Midnights marks Swift’s self-assured return to her comfort zone: delivering sweeping crowdpleasers and nuanced hard-hitters.

The clarity of Reed’s voice as a songwriter contrasts with the tentative musicality in kinetic ways, making Words & Music a rare thing: a historic document that is also compelling listening.

Most of the material on this fifth volume of Switched On studiously avoids the trappings of pop music, so hearing this Emperor Tomato Ketchup single as a coda underscores how Stereolab’s music is the product of careful choices and planned adventure, a combination that often produces compelling results as Pulse Of The Early Brain makes plain.

Big Time is a monumental work on loss and how quickly things can change. We see Olsen come into a new power as a songwriter, resulting in an album filled to the brim with radiance and conviction.

Alpha Games is the sound of a band trying to reignite its former flame, while simultaneously digging its heels so deep into unfamiliar territory, it can’t even reach the lighter.

More than anything, however, Skinty Fia’s plodding progression and miserabilist overtones come across like cut-rate versions of Bauhaus’ chilly gothic vibes and the aforementioned Joy Division’s claustrophobic dirge, only without the benefit of the latter group’s inimitable basslines.

It’s a sprawling, sublime collection which rivals B’lieve in the context of Vile’s largely unimpeachable discography.

There are no dull moments on Wet Leg. With the winning pairing of two incredible guitarists and excellent songwriting, this is a near-flawless introduction. The record holds such a compelling collection of songs.

There are songs about lovers remaining strangers and dumbstruck fools falling for each other, and musically, it is sleek. The whole record carries a surprising confidence in regard to affection, survival, and making ends meet.

Casual fans may be disappointed by the lack of hooks until they’ve heard it another twenty times, while hardcore fans will slowly discover there’s a musical depth the Peppers have long been striving for. The bulk of the album blends into its own flavor, and it’s a good one. Unlimited Love doesn’t do it all, but what it does, it does damn well.

While Forever has moments from the artist as good as anything he’s done, it also has a lot of posthumous eulogizing and after-the-fact assembly, all riven through with a heavy dose of sentimentality.

This EP finds Weezer safely in its comfort zone, leaving a big challenge for the rest of the EPs in the series. But for now, fans can still enjoy the fact that Weezer can sometimes—when the right effort is made—sound genuinely great.

Overall, CRASH’s crystal clear production and iron-clad writing has all of the force behind it to propel the album into the stratosphere. But instead of putting the pedal to the metal in pursuit of a high camp sound, it stays in the slow lane.

In/Out/In, a collection of five rare and unreleased tracks from the band’s final decade, isn’t going to change anyone’s minds about Sonic Youth. If anything, this decidedly lo-fi affair only reinforces what listeners likely already know: that the group could pivot easily between lovely little compositions and shrieking avant-garde noise that is practically anti-music in its deconstructionist tendencies.

Back In Black is an album-length reminder of why the group has managed to have such staying power. It straddles that difficult artistic line between being devoted to what made the rap outfit great, while changing things up just enough to stay relevant.

Hygiene is a record wholly unconcerned about how derivative it sounds, or with how it fits into the wider rock landscape—happy instead to carve out its own niche, straddling genres with aplomb. That it’s so much damn fun to boot is the good part.

Given the deeply vulnerable quality of all the tracks on How Is It That I Should Look At The Stars, however, Lindeman’s instincts to allow them to breathe—recording them as simply as possible in an improvisational way—reveals a different facet of her songcraft, one that’s just as accomplished as the arguably more accessible sound of Ignorance.

Yanya’s voice, both grounded and airy, slides across PAINLESS’ 12 expertly crafted and unusually somber love songs.

While the work may not always feel cohesive, SASAMI moves between these worlds with ease.

The orchestral arrangements provide fertile soil to highlight her strengths as a songwriter, allowing her bright, elegant melodies to bloom even wider than before.

If the band was trying to make something that feels like Blood Incantation without sounding like Blood Incantation, it’s succeeded. ... [But] By setting the album down on rails and allowing it to click along in such a conventional way, Blood Incantation removes any real element of danger or spontaneity; the end is always visible on the horizon.

