On Timbuktu, Oumou Sangaré continues to prove how much work she puts in to maintain her reputation as a musical force and yet how open she is to worthwhile sonic change. There’s not a sound or note wasted.

A Bit of Previous explores a candid, though less thoughtful, space in which guitarist Stevie Jackson’s Neil Diamond pastiche (“Deathbed of My Dreams”) is happy to sit alongside a congregational ode to Ukraine (“If They’re Shooting at You”) and a Huey Lewis-esque synth bop (“Talk to Me Talk to Me”).

SCALPING’s broad eclecticism is refreshing. That said, it’s ironic that Void is occasionally repetitive, as if the band agreed upon a repertoire of sources and sounds through which they somewhat systematically cycle. At times, a listener wonders if the project is less an aesthetic enterprise and more a workshop exercise in audial collage. That said, Void does indeed energetically capture what is essentially music designed for a club/real-time environment.

Fierce Bliss has a few breakthrough moments, but overall it steps back to familiar ground: too much thunder and not enough light.

Alpha Games shows a great band engaging with their sound yet growing and expanding.

The vast creativity and breadth of this project are impressive. Along with the great music, a suite of short films operates as a gorgeous visual interpretation of the music. Though, Röyksopp have sworn off releasing “traditional studio albums”, judging from Profound Mysteries, this new stage in their career is exciting and captivating.

Skinty Fia is rich, diverse, and suggestive. It self-consciously roots itself in identity, culture, and style while simultaneously moving forward with the maturation of theme and sound.

The individual tracks don’t have conventional beginnings, middles, and ends. Instead, they seem to dwell in a space where time doesn’t pass. The music exists as a presence. There is something cosmic about the experience, leavened by Tomberlin’s sense of humor.

Giving the World Away‘s preoccupation with alt-pop sensibilities also allows for a concrete listening experience scarcely found in Hatchie’s discography up until this point, especially as she learns to trust her gut and listen to the rhythm within.

If El Mirador is Calexico’s way of building an inclusive bridge, they have ensured it has a strong foundation. Along the way, they offer a hearty nod to the city that made them and even introduce a few new musical tricks to the fold.

The record is easily accessible on a surface level, and as a series of irresistible moments, it’s almost unparalleled.

Whether they’re being more or less faithful to the sound of Terry and McGhee or taking off from it, these two masters have made an album that honors the artists who inspired them so many years ago.

At 15 songs (including two instrumentals), (watch my moves) may overstay its welcome, but its best moments entrance and enthrall, proving that Kurt Vile takes his time to set a mood and a groove and invites us in for a hang we can’t resist.

While Rossen’s debut may not always soothe its listeners, as the 2012 release Silent Hour/Golden Mile EP might have done, You Belong There is a solo record worthy of much praise and admiration.

Wallows accomplishes the sophomore album goals of proving they can produce quality work and build a fanbase, but through different means. They retrospectively examine their place in pop culture to assert their status as trending artists.

Cabello possesses the talent to transcend it all. It’s just a shame when she succumbs to phoning it in.

Electricity thrills from start to finish, yet another well-crafted work from a band that continually shows itself to be unbound by categories of space, time, and genre. This is past, present, and future funk all rolled into one and ready for a fantastic time.

They are more atmospheric and rhythmic than narrative and follow tangents into unexplored places. As both narrator and protagonist, Hval starts in a waking state and then lets the songs float away into unknown territory.

The moments on Chloë and the Next 20th Century that seem normal and traditional are executed so perfectly that you can’t fault Tillman for simply making a pop album of the highest order. But when the album delivers surprising, sometimes jarring episodes, it’s a reminder that Father John Misty is an important, unique, and undeniably brilliant artist.

Fear of the Dawn reveals a mature White who is not only at the height of this prowess as a guitarist whose effects have formed a unique signature he both hones and transgresses. The album finds him reaching new heights as a producer and creative experimenter.

Farewell Horizontal will please those who want to hear six different versions of “You Are a Light”.

Its cryptic lyrics and heavy subject matter may not be for some, but thanks to Francis’ characterized vocals, they become, at times, indistinct from the music. This album has a sense of urgency and visceral intensity, and DITZ rarely bore with their snotty, twisted, and deadly playing.

Tuttle isn’t radically reinventing the bluegrass genre on Crooked Tree, but her willingness to explore different sides of the genre and stretch into folk and cowboy styles serves her well. There’s a lot of musical variety on the album and it’s well sequenced. The fast-paced tracks outnumber the slower stuff, but everything is interspersed in a way that makes the record a breezy listen.

Even after years of anchoring their sound around the warped dance sensibility fans have come to expect, Famously Alive captures a band that can only do so much to compromise their magnificent strangeness.

