There will always be a welcome space for groups who take a signature sound and continue to perfect it, and when it all comes together as effortlessly as it does on Final Summer, it is worth calling attention.

Hey Panda is a bold update of the group’s sound—layered, complex, day-glow-colored with decidedly modern R&B and hip-hop influences. Here is a band that’s not done evolving.

The record is more acoustic than any of Rogers’ previous work in a way that feels welcome and refreshing rather than an erasure of her first two albums as inauthentic. Rogers’ vocal and performance abilities may recall musicians of decades past, but she is still very much a product of her time.

The result is a series of songs that have the expansiveness of improvisational music, disciplined into the taut power of rock.

It is clear that Exotic Birds of Prey is in part about transformation through music and eluding the oppressive modern impulse to profile and categorize, racially and otherwise. These themes speak to a broader ethos of Shabazz Palaces across their catalog. Yet, it is also apparent that this tactic of resistance and subversion can equally elude the understanding of listeners.

This has been a particularly strong year for heavy, guitar-forward music, and Up on Gravity Hill is sure to turn up again on some end-of-the-year lists.

The singer doesn’t stray too far from the soft indie-folk sounds that made her a cult-favorite indie darling in the first place, but her attempts at infusing her lyrics with the sonic properties also heard on a mid-aughts Tegan and Sara ballad remind us that McAlpine is the most darling when she’s just being herself.

Rather than relying on flashy gimmicks and studio trickery, Lenker lets good old-fashioned song craftsmanship carry the album through its 12 tunes.

The title track does a better job of establishing focus; it is easy country blues supporting Parr’s meditations.

Phosphorescent’s Revelator is less melodically charged than Muchacho and C’est La Vie (or even parts of Here’s to Taking It Easy). Also, Houck’s vocals sometimes flounder in woozy, loungey, soft-pillow mixes. That said, Revelator is a transitional album for Houck, as he turns his attention more unwaveringly to interior dynamics, less preoccupied with the vagaries of the external world.

She is constantly connected, consciously or not, with more rooted folk forms, from Ghanaian Ewe drumming and dance to Haitian funereal brass bands. Her results sound like none of that, but somewhere, underneath the layers of beats and snippets of melody, she tosses off like corn husks, dwells fossils, and bones with stories to tell us.

For all of Weaver’s experimental spirit, there isn’t a vast distance between some of the new songs and the soulful pop of, say, Sade or Dido. Weaver has always been keen on strong melodies and layered harmony vocals, so when “Perfect Storm” delivers its New Wave analogue groove or “Romantic Worlds” evokes chilled-out dancefloors, the music sits in a dynamic middle ground between alternative and mainstream.

Overall, the album is a mixed bag, but it’s worth persisting with for its moments of beauty and always fun energy.

The Collective is hard to pin down, but that is part of what makes it so compelling.

Across its ten tracks and 47-minute runtime, Moran collaborates with herself, instead, using a Disklavier – a modified Synclavier similar to an updated player piano – to create poignant, evocative, soul-searching post-minimalist piano sketches.

Overall, Interplay is a record for fans of Ride—recommended on that basis. Newcomers to the group may want to dip their feet earlier in Ride’s catalogue, at least for starters.

Grande has produced some of her best work to date.

They’re solid songs with winning grace notes—”My Kind” opens on a 20-second orchestra-tuning cacophony before finally kicking into power chords, and “Hopeless” bursts into a furious if regrettably brief guitar solo before the final chorus. But they primarily work to show just how much better—both tighter and weirder—the rest of the album is.

Ultimately, like all their albums, especially 2017’s I Used to Spend So Much Time Alone, Live Laugh Love is an exploration of the self. It is unadulterated self-expression in its purest form.

Something in the Room She Moves as a whole seems safe, like coffee table art. One can admire the contents yet not be absorbed by the material.

Audio Vertigo, Elbow’s tenth studio album, is both a return to form and a step into new musical territory. The sound familiar to long-term listeners remains prevalent, while elements of funk and Eurodisco creep into the grooves.

While Deeper Well can be listened to as a companion to Golden Hour, Kacey Musgraves isn’t necessarily trying to recreate its magic formula. Instead, the singer has grown significantly as a musician and lyricist over the last six years.

It sounds like grim going, and in many ways, it is. It’s an endless litany of the eternal horribleness of modern living, set to a relentless onslaught of distorted guitars, corkscrewing bass, pummeling drums, and Korvette’s signature bark. It’d be almost unbearable if it weren’t so damned funny.

