It’s as good an album by a Rostam-less Vampire Weekend in 2019 as we could have possibly gotten, and the sound is a return to Vampire Weekend and Contra except arguably better with the ‘upgraded’ production and thoughtful textures. The change from indie to mainstream in the tiniest of microcosms: a Vampire Weekend album.

DJ Dahi, Sounwave and Cardo handle the bulk of beats here, with additional help from ScHoolboy staples Nez & Rio, plus the venerable Boi-1da and Jake One. Except the results are less DAMN. and more Redemption, the Jay Rock album from last year that everyone has already forgotten.

Ultimately, since it took them 7 years to follow-up their last album, both of the Let’s Try the After EPs function, at the very least, as a stop-gap until their next one.

This is the most disjointed record in Weezer’s discography. Its probably not the worst but its right there with Raditude and Make Believe.

For an album with both a Eurythmics cover AND a Black Sabbath cover it’s a surprisingly listenable, albeit pointless entry in their discography, Weezer has spent a decade becoming more interesting to read about than listen to.

The aquatic theme of the album is appropriate and in line with the atmosphere Lennox’s quirky, gentle guitar-plucking consistently evokes. But this, nor the occasional flashes of beauty throughout the album, are enough to recommend Buoys’ unremarkable lonely beach music.

What Grande has honed on thank u, next is the way she cunningly interweaves modern r&b patois and beats that brush up against the boundaries of top 40.

This is rhythmically agile music, thankfully. The songwriting is sturdy, too, even if it can sometimes feel like Bradford & friends are running on an autopilot setting set to David Bowie’s Low.

His chillwave sensibilities remain, but they’re bolstered by more direct elements from the popular hip-hop and disco funk sounds of today.

Her instincts as a songwriter--one of the best of the decade, surely--have not been diminished or neglected in her pursuit of an expanded, sometimes experimental sound. These ten new songs, some of her best yet, brim with heart and wisdom.

Assume Form is at its best, unsurprisingly, when he works at the periphery of his formulae.

For a producer who’s produced songs for a who’s who of modern artists (including the occasional non-rapper like Lana Del Rey), he mostly sticks to his guns on his debut album, which applies to both the sonics (there was no way any producer sampling Annie’s “Anthonio”--the Berlin Breakdown version--was going to be bad; that’s the ear-worming sample doing all the heavy-lifting on “Overdue”) and the features.

All told, Oneohtrix Point Never’s latest album is good, but it’s also his worst ‘proper’ album since his critical breakthrough. In attempting (but not fully committing to) his most accessible release, Age Of doesn’t feel like it’ll go down well with any particular audience.

Ultimately, easily one of the most simultaneously hardest and atmospheric hip-hop albums of the year.

Ultimately, the bigged up production doesn’t suit .Paak’s soulful tendencies, which are further lost in his switch to rap. There are a few highlights, sure, but not nearly enough for an artist who I would’ve placed bets would be the next Big Thing.

Because it deviates from what fans expected, Sweetener takes a couple rotations to sink in, but if you give it time, you’ll see Ariana Grande really threw it down when she took down her ponytail.

A great way to approach I’m All Ears is by thinking of it as a jam session, where both Walton and Hollingworth experiment news ways of making music and detailing experience. It allows for a mishmash of elements and influences to come together in a bizarre and ultimately rewarding experience.

His flow has gotten really same-y over the years: “Sandra’s Rose” occasionally recalls “Weston Road Flows” and the following “Talk Up” brings “Gyalchester” to mind. It’s also weird that the R&B disc comes with so little hooks, something we used to be able to count on Drake for. It doesn’t help that Drake really likes his minimalistic beats.

Lyrically, High as Hope forsakes Welch’s knack for vibrant imagery and symbolism for more human modifiers and concerns. While it allows her to share more personal information, Welch’s straightforward songwriting means there are no “Howl”’s or “Ship to Wreck”’s present here. ... Despite these critiques, High as Hope surpasses many of them to solidify itself as a decent record.

Liberation never reaches the heights fans likely wanted from Xtina, it serves as a pleasant refresher for a voice that has earned its place in the annals of pop history. That said, it’s a bit sad to feel like her finest moments are, at least for now, also in her past.

A record this nondescript’s just detracting from what we could be listening to instead.

Songs like this [“Adam and Eve”]--and “Stay” from Life is Good--suggest that Nas might’ve done better had he picked slower, more melancholic beats and rapped like the elder statesman he is, rather than whatever we actually got on the record.

The production here is all skeletal beats but heavy-hitting drums, letting Thought do most of the heavy-lifting on his own. ... Ultimately, Thought’s first solo release does what’s expected of him; I just wish it did a little more.

It is an album far less fun than her previous ones, but that’s the point: Allen’s a bit tired of fun, and isn’t afraid to admit that “fun” can sometimes be the source of your troubles.

A personal triumph that continues her revamping of what pop means today. Its contents show a trajectory from acts like Art of Noise into ‘90s pop and Eurodance to today’s droning and experimental music by acts such as Lotic.