Chiu and Honer’s interpretations of this space build a sense of place at the intersection of their lived experience and the unique geography of the archipelago, and it’s this sense that they share with us on this new release.

Leave the Light On sets its aim as high as possible and rarely misses—fun, vast in its soundscape, it effortlessly takes hold of you with its power. But even in that massive scope, it is surprisingly intimate and humanistic, making it just as thoughtful, if not more so, than Pillow Queens’ debut.

It’s a shame that TILT has a few lesser productions because they detract from the bubbly, effervescent thrill that fans have come to expect from Confidence Man. TILT is still a ridiculously fun record with a distinct identity, proving that the group can still get listeners to euphoric carefree highs through different means.

If Never Let Me Go at least finds a musical footing, what really dooms it is the songwriting—or lack thereof. Molko uses the same stilted, broken phrasing in too many songs as if he is pausing mid-verse to try and think up a vocal hook.

There are some diamonds in the rough, and it’s seldom uninteresting, but just like a drunk cousin at a wedding, who can make you laugh and is a good lead, Broken Equipment can occasionally grate as it wears you out.

The duo is always tinkering around the edges of their sonic universe, getting darker, weirder, subtler, and more expansive. They do all of that on Once Twice Melody, and the payoff is enormous.

The songwriting throughout is excellent, and Sea Girls have expanded their sound in small but successful ways. They’ve found ways to write songs without building to an anthemic chorus every time and have figured out how to slow down without sacrificing their energy level.

“If My Wife New I’d Be Dead” is a fully formed debut, replete with big choruses, imaginative song ideas, and enough charm to carry the album’s almost one-hour running time.

While this collection is certainly no “lost” album due to its decade-long overview and the attention it gives to Sonic Youth’s more experimental side, Three Lobed has curated something that feels purposeful.

Warm Chris, Aldous Harding occasionally strikes gold but more often falls short of the rich textures and melodic immediacies of previous work.

On the whole, Raum certainly isn’t Phaedra or Rubycon, but that’s okay. Its simplistic, elegiac beauty pays homage to those classic LPs while remaining grounded in 2022.

As an entry into Destroyer, LABYRINTHITIS succeeds in a plethora of ways, but where it works the most is in transforming a notoriously prickly artist into one with the unforeseen capacity to retract his spikes.

Johnson has created a truly striking piece of art here, even more ambitious and experimental than her previous Matchess releases. And that’s saying a lot.

If one were to disregard the heavy-handed preaching, they would find a prog jazz album that is, if not necessarily uneven in quality, uneven in temperament. It makes for an eclectic mix but could potentially wreak havoc on an unsuspecting listener just looking for another jubilant crossover release. Best to know where you stand first.

There’s a little bit of fire and brimstone to the songs Daniel Gonora sings on Hard Times Never Kill, but it’s clear from his sincere delivery and the love with which his band comes together that what he wants is for his people to be safe and well.

Franz Ferdinand’s potential is repeatedly hinted at rather than fully realized. If this career shortcut can give us any consolation, it’s that it’s better to show potential than to have none at all.

It requires some sustained attention on our part and takes us in surprising directions, at times appearing disjointed or jarring. Its creativity is not formulaic and offers a challenging authenticity. But there are unexpected rewards that emerge from sustained and careful attention to the contours of its landscape.

With Angel in Realtime, Gang of Youths have elevated their work to new echelons of arena rock potential. Listening to it from start to finish is something genuinely satisfying.

Drug Church’s ability to pull off this multiplicity deserves huge praise. In doing so, they’ve bent the aging punk and hardcore genre into new shapes whilst also becoming tighter, sharper, and more accessible.

This album is a grand balancing act of making everything heard and felt and of letting all these disparate instruments come to the fore without overwhelming. It’s the ultimate task of expression. Throughout it all, Spaceman’s beautifully weathered voice is the one calming element that stays with us.

Once again, Tobias Forge has come through with a slick, wickedly catchy collection of songs that are certain to please Ghost’s rapidly growing audience.

Bridwell has a very clear vision for his band and presents it well. His smart lyrics match his previous standards, and the group execute the album well, but it feels too much as if they’re standing in place.

The real pleasure of the record is hearing how Lindemann and her accompaniment shape each song around those musings.

Albeit brief, with Crystal Nuns Cathedral, Pollard and co. have struck gold once again, delivering a hi-fi record that proves itself to be just as virtuosic and inventive as any indie rock album of recent memory.

Occasionally, Nelson drops his icy façade for a moment of home-spun warmth and “sincerity”, whatever that means; for this, look no further than the wondrous acoustics of “Nightwater”, which lacks some of the sonic depth of other compositions herein but, as a work of solos, has surprising bite.

There’s nothing unexpected in the idea that she would release such a strong album right now. In another way, though, it’s just further evidence that magic always surprises.

