapped-out hook to tie them together, their raw quality also makes her performances visceral and exciting.

A compact, steadily flowing collection of pop songs that showcase Smith’s vocal versatility and personal growth.

Mercy, Cale’s first in a decade, is one of his most compelling.

Thanks to co-producer Max Martin, who contributed to some of these tracks and knows his way around a hook, their version of rock is an aural food processor of stadium chants, processed-sounding beats, and wind-tunnel blare. Sometimes, an undeniable ear-worm emerges. ... It’s hard to tell how seriously Måneskin take any of this silliness. Certainly, being over the top suits them best.

This is very much an Ice Cube affair, and he sculpts this album in his loud, punchy, hard-funkin’ style. Too $hort acquits himself well, too, striking a balance between musty pimp raps and surprisingly effective community-oriented lyrics. E-40 remains a style ambassador, gliding with his liquid, off-center flow. Snoop is a dutiful presence by comparison, though he occasionally gets a good verse in.

Despite its scattershot title and the fact that it was recorded in five separate studios across Nashville and California, Strays feels like Price’s most cohesive collection yet guided by light West Coast shadings courtesy of Jonathan Wilson (Father John Misty, Dawes). Price finds ways to effectively and subtly tease out different shades from her longtime versatile band, the Price Tags.

Every Loser contains some of Iggy’s hardest rockers in years, and emphasizes all of the things the man does well: blistering rock, po-faced ballads, and a genuine way with words.

All told, these are soulful, uplifting songs by Afrobeats’ top artist. He’s all about dropping heat, even as he continues to evolve. More Love, Less Ego gives you more life.

He sticks to the persona he established with his 2016 mixtape The Artist, evoking a young man whose rap life affords him every desire, yet still gets rattled when a relationship goes sideways, or when opps cross him in the streets. These are themes he mines over and over, deploying melodious hooks and diaristic lyrics to keep them fresh. The result is an hour-plus album with few surprises.

On No Thank You, the follow-up to her excellent 2021 breakthrough Sometimes I Might Be Introvert, Simz gives us 10 choice cuts (showcasing her brilliance and breadth) that convey the whole emoji board of riveting emotions.

S.O.S., SZA’s long-awaited sophomore album, is even more enjoyable than her 2017 debut, CTRL. The songs are looser and more confident. And the worthy themes—retribution, nostalgia, ego—amount to the most intimate and juicy self-revelations since the Real World confessional booth.

Heroes & Villains is entertaining enough as a man’s, man’s, man’s world. It’s better conceptualized and executed than Only Heroes Wear Capes, even if 21 Savage can’t quite match the ASMR pleasures of that album’s “Don’t Come Out the House.”

Indigo is an adventurous sonic portrait of RM’s inner world, the work of an artist who finds his voice by bringing together the influences that resonate with his soul.

The collection’s treasure trove of five discs contains raw demos, radio sessions, a rare live concert, and alternative mixes that show how Bowie was desperate to figure out his next step. ... The songs that didn’t make it to Hunky Dory studio versions are even more revealing. Each shows Bowie was woodshedding new characters. ... The rest of the demos show how Bowie developed his sound and stuck to his vision when he got into the studio.

The Family is a brutally honest high-point to cap an amazing body of work.

A beautifully wrought pop record that grapples with the disquiet hanging over the globe.

The album doesn’t have near the instant pop appeal of past Queens albums, since much of the music sounds contemplative (it is an opera after all even if it’s still mainstream-adjacent music), but when Chris gives himself over to a beat, he still commands pop greatness.

As Her Loss abandons 21’s form of smack talk as a playful, revelatory exercise, its tone shifts to Drake’s toxic petulance. ... There’s a gloominess this time around, and it’s not just the sloppy sequencing and hit-or-miss quality that ranges from clear standouts like “Pussy & Millions,” where the so-called “treacherous twins” team up with Travis Scott, to aimless dross like “Major Distribution.” ... Singular misfire.