The experimentation keeps things interesting and is a rare and welcome sight for a musician in his fifties, but it’s the songs that aim for summer afternoon in the suburbs of “Gold Soundz” or “Range Life” that are his forte and the album’s best.

It’s not her best (nothing is quite like “Get Some”) but it’s a fresh change from an artist who gave us both subtle and surefire signs she might head in this direction.

Another rare instance of an artist coming up with a classic a decade after what seemed like the peak of his career (Clipse’s Hell Hath No Fury), and the only thing that could’ve made it better was if he pre-released “Infrared” so that Drake could’ve responded and we could’ve had an album with “The Story of Adidon” on it.

All told, Ye is thin gruel when placed next to Kanye’s intellectual transgressions, not to mention an impeccable oeuvre. As an aural experience, it offers a mix of triumph and nostalgia. Results will vary, depending on your willingness to embark on this very short, often thrilling, ride. But for an artist defined by grandiosity, Ye is frustratingly slight.

This is the kind of album you might find yourself less inclined to play all the way through than scroll through the tracklist and queue up songs at will, but there’s enough great music here that you could have a new favorite song every day.

Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino is the best possible kind of average record, one that goes out swinging. One that goes for it on every level. A record that, although it isn’t great by any typical metric, is extremely curious and entertaining.

Its arc is more satisfying than those of Narkopop or Konigsförst, though it lacks either of those albums’ sense of vastness. It certainly pales next to Pop and the underloved Zauberberg, which I’ve always felt were tied for the title of Voigt’s masterpiece.

Tell Me How You Really Feel peaks midway, on “Nameless, Faceless”. The album’s lead single, with its descending guitar notes and a Margaret Atwood reference, finds Barnett employing old tools to tackle a newsworthy social ill. It’s breathless and gutting, a short and sweet examination of sex and violence. It draws blood, but so does the rest of the album.

Though it dissects insecurities and shortcomings as much as it does success, Dirty Computer unabashedly refuses to downplay or apologize for its behavior. ... With this forthright attitude comes fresh ways for Monáe to play on subject matters.

Beach House’s new record 7, lives up to all the hype you can heap on it and more. 7 is massive and intimate, dense yet understandable, fresh yet classic.

Singularity is the follow up every fan would hope for. It's larger; it's denser; it's quicker. It’s a 63-minute microhouse masterpiece. It rebroadcasts Hopkins’ sound as a more atmospheric, clearer vision.

Sometimes Cardi B runs out of things to say. “Bartier Cardi”, though it rips, repeats its extensive chorus five different times. “Money Bag” stomps forward with “Bodak Yellow”’s flow and sound, and in my opinion, last year’s favorite record pales in comparison to the strides she makes on Invasion… The vulnerability on display in the standout “Be Careful”, where Cardi B shows off a soft singing voice and a softer side, is a perfect example.

Uchis’s voice possesses a bit of that wooden Winehouse timbre, but it comes out the same way Uchis does everything else, leisurely. Its slight lilt sometimes puts her out of tune, yet the imperfections play very much into Isolation’s outsider status.

Sex and Food is a beautiful introspection and a far better answer to the day’s political malaise and helplessness than my usual response of embarking on an enraged and slutty food binge.

The way it ping-pongs between pastiche and higher art is interesting. But so much of this music has been done better by other artists that it’s understandable if you see no reason to listen to 2012-2017 in favor of superior disco edits by Tiger & Woods or DJ Harvey, or more beguiling avant-acid house by Africans with Mainframes--or, y’know, a Nicolas Jaar album.

Julian has been leading us here since First Impressions of Earth, he has finally made his no-fi, bonkers masterpiece.

Pleasure for the listener is probably moot for a project like this, but Elverum has an instinctive gift for immersive, imagistic arrangements, and it’s wonderful to hear him indulge it again on Now Only.

Jack White missed, but in the best possible way. As weak as this record is, its extremely entertaining.

Space Gun is one of Pollard’s best. ... Unlike almost all the rest, there is virtually no filler here.

Like Summer Sun, there’s more ambience, more general keyboard and synth blear, more lounge-pad speckles and dots, but the songwriting is rudimentary even by this band’s standards and the tone color doesn’t vary as much as they maybe thought it did.

It’s a hearty mix, but that’s not to communicate that Superorganism are just good curators, they also are fresh creators.

On the 2018 remake (full title: Twin Fantasy (Face to Face)), Toledo maintains his vulnerability but hides behind layers of noise and production value. ... But if Toledo’s production sensibilities are still a work in progress, his sense of humor and wit continue to shine through.

Generally speaking, where Black Panther succeeds most is in these moments where Kendrick blends South African and American sounds together.

Now we have Little Dark Age. The true follow up to Congratulations, the record that is doomed to enjoy the benefit of the regret of the music writers who panned Congratulations and also to enjoy the inevitable backlash against the backlash. The record is more than good enough to earn these accolades. The highs are very high.

The highlights aren’t as colorful as we’ve come to expect from Timbaland or the Neptunes, or as tuneful as we’ve come to expect from Justin Timberlake.

So what has five years changed? Not much, in