The fundamental stye of this iconic four-piece has never congealed. You never get the sense the band is trying to recreate its past records. Instead, it’s looking to insert little changes and musical tics, ways to find something new in the long-running sound that’s come before, without losing the Northern Star of its genre-defining style. It’s a wild realization.

Overall, Life On Earth has plenty of strong music that shows how much Segarra’s artistry has evolved.

With Once Twice Melody, Beach House proves there’s more to the duo than fans may think, with brash, lively arrangements that shine as much as the restrained ones.

Heterosexuality’s first three tracks, which rank among Shamir’s best songs to date. The rest of Heterosexuality uses synths not as sandpaper to drag across the ears, but as a melodic invitation to join Shamir in his quest toward internal betterment.

Lucifer On The Sofa is one of the band’s most focused songwriting efforts yet: Every note feels deliberately placed and well-constructed, with crisp arrangements (the piano-sprinkled ballad “My Babe”), piercing hooks (the elastic “The Devil & Mr. Jones”) and sweeping dynamics (the melodramatic, glammy art-rock waltz “Satellite”).

For someone who has historically bared it all in her work, it’s frustrating to hear Mitski craft songs with such surface-level musicality. Still, on a lyrical level, she conjures wonderful tales of sorrow and desire, with a pointed sense of brevity and a newfound ability to just let things go.

Time Skiffs is a record meant to be played front to back; for those willing to ride the mellower waves, it’s a satisfying skiff, indeed.

The songs on Extreme Witchcraft that don’t work simply blend into the background. ... Moments that do work—and there are a handful—combine Everett’s peerless gift for melody and pacing. ... Ultimately, however, there isn’t much in the way of subtext here.

From A Bird’s Eye View is a fitting sequel to Lost Boy both sonically and lyrically. That lost boy is gone and in his place a self-assured artist plotting his next moves in the industry.

Stellar. ... The album boasts Marshall’s usual selection of interesting and unexpected covers. This time around, she’s curated an intriguing and moody mix of modern pop, vintage country, and classic rock, highlighted by recognizable songs.

Ghersi’s most minimalistic release. It rarely boasts more than a slow piano line or a near-nonexistent synth bed. ... Perhaps these songs would jell more strongly if they belonged to albums released separately, and many months apart, instead of crammed into one unit.

If her work has previously resembled a maze of metallic doors and broken mirrors, kick iiii is more akin to the day after a snowstorm: There’s some beauty to it, but the unsightly ice piles curdling near the sidewalks stand out the most.

KicK iii, however, largely succeeds because it further explores the aggressive moods at which “Prada” only pokes.

The onslaught of music masks how well KICK ii refines KiCk i’s chaotic, free-flying spirit into something smoother and more muted—and how KicK iii exaggerates these jagged edges.

The richest and most musically adventurous album of her career.

A group that has long found new, thrilling ways to go hard and fast is softening and slowing its assault, locating (thanks to some choice guest contributors) new dimensions of the Converge sound: songs that slither rather than gallop and whisper instead of roar.

While it may not be the most sonically exciting record crafted under lockdown, it’s at its best when encapsulating the emotional regression felt during that time—especially when people were so starved for connection, they sometimes forgot how to communicate clearly with others.

Red (Taylor’s Version) has a happy, free, lonely, and, yes, confused vibe; quoting “22” feels appropriate in this case—it doesn’t get old, it just gets an incredible upgrade.

It may fall on the more mellow and restrained side of her catalogue, but this is a record to be savored—mining beauty (and yes, some humor) from pain is an Aimee Mann specialty, and this record serves as further testament to that fact.

Throughout Valentine, Jordan reaches a new height of expression that practically demands to be heard and felt. ... Over Valentine, Jordan takes turmoil and heartache and creates something beautiful from the mess.