On I’m Not Sorry, I Was Just Being Me, Whittle’s sonic forays and Merrick’s downcast yet sultry vocals make for a charismatic blend. The result is a sequence at times irksomely familiar, but it also captures a vital response to the crises and perils of present-day life.

Ocean Child may not move Yoko Ono’s songs into the mainstream, but if it only introduces a modest audience to her music, Ben Gibbard’s efforts will have been well worth it. This record gives plenty of much-needed exposure to the songs of one of our most misunderstood and unfairly ignored artists.

Even if Lavigne intended to make something short and silly, it speaks to a larger mainstream conversation of the supposed limits surrounding women’s ability to remain interesting in pop culture. Love might indeed suck, but we know that Avril is capable of so much more.

Whether you prefer the orchestral versions of The Garden or the pop stylings of the originals is a matter of taste. Rather than pit the renditions against one another, they should be judged on their own merits. As with any garden, the endeavor requires patience, but the rewards are delectable.

While McCaughn’s lyrics grapple with the realities of 2020 and 2021, Superchunk’s songs are upbeat and anthemic.

There is strength in numbers, and Andy Bell’s rise to the double album challenge is as strong as anything that carries the Ride name.

Sarah Shook and the Disarmers capture that nocturnal vibe where darkness illuminates the unknown more than hides what should be seen.

The amount of variety Daniel and company manage to pack into ten songs while still feeling cohesive is impressive. The lack of flashy personality makes Spoon easy to overlook, but as always, the songwriting and performance are top-notch.

The Tipping Point is a joyous reminder of their one-of-a-kind partnership, and it should be celebrated by old and new fans alike.

It’s not clear if some of the songs are confessional and concern Trent and Hearst’s marriage. There seem to be personal statements on songs like “Divide & Conquer” and “Bleed Me”, but they could be personae instead. As music, the actual truth doesn’t matter as much as the emotional weight they carry.

On Memoria, there is nothing new under the moon. The territory and sounds are familiar but the magic is in the arrangement: the orchestration of tension and the release of tension, and the tight-rope balancing act between showing and keeping it veiled.

Some songs feature snippets of spoken word dialogues and other musical accompaniment, but as a whole, the album offers an intimacy between Segarra and her audience. Segarra is the voice crooning in your ear.

Though it takes a few listens – Rashad’s vocals are intentionally deep in the mix – Electric Cowboy gradually reveals itself to be more than just a light party album.

The mishmash creates a decorative delight rather than cacophony, from the old-fashioned string arrangements on “Cosmic Sigh” to the more contemporary electric guitar licks that adorn the melody of “True Love’s Face”.

It’s a testimony to Shamir’s breathtaking talent that he can put together an album as emotionally and sonically complex and ambitious and still deliver a concise, smart, and cohesive album.

Earthling is a grounded, earnest, weird, and sometimes corny album. It’s is a hodgepodge of inspiration, whims, and deep contemplation. It’s also a very uncalculated album – nothing is hidden or shielded in irony or convoluted symbolism. Earthling wears its earnestness on its sleeve and that is an underrated asset.

While the stand-alone OST might lack this overt humor [of the film's end credits], what it doesn’t lack is the film’s personality and intrigue. I’m left hoping there’s a continuation of The Runner’s story and its sound-world too.

Indie’s most eclectic ensemble are not slowing down so much as aging gracefully. The Dream confirms that it’s worth aging with them.

While the album is missing the manic discontent that often made its way into earlier work, the relative restfulness of the music belies Fish’s disillusion and frustration with the current state of affairs.

What elevates Antidawn to a work of genius is not just this dexterous use of materials, the intricate detail, the disciplined avoidance of obviousness. To me, this feels like an entirely new genre of field recording. Here, Bevan hasn’t merely documented uncanny fragments of nature or some grand scene; he’s come close to painting a sonic portrait of domestic life.

While Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You is indeed a lot of things, if it’s anything in particular, it’s a flex. It’s a reassertion that the band can essentially do no wrong, and even when they get close, it’s easier to interpret them toeing the borders of brilliance.

It’s a fascinating project and a rewarding listen. Longtime fans of the band should get a kick out of this record, and hopefully, Tony Rice aficionados will appreciate the new interpretations of these songs.

There are moments where it feels like Los Bitchos could go prog-rock and follow a musical idea for another ten minutes, but they always manage to pull back and stick to pop song lengths for their tunes.

Good and Green Again sounds as if it might have been released any time over the last 50 years without aging a day. Without knowledge of the tracks’ origins, it will fool listeners into assuming it’s one of the sweetest singer-songwriter efforts of at least the past half-decade.

