These songs are history, and have now become it again, renewed.

Maraqopa is a shooting star, an album bursting with presence of mind, a testimony to emotional rebirth buoyed by recurring themes of freedom and transcendence.

What separates Boss from any cynical cashing-in critiques is that the Markers went above and beyond to actually create an album that nearly contradicts their constructed identity.

Unless you’re already a Music Tapes fan, chances are you haven’t experienced anything quite as exquisitely raw, effortlessly transportive, and charmingly distinct in a long time.

While it may be the most unfamiliar work of Herren’s discography, it’s still one of the year’s first great albums.

The Thin Black Duke is a concentrated work of beauty and malevolence that will go toe-to-toe with any other rock record released this year, and likely beyond. Oxbow can take twice as many years to make their next record, as long as it results in something this magnificent.

[A] near-masterpiece.

Explosions In The Sky are the only instrumental post-rock band that matters, and The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place is proof.

Janelle Monáe’s The Electric Lady is simply wonderful.

Sonically, Rise Above is just another healthy dose of what Longstreth does best. Anomalous harmonies, quirky time signatures, and spontaneous rock-outs punctuate the album’s 11 tracks.

To Realize, the superb sophomore full-length from the band, finds them wholly embracing what was once merely hinted at.

This album has all the presence that you should expect it to have.

While everyone else tries to steal from the greats, The Icarus Line have done an impressive job at continuing the great traditions in rock music.

Both claustrophobic and breathtakingly expansive, The War on Drugs’ latest effort is their best.

What is absolutely impressive about MF Doom is his ability to craft unique, memorable characters with each consecutive album release while still imbuing a sense of unity and dynamic interplay.

Both infectiously danceable and highly intelligent.

Tempest's epic scale and grandeur makes his few previous albums look like short stories leading up to a great novel.

II is gonna get you. It's gonna fold you up, flatten you in its steel press, and make a revolting panini outta ya. Then it's chow time. So long, sucker.

This is the crux of the album’s difficulty: it feels personal and scans as though it should be, but time and time again, it leaves me not quite sure whether I know a single thing about milo, the person.

What you can expect is what makes My Morning Jacket tried and true: bigger-than-life lyrics, classic rock swagger, and the need to move forward.

Some of the catchiest songs he's ever written.

Every song lands, resounds, resists, and repeats true to its aim.

A danceable yet heavy album.

Distrust is crucial not only as the resurrection of the passion and soul of hip-hop in the face of the overwhelming monetary success of pop-hop, but as a vital questioning of feudal policy, raising awareness, and sounding good doing it.

For the Ghosts Within provides another oddly-shaped window into the labyrinthine mind of Robert Wyatt, nearly as vital in its own way as Shleep or Rock Bottom.

Call it experimental muzak, call it cultured post-bop fueled by the internet. Either way, it’s interesting to hear Ghostface sink so smoothly into their rhythms.

The contemplative Mary's Voice may win over listeners who couldn't stomach the unrefined energy of The Music Tapes' older work, with artistic integrity intact.

With pacing like a serial manga franchise, the album shines through its relentless ability to grow on you, despite all odds.