Without question, this is one of the better releases from Judas Priest in years, arguably since Angel of Retribution. Still, I can’t help but feel like when I saw the second trilogy of Star Wars movies. They looked great, had superior special effects work, the scale and scope were light years ahead, and the Jedi were far more powerful and gracious but missed the mark and failed to capture the essence, the ambiance, and the panache of the original trilogy.

The Mandrake Project is not the kind of record that is liable to attract new legions of followers. But for an artist this far into his career to still sound energized and committed, especially after the trouble he experienced before its inception, is a creative triumph worth applauding.

It is the sound of a group that have fully clicked and have fine-tuned their signature sound into another high point. The rage is more deeply felt, the self-examination is more bracing, the wins more hard-fought, and the songs are up to carrying the thematic weight through to cathartic highs.

Letter to Yu can be abrasive, like the buzzsaw lead on “Kowloon”, but mostly it gently persuades one to get in the groove. Something is inviting about the Chinese touches on Western dance floor beats. Bolis Pupul belongs to both worlds and invites one to appreciate the connections and juxtapositions between them.

Yes, it’s now the Robinsons’ show with backing musicians. And yes, the swing and inventiveness of the mighty Steve Gorman is missed, but as always, the songs are what matters most, and Happiness Bastards gives us ten good reasons to believe that rock and roll is still a long way from the graveyard.

Bleachers takes steps, stuttering though they may be, towards a more cohesive identity as a band. This record feels less bogged down than its predecessors by glaringly forced attempts at stadium-swelling pop hits better suited for collaborators like Swift.

Untame the Tiger will be irresistible for longtime fans, but hopefully, the recent acknowledgment of her guitar prowess will bring some new listeners to the fold.

Liam Gallagher John Squire might have been the next best thing, but as long as they avoid challenging each other or whatever feels most comfortable to them, middling releases like this one are the unavoidable outcome.

Iyer places his full vision under the concept of “compassion”, but he leads to that point only by finding joy, excitement, and gratitude for the inspirations that have helped him see what he has to offer.

For an artist of such longevity to remain so vibrant is rare. Focus on Nature is a testament to how good songwriting and solid musicianship, in the right hands, never grow old.

Predictably, there are some excellent sad songs to be found here. Just as predictably, though, when the whole thing sounds essentially the same, the impact is blunted. If Lytle decides to make another Grandaddy album after this, let’s hope he’s at least partially in the mood for something a little more rocking.

Under the Sun is eight tracks and 40 minutes long, but every move Maya Shenfeld makes across it seems to happen on a galactic scale. It’s hardly in slow motion, but it requires us to suspend our understanding of time and speed and space and understand something much bigger.

Daniel’s “brand-new old-fashioned” version of Real Estate is totally workable but is also a reminder that the old-fashioned stuff was better.

Grounding these cosmic musings is the music itself. There is an effortless quality to Rooting for Love, with Sadier needing little more than her voice and a simple guitar riff to sketch a compelling pop hook.

For an album that promised to show us the real Jennifer Lopez straight from the heart, it struggles to stand on its own two feet. This Is Me…Now ultimately loses itself in its self-indulgent proclamations of heart and the supposedly greatest love story never told.

The players’ energy and Lund’s vocals drive the songs forward. There’s a liveliness throughout the record that never goes away. The album may be dedicated to an “old man”, but the music has plenty of get-up-and-go.

They end up sounding sort of like Against Me! home demos where a really good bassist just happened to be on hand.

The music is deceptively complex in its simplicity. The individual tracks always carry us to places we didn’t know we were heading.

Though Loss of Life is more reserved, on the whole, the conspicuously backloaded record culminates with a run of songs about sleep, love, and death so deeply felt that it doesn’t matter if MGMT are still joking on some level.

On their third album, Musow Dance, the lineup shifts again, and the energy is as vital as ever as the group continues to celebrate womanhood over some of their most engaging beats to date.

They managed to mask their eclectic influences and occasionally clichéd ideas behind a loud, bold, excessive sound, spectacular visuals, and provocative lyrics about “candle wax melting in my veins”.

Her lyrics are sharp and direct, and the band is there to match her, providing tension and release across all 11 songs. While far from poppy, the songs have a hooky rawness that is addictive.

With the subdued evolution on their new record and a treasured female feature, Omni continue to carve out a distinct identity (with an exacto knife) and shine among the glut of post-punk revivalist bands. That’s a Souvenir worth savoring, for sure.