For die-hards, having these extra tracks in one place, rather than scattered across CD singles or long-lost downloaded MP3s, is a plus; for the unfamiliar, these extras help flesh out the main album’s contours. ... A fascinating chronicle, New Adventures is finally—and rightfully—taking its place as one of R.E.M.’s best, most consistent works.

While Chemtrails was cause for concern that Del Rey had perhaps lost her magic touch, Banisters is a reminder that when the singer-songwriter is in charge of her vision and fully taps into her emotions, she’s still capable of crafting breathtaking beauty.

Everything’s he’s done has led to this engaging debut record, a work that allows his inner self to shine.

With God Is Partying, W.K. isn’t closing the chapter on the persona that attracted so many fans in the first place. He’s merely showing that there’s a different side to the poster child for partying—and it’s not always going to be uplifting.

More successfully than on Double Negative, Low has fused the thesis and antithesis of its musical identity, creating a transcendent synthesis of its fragile, beautiful ego and raging experimental id. Lucky 13, indeed.

The resulting record is largely another missed opportunity for experimentation from the man many consider the current best rapper in the game. Yes, the theatrics, and introspection, and even a few moments of musical deftness, are there. But overall, it’s nothing to depart from 2018’s Scorpion or 2016’s Views. There’s nothing groundbreaking here.

Sometimes I Might Be Introvert is as ambitious and intimate as anything the North-London MC has ever done, and an easy contender for the best rap album of the year, let alone the week.

While she leaves her full Western get-up at the door, Musgraves continues to bring her Southern sensibilities with her, with a work that reaches to the soul of the country genre, if not the most obvious musical trappings.

More than half of this album is complete filler. No one’s missing “Okok,” “24,” or “Remote Control.” A soulful choir is not enough to save “Never Again.” On this record, there is none of the production genius we’ve come to expect from West. ... And that’s the thing that’s missing most from this record, with all its myriad problems: No one edits West anymore, not even himself. And that’s a damn shame.

It may not be their best, but it’s their best right now—and it crackles with the energy of a group that’s figured out how to block out the noise and deliver superbly crafted pop music, the kind some idealistic kids would’ve wanted to hear in a Scottish basement over a decade ago.

The record has achieved a rare quality: It sounds as though it was made just for you.

Solar Power’s a little messy and rough around the edges, and features a Lorde now moving on from her youth and wanting to keep some things to herself. In short: It’s just like being 24.

It’s an undeniable return to early form, albeit with the clear sensibility of a band struggling to again find the magic in the formula.

These don’t feel like your average indie-goes-’80s covers; they’re a reminder that even when Olsen’s having fun, she can turn something simple into a gut-punch, consuming your thoughts and evoking reflection of the emotional connection tied to her words.

Infinite Granite is easy on the ears, a lush and transporting listen, but it also runs together in a way previous albums from this band—with their hills of jagged intensity and valleys of, yes, heavenly beauty—really didn’t. Here, we get only the beauty: a long, indistinguishable blur of pleasure.

Some of the most openly emotional music The Killers have ever created. The unflinching nostalgia of Pressure Machine is strong enough to inspire our own thoughts back to wherever we think of as “home,” and how it remains a part of us even if it’s not the place we would have chosen ourselves.

Billie Eilish’s second album expands upon everything that worked the last time and pushes it in new directions, a creative muse restless and bold in its ambition. It may not always land, but this is a terrific release that proves Eilish’s staying power, demonstrating she’s more than up to the task of delivering on the promise of her debut.

This record is evidence that Prince’s one-of-a-kind genius never really dimmed, even if he sometimes lost sight of how to focus it, 0r—perhaps more importantly to the quick-take internet area that Prince detested so much—how to package it.

Cottrill delivers her most innately beautiful and well-orchestrated album yet.

While the pleasant-enough arrangements may make for an effective summer record, Planet Her lacks the originality Doja made her name on, and no amount of stunning and spacey visuals (as in the music video for “Need To Know”) can make the songs better than they are.

Given that none of the tracks on Path Of Wellness are eager to commit to any one style, the blend of influences almost feels like a conversation.