With its multi-layered arrangements and art-rock leanings, it’s miles away from the freaky folk of Me Oh My or Cyrk. But there were times I felt adrift in abstraction and wished for a simple rhyming couplet to ground me. I can hardly fault any artist for wanting to remake and challenge themselves, however, and Cate Le Bon does that successfully with Pompeii.

The disregard for conventional structure and instrumentation, combined with the adroit, sincere lyrics, makes Ants From Up There one of the richest and most emotionally-honest albums released by a young British band for quite some time.

These songs are like travel diaries full of passing observations and attempts to make sense of them within a grander picture. The album carries a somber tone. Loneliness and a longing for something distant, perhaps warmth and affection, permeate these songs.

It’s so fun, it’s so winkingly subversive, and we for sure cannot survive another multi-year wait between releases. This album is a hell of a Fix.

More than two decades since their debut, North Mississippi Allstars – who currently include the Dickinson brothers along with bassist Jesse Williams and vocalists Lamar Williams Jr. and Sharisse Norman — are still creating memorable music but from a decidedly more mellow state of mind. That’s evident from the first notes of the opening title track from their new album Set Sail.

Mitski frequently mixes the pre-COVID love song trope about the danger of opening one’s heart to a stranger with the more contemporary fear of just going out into the world. She keeps the details vague.

Ghost Stories is a hauntingly beautiful record about life after death—the real physical one as well as the end of friendships and love.

Despite being a songwriter who has decided that his crazy dreams just came and went, Mellencamp pours himself into his music with an undiminished passion. The album is a pleasure to listen to—even if for Mellencamp what used to hurt so good now just hurts.

The constant push and pull behind Der Lange Marsch can be a frightening thing, but it doesn’t have to be that and only that. It can also be absorbed as an album of excellent impressionist achievement, worthy of the GAS name.

The guest list is pretty starry and impressive. However, Alexander’s still the headliner on the album, and he has the charisma, charm, and talent that even with the incredible star power of Kylie and Sir Elton, the best moments are his own.

Imarhan have always been strongest for their subtleties, and never more so than on the immaculately crafted tracks of Aboogi. This group amplifies their and their neighbors’ local experiences as Kel Tamasheq citizens of the world, and the music they make in doing so dazzles every time.

11:11 will placate Pinegrove’s dedicated fanbase. It’s unclear whether it will harvest many new ‘pinenuts’, but it turns our faces to the flora, and in 2022 that’s far more rewarding than emo’s usual nebulous yearning.

It is a jarring, inventive, exciting, and compelling album that deserves and rewards multiple listens. Its creativity and complexity sketch out innovative new paths for this band as they approach one decade of artistry together. If The Alien Coast is any indication, we are in for boundary-defying joy in the future.

Vocals are delivered straight-forwardly, instrumental solos are kept to a minimum, and there’s a general sense of presenting things honestly in a documentary style. That fits the material which would most naturally be at home in a small-town church.

The final results are lushly layered and sophisticated. O’Donovan is often considered a singer-songwriter and folkie, but this release finds her music hard to pigeonhole as its connections to contemporary jazz and even classical music are clearly evident.

Fragments sounds too much like a victory lap to feel like a compelling artistic statement. There’s nothing wrong with being accessible, but Fragments just doesn’t bring enough new ideas to the table. The album represents a rare step back from one of the 21st century’s leading electronic luminaries.

Interestingly, the near-constant use of spoken word doesn’t ever become grating. The band have a knack for making their instrumentals minimalistic enough for the vocals to always feel natural while also unique.

Forfolks is Jeff Parker on his own, but it’s a selfless statement. Here the music, like life, thrives in collaboration, and context is everything. On Forfolks, the music is a shared consciousness that keeps expanding long after its closing notes.

Water is a dense and mutable project, a tour de force for what a thematic album can be.

The duo, who recorded during a very small window of opportunity during the pandemic shutdowns, show they are a synergistic pairing, creating music that seems more expansive than imaginable for just two musicians playing “live” in a studio without overdubs. Though the cuts are played with modern electronics, the songs are a thing apart from contemporary music, tapping ancient spirits and an emotional depth that modern pop seldom comes near.

Earthwork is a fitting representation of the music he’s created in various configurations over the years: unbounded, deeply meditative, and full of noisy swaths of inspiration.

New Decade may be the perfect distillation of this sonic alliance Phew created, existing as it does outside of any trends or genre tags. As a result, Phew continues to push forward by crawling deep inside.

The new Melvins LP – well, to be accurate, four of the Melvins’ new LPs – is again an expectation-defying wonder. It’s far from perfect and pristine, but we’ve come to love these guys without all the lines cleanly placed.

Swift lays the groundwork of her songs with good chords in Red (Taylor’s Version), but she also enhances the songs’ power with catchy lyrics and melodies (“You fooound me / You fooound me / You fooound me-e-e-e-“).