While TANGK is a mostly successful effort that showcases continued musical growth, it’s hard not to miss the bite that once came with the bark.

Walls Have Ears is certainly less valedictory than Live in Brooklyn 2011. Yet, by virtue of this, it gives a stronger sense of how Sonic Youth earned their unimpeachable credentials through a long-standing ethos of contravention that unsettled musical and artistic complacencies of the time.

Wolfe is as uncompromising a poet as she has ever been on She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She, and while her disparate choices of canvas give us a bumpy ride, it’s one worth taking in good faith.

On Phasor, we are still orbiting and navigating Lange’s particular dreamy sound space with the familiar debris, but this time, there is a stronger emphasis on the power of relational love.

One of this year’s most striking releases so far. Add in a killer style, playful energy, impeccable production, incredible performances, and some very important representation, and you’ve got one of the most striking pop records of the last few years.

There is nothing weighty going on in the lyrics. Think of Spiel as an instructional audio asking one to listen, turn one’s head, and hear the music again.

It’s unlikely this will be a breakthrough to a larger audience, but to the faithful, this is the latest chapter in one of the most consistently rewarding careers in hip-hop.

The nine tracks are relatively brisk and generally run about three minutes long. The short(ish) time spans fit the urgency expressed.

As a long-time lead vocalist and lead guitarist with an established style, J Mascis can’t seem to escape himself. Unplugged or not, What Do We Do Now epitomizes this cul-de-sac.

Saviors probably won’t bring in a lot of new fans, but it will attract lapsed devotees from the past 30 years to check out the band again. These songs will also fit snugly at these upcoming marathon concerts, fitting in snugly between the full album performances of Dookie and American Idiot without sending thousands of people scurrying to the beer lines en masse.

Despite its reserved, dry, soft, and tranquil harmonies, What an Enormous Room sounds even more poppy and self-confident than its predecessors, with its multilayered, luscious-yet-intimate arrangements and a lot of ringing void.

“The Bell” and “Void” take Ty Segall’s listener on an extensive and restless ride in just the first 12 minutes of this 65-minute whopper. The album smooths out a little after that, settling in for 13 more tracks that don’t stray far from what Segall knows and does best.

Carlisle croons in a clear voice layered with dust. He clearly articulates the words and emphasizes the important ones. The details matter. He also lets the syllables slide into each other to express emotions.

Wall of Eyes comes across as a more cohesive project than its older, wilder sibling. Its pace is unhurried, and its songs favor compositional restraint over sheer energy.

People Who Aren’t There Anymore is that rare album where you might find yourself with the unusual but life-affirming compulsion to dance and quietly sob at the same time.

Even with its taut construction, Pick-Up Full of Pink Carnations sags just a bit in the middle. The downside of the renewed focus is that some of the songs sound similar and struggle to assert themselves. .... All of this aside, it is good to hear the Vaccines being a guitar band again—and an excellent one, at that.

Cloudward is a shimmering, deeply satisfying example of a jazz sextet firing on all cylinders. Prepare to be astonished.

It’s good that she kept picking away at that block of ice, as it resulted in what might be her finest album to date.

This record is easy to listen to, forget, and confuse with something else.

Black Dog is the sum of these past strange adventures. The mysterious vibes of The Entiry City, the cold, brutal post-industrial of Unflesh, and the avant-pop musings of Pastoral. It is a work reminiscent of Gazelle Twin but also forges a new path. One that is able not only to merge these disparate aspects but also to surpass them.

Inside the beautiful hot pink mess lies Nicki’s most disciplined and adventurous work to date, one that’s sure to cement her position in a constantly expanding field of female rappers.

No More Blue Skies – a follow-up arriving four years after its predecessor – is a welcome return for fans of Gold Dime, as it includes all of Ambro’s brilliant touchstones. It can be loud and fast, but will also disarm you and create a deeply unsettling atmosphere. Gold Dime are thankfully never boring.

As when he first did it nearly two decades ago, it is an affirming, warm kind of music to serve as a soundtrack for the next valley surely coming for us all.

Of course, anyone who misses the fiery sturm und drang of Grails’ earliest work might somewhat lament their absence on Anches en Maat. The fiddle and fury of their first few records is ancient history at this point, though, and they’ve been reinventing themselves ever since. Thank the deities they have, too.

On Robed in Rareness, Butler takes yet another step in his forward-thinking, far-sighted project, as the opening track title, “Binoculars”, indicates. Despite the brevity of this release, space is still the place.

Kourtesis pieces together all the samples, sounds, and roots she has brought us before in a tighter and more incandescent package than past EPs. Certainly, it’s a debut worth the wait.