While Half-Light feels more apt to be listened to under twinkling stars, Changephobia is a fitting record for sunny summer days, leaning into a stripped-down sound that combines pop with jazz.

Soberish starts off strong, opening with the infectious “Spanish Doors” and building to “Hey Lou,” whose chorus is the most invasive earworm on an album that has plenty of them. ... And while the orchestral elements add some much-needed texture, too many of the songs unfold at the same midtempo pace, an effect that makes the title track, for one, seem much longer than it actually is.

Her debut record, SOUR, will be a contender for best pop album of the year. There are no filler tracks on SOUR. Each song represents a different side to Rodrigo’s artistry, embracing every influence that’s shaped her music, while still creating something fresh.

This is a record in love with the bygone spirits it conjures, and even the sparsest tracks sound like they’ve been punctiliously determined. It’s an album that sounds like it wants to be messy, yet is anything but.

With tons of great hooks, and minimal cringe, this is the rare Weezer record that is simply fun to listen to, without fear of having to jump for the “skip” button every couple of songs.

She has launched the re-recorded Fearless (Taylor’s Version), adding a mellifluous upgrade to an already remarkable album. Sure, it works as a throwback, but it’s mainly a showcase of Swift’s mature, confident vocals, with a sharper sense of musicianship and instrumentation this time around.

“Tulsa Jesus Freak” is arguably closest to the Lana Del Rey longtime fans know and love, and it’s no surprise that it was written in 2019, around the time NFR! came out. “Yosemite” is another highlight, a stunning number with Del Rey’s vocals at their best. But most songs on Chemtrails don’t stand out. They blend together in their delicateness.

Lout is a difficult EP to place. It’ll either entice long-standing fans with its heavier sound, fitting well with the band’s aesthetic, or alienate those who prefer the band’s early work. But this reinvention of The Horrors somehow works.

With Little Oblivions, the singer-songwriter has made her most cohesive record yet. The resuscitation of a heavier sound works in Baker’s favor, while she still adds hints of the fragile gentleness that has captivated fans since her Sprained Ankle days.

While the band’s smoothness may mirror the gentrification of the dive bars it once canonized, its empathy and affection for the dirtbags yearning for transcendence remains as strong as ever.

Heartbreak, anger, acceptance, new love, mental health, and hope converged into something a little more well-rounded. Flowers For Vases, for all its beauty, appears single-minded in comparison, focusing solely on pain-tinged recollection and the challenge of moving forward. But if Williams chooses to spend some extra time wading through the uncomfortable emotions that mark a particular breakup—especially when those feelings make way for more personal growth—then it’s a worthwhile bit of exploration.

It’s solid, in other words—which isn’t damning with faint praise, rather affirming that Weezer is nailing this material. It’s in the slower, more balladry-driven songs that OK Human (the latest in a long line of stupid reference-heavy album titles, this time nodding at Radiohead’s classic) finds its openly beating heart.

evermore is even better than folklore, thanks to greater sonic cohesion (Antonoff only has one production credit, on the superlative “Gold Rush,” leaving the bulk of the music produced or co-produced by Aaron Dessner) and stronger songwriting.

Fortunately, midway through the record, McCartney III starts to soar. When he’s not pouring his heart out into silly love songs, McCartney fares best harnessing his seldom-seen inner rage, à la “Helter Skelter.”

Positions isn’t a perfect album (and far from an instant classic in the vein of Sweetener or Thank U, Next), but the LP is a more-than-worthy stepping stone to whatever comes next for the artist.

His new record Letter To You is an absolute triumph, one that can take its place alongside the best albums of Springsteen’s long career.

A bloated and often beautiful portrait of political and emotional anxiety that longs for nothing more than to break away from the systems that brought us to this current moment.

So yes, Katy Perry has grown up, but in doing so, she’s abandoning some of the best things about “Katy Perry.”

Unlike the singer’s rootsy solo work, Down In The Weeds is rich in what brought many of us to Bright Eyes in the first place: the drama. ... There’s the mature reflection he intertwines with his urgency. There’s his hard-fought optimism. And there’s the embrace of community, the sense that Oberst doesn’t want to stare down these songs alone.