Even if the arrangements occasionally feel static in their mimicry, Springsteen’s voice shines and sparkles.

While nothing here comes close to the sonic risks Cudi felt free to take earlier in his career, he makes up for that shortcoming by creating one of his easiest listens to date.

What’s clearer now in hindsight, especially thanks to this new box set, is how the quartet took its collective influences and refracted them into something cohesively “Beatles.” ... Revolver heralded the Beatles’ metamorphosis from greatness into immortality.

On the frisky and more limber Act 1. ... Working with an assortment of collaborators, including producer and songwriter Ryan Tedder of OneRepublic, members of the soul-revivalist band the Dap-Kings, and nimble modern producers like Tone and Some Randoms, Legend sets his smooth, elastic voice to the most seductive and slinkiest grooves of his career. ... On Act 2, Legend succumbs to his usual supper-club decorum.

AM was so heart-wrenchingly excellent that it looms over the Sheffield rockers and their fans, but unlike 2018’s Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino, The Car seems like its true predecessor.

It’s the fuzzy sound of a band unconcerned with the past, ignoring their legacy and responding to a new, darker reality.

For all the broken romances on The Loneliest Time, it’s an uplifting experience.

Her tenth album returns to the dazzling synth-pop of albums like '1989' and 'Reputation,' with lyrics caught between a love story and a revenge plot.

Crybaby is a wild ride, with Tegan and Sara’s voices twinning and uncoupling on songs that vibrate with feeling while having the kind of lightness that comes with wrapping up larger-than-life sentiments in glittering pop gems.

Shaw tries to sing here and there (notably on “Driver’s Story”) but Dry Cleaning’s words and music seem to work best together when they’re working independently of each other. The band’s peers in the sing-speak/post-punk group Wet Leg do a better job overall of conjuring joy from the marriage of poetry and music but what Dry Cleaning do feels unique.

Most of the time, Baby is in prime form here — technical enough to earn his hip-hop cred, and stylistic enough to keep the uncommon kids from feeling like he’s common. When he’s at his best, it’s best to let him gobble you whole.

Only Built for Infinity Links find Quavo and Takeoff more than capable of conjuring the old Migos magic by themselves. It’s a patchy collection that seems to go on a bit too long despite a 59-minute running time.

Dirt Femme isn’t Tove Lo’s magnum opus but in revealing a more vulnerable side and digging deeper into her ethos, she excels at not losing what has made her such a standout in a saturated genre over the years.

At 75 minutes is even longer than its predecessor, is essentially “Unlimited Love II.” it’s a bit of a stop-gap, but also a nice coda.

With Being Funny In A Foreign Language, they reassert themselves at the forefront of 2020s pop-rock, fusing together the textures and musical ideas of soft-rock hits from three decades ago with modern sensibilities in a way that sounds instantly familiar, yet distinctively of-the-moment.

Radically openhearted and stunning new album. The album feels like a series of warm embraces: of Andrews’ past musical selves, of her past mistakes and misfortunes, and of her bright, beautifully uncertain present and future.

Across 12 tracks that all clock in under three minutes or so in length, Charlie is an expertly-crafted collection of earworms that stay in your head longer than any viral photo or TikTok clip. On his terrific, cohesive third studio album, the man with the perfect pitch proves he’s got the perfect formula for a great pop record too.

Willow's musical ambition has always been there, but here it's matched by larger-than-life rock that borrows from multiple eras, smashing those influences into something new.

With age/sex/location, Lennox has delivered her best work to date, one that mostly leaps past her patchy but inspired Shea Butter Baby debut in quality.

$oul $old $eparately is solid work made by an established character.

The minimalist, glassy music, combined with her depiction of her younger companion’s spirited imagination, makes for an ending that manages to contain enough optimism to inspire O, Zinner, and Chase to keep their collective spirit smoldering, even against the 21st century’s brutal headwinds.