It’s another solid, consistent piece of work that shows the country legend having fun and enjoying herself at this point in her career.

As a document of late Superchunk, Misfits & Mistakes provides a fascinating glimpse of them trying new things while reaffirming their signature contributions to the indie rock canon. The sound of Superchunk has aged remarkably well, adapting to our fast-changing times as circumstances have dictated.

Though Higher isn’t Stapleton’s most significant work, it still shows off a remarkable and distinct talent. The album is also a prime example of mainstream country rock at its finest.

The whole album feels like the band are genuinely interested and engaged.

An impressive collection that has made her one of the most notable artists of this year. It will be exciting to hear what comes next.

As far as 21st-century Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark goes, it contains some all-time highs and some all-time lows. Overall, that leaves it as the second-best of the bunch, behind the excellent English Electric (2013).

Sufjan Stevens’ musical journeying over the past two decades comes to its fullness as he grapples with these concepts. Every piece fits perfectly, but more than that, he knows what sort of puzzle to construct.

For the most part, Drop Nineteens play to what they do best, which is creating hooky, melodic songs that don’t shy away from experimental passages and sonic side plots.

Gamble recognizes that AI technology is outstripping our ability to understand or harness it. His latest release can be seen as an unsettling commentary on that reality.

She doesn’t know the meaning of life any more than the rest of us. She has given the question serious thought and created art from the possibilities by singing, playing, and recording over the telephone late at night. That offers its own charming reasons for existence.

Goodbye, Hotel Arkada is a fine album and deserves a listen from any fans of experimental, ambient, and electronic music. At times relaxing and others contemplative of life’s great mysteries, it’s a work of beauty and consideration.

While 1989’s vault tracks aren’t necessarily as immediately attention-grabbing as those from other re-releases, they still pack an emotional punch like only Swift can deliver.

Coyote is more melodrama than human drama. The material is worth hearing because of its merits rather than for insights about its creator.

Longtime fans will probably find plenty to like, even love, about History Books. The Gaslight Anthem are in fine form; Fallon’s still a charismatic singer, and he still shows flashes of brilliance in his lyrics.

For fans, Joni Mitchell Archives, Vol. 3: The Asylum Years (1972-1975) is a towering achievement. (It should be noted here that the set is also available on an edited, four-LP box.) However, the uninitiated would be better off purchasing the remasters of the original releases, The Asylum Albums (1972-1975). That said, it’s weird that the two complete live concerts are not available separately from the boxed set and are spread over more than one disc. They are worth buying the boxed set for in and of itself because they are so good.

Isn’t It Now? summarizes some of their best attributes. It also shines a harsh light on their self-circumscribed limits.

There are enough interesting ideas to keep the record from becoming a slog. Even the tracks that aren’t mesmerizing at least have some worthwhile elements to focus on. However, listeners who are more attuned to psychedelic and ambient music may get more out of those pieces.

Margo Cilker serves as a stand-in for all of us, which is why she can get her audiences to sing with her in concert or make listeners pay attention to the details in Valley of Heart’s Delight. She trusts in her visions of the outside world to tell the story of what she finds within her heart.

Troye Sivan’s Something to Give Each Other offers pop music enthusiasts a much-needed reprieve from the more emo offerings of Olivia Rodrigo or Billie Eilish. But the record falls short of its own standards, set high by the success of its predecessor and lost in its own ecstasy and provocative imagination.

If Yard evinces any steps forward for Slow Pulp, they are baby steps. There is an argument to be made, though, for being consistently good rather than only intermittently great.

With 11 tracks at 44 minutes, it feels more affirmed and settled, neither breaking fresh ground nor uncritically repeating past ideas.

Crazymad, for Me is a portrait of how we rationalize our behavior as a way of coping rather than a therapeutic dream. It’s a good thing the real Thompson presumably is not the actual CMAT. It’s an engaging fantasy.

Her lyrics are open to multiple interpretations. Her voice is accompanied by musical arrangements that range from the silly to the sublime to spoken word, depending on her message. Jamila Woods has a good sense of humor and engages in wordplay and childlike melodies to affect a mood or make a point.

Despite its open orchestration and more experimental bent, it is Modern Nature’s least interesting release.

The record is quite an accomplishment and an excellent vehicle for the singer’s estimable talents. It’s a low-key yet unequivocal triumph.

Synthetic or acoustic percussion, Perspective is another release demonstrating that Jlin is a genre unto herself.