In the end, folklore may or may not reflect a permanent musical shift for Taylor Swift. But it doesn’t necessarily need to be a grand step forward—that it’s a whimsical and intriguing album offering new insights into Swift’s work is completely enough.

Whether she intended to do so or not, Phoebe Bridgers has created a musical monument to our dissociative age with Punisher. It’s an album about sleepless nights and sinking feelings in the pit of your stomach, wrapped in a musical package that’s both feather-light and lush enough to run your fingers through.

“Enigma” really is a fitting word for Gaga. Her choices can be puzzling, and not every song is a success, but that unpredictability is what makes her exciting and leaves us coming back for more. So maybe Gaga doesn’t know who she truly is yet. It’s still enjoyable to watch her figure it out.

Notes On A Conditional Form feels less like a 1975 album than it does a hodgepodge collection of songs by a band trying on various sonic identities to see what fits. If anything, to understand and appreciate the record, don’t approach it as an album-length statement from one band, but as a personalized, diverse playlist curated by a favorite human tastemaker.

The intensity and diversity of Part 1 hinted at even more bombastic and unexpected songs to come on Part 2, which instead mostly continues the sound he already mastered on Aromanticism. It’s not that Part 2’s songs aren’t gorgeous and poignant; it’s just that, given Sumney’s unwavering focus on shattering longtime boundaries, Part 2’s songs occupy shockingly familiar musical territory.

Though it contains mere hints of the scrappy rocker we’ve watched for 15 years, Petals Of Armor is the bold signature of someone who is more than ready to show off different sides of herself—yet has nothing left to prove to anyone.

If there’s a downside to the electricity in Williams’ veins on Good Souls Better Angels, it’s that the gentler material doesn’t have quite the same impact.

Fetch The Bolt Cutters is full of visceral, jittery, wonderfully imperfect performances that make the album feel like a dreamlike concert at Largo.

If you can get past the pall cast by that song’s sentiment, I Am Not A Dog On A Chain features some of Morrissey’s best songs in years, and a couple of his worst. It leans—in weird but not unwelcome ways—on electronics more than any record he’s ever done.

This is the sound of a band working hard to evolve, and if the strain of incorporating such a large swath of musical experimentation occasionally shows, well, maybe that’s the cost of attempting new tricks at an advanced age. Never let it be said that the band embraced different sounds at the expense of its tried-and-true formulas, however. Part of what makes Gigaton fascinating is the way these sonic departures actually fuse in unexpected ways with some of the band’s traditional four-on-the-floor stompers.

Moore has finally grown into the adult voice that sounded so jarring in her teenaged hits like “Candy,” and her songwriting also reveals a sadder, wiser maturity. ... Silver Landings’ best moments arrive when Moore’s explorations veer from her own story to the more universally relatable.

Artists can certainly grow up and mature without losing their edge or creative spark. Changes, however, is ultimately a transitional record that finds Bieber navigating how to reconcile adulthood with pop stardom—and discovering that, at least in his case, this merger is a tricky one.

Parker’s long-awaited Currents follow-up, The Slow Rush, isn’t quite as interesting as its predecessors in terms of songwriting and production, and this gap makes Parker’s lyrical weaknesses more challenging to ignore.

High Road works because of Kesha’s self-assurance and self-possession.

Fine Line proves that the musician has absorbed the best lesson passed down by California’s great musicians: Don’t be afraid to take chances within a folk- or pop-rock framework, as that’s how you create iconoclastic music that endures.

Overall, in spite of its goofy throwback artwork and the presence of Pharrell Williams, Hyperspace belongs on the shelf closest to Sea Change. There are more clunkers here than on that classic, but it feels similarly honest and world-weary.

Here’s what it is, though: quietly ambitious, occasionally ham-handed, decidedly political, dopily mystical, surprisingly pointed, and mostly pretty good. And, maybe most importantly, it is unexpected, in good and bad ways.