At times, their subgenre-flipping can be ungainly--the cheerleading chant "Impossible" is awkwardly glued together, and Hervey's dissonant harmonies sometimes obscure her hooks. More often, though, the cracks in their songwriting and sonics come off as welcome decoration, and their why-the-hell-not bravado is hugely refreshing.

Majid Jordan’s best quality is its intimate feel, sounding like each song is the extension of a conversation and is to be heard by a specific set of ears.

On new album Moth, the follow-up to 2012’s Something, Polachek and Wimberly seem to relish their good luck, layering hooks and beats with a kooky exuberance that was missing last time out.

EVOL doesn’t break any rules or set many new ones, but as the latest in a seemingly never-ending series of wonders Future and his team wield in their creation of druggy, downcast afterparty dispatches, it is a joy.

Debut LP We Are King finally gives the act room to stretch its crushed-velvet sound to its outer edges. The three voices often swirl into one, with lockstep harmonies that make challenging, constantly shifting melodies go down easy.

Their ­second album sharpens their ­instrumental attack, while singer Jehnny Beth exposes her bloody heart.

St. Lucia's splendid synth-pop allure has instant pop catchiness, but Grobler's willingness to wear his lyrics' romantic motivations like a badge of honor gives Matter a thrilling extra jolt.

Its muted mood and tempo may be initially disappointing for an artist who's been at the forefront of pop and, often, innovated it.... A closer listen, though, shows Rihanna harnessing the moody, intimate sounds for a novel purpose: to open up and let us peer into how complicated her adult life has become.

Blue Neighbourhood features soft-touch synths and booming drum machines worthy of the next Lorde or Taylor Swift record.

Blackstar is its own strange, perverse thing, the ­latest move in a boundlessly ­unpredictable career.

Where “Sleep” excels as a quality addition to his catalog’s stellar collection of panty-dropping and baby-making songs (see: “Take You Down,” “No BS”), others fall and lean towards prosaic.

On DBD, he delivers music that can’t be clumped with contemporary hip-hop.

Speedin' is an uncomfortably internal album that's a pleasurable listen. It's not as gleefully nihilistic as Future, but comes across just as revelatory.

When It's Dark Out marks a vast leap forward: His cadences are more agile, his boasts more boastful, his guest list tighter (Too Short, E-40, Kehlani).

More than any previous Coldplay release, A Head Full of Dreams sounds like a pop record; the band has never been catchier.

For all the grief and regret it contains, it's a triumphant debut, encapsulating the grit of life, ­turning it into a hell of a journey.

The set includes virtually every imaginable permutation of the album--a remastered stereo version and a radio-only mono mix that boosts the bass and makes for an overall punchier sound--and two-dozen-odd outtakes, demos, single mixes and “remastered early versions” that are fascinating but have been available for years. Where it gets really interesting is the two concerts.

What makes this collection essential is the cohesion of the band and the setlists: The shows find the Velvets at their absolute peak as a live unit.

And yet: that voice. On 25, the material is occasionally inspired, sometimes dull, but always serviceable--and with Adele, that’s enough.

As first impressions go, Know-It-All is a charismatic balance between dreams and reality that makes its author stick out in the most impressive way.

Heart may be a measured apology, but Green still has a defiant streak.

Despite its countless co-writers and producers, chief among them Bieber’s bestie Jason “Poo Bear” Boyd, the album boasts a consistent palette of lush, low-key electro-dance sounds: sun-warped synths, chipmunk accent vocals, rattling trap hi-hats, and loads of bass.... It’s in this Spotify-age blend of dance, hip-hop, R&B and classic smooth-dude vocalizing that Bieber truly shows his growth.

Ork was a ­scoundrel and eventually a jailbird, but no one chronicled the undercard at CBGB ­better.

With these 13 tracks--nine of which the band had a hand in writing--One Direction does maturity much better than on its last album, 2014's ballad-heavy Four.

Art Angels is a marvel of meticulous, even obsessive home-studio recording, uncompromised by bandmates or collaborators.

At the very least, listening to The Cutting Edge 1965-1966 should send you scurrying back to the official versions of those three classic Bob Dylan albums. It’s his story, and it’s history, reconsidered one more time.

On Storyteller, it’s striking to hear her respond to varied musical textures by expanding her repertoire, toying with inflection and phrasing, and bringing new wrinkles to the characters she’s inhabiting.

You can question its originality, but the music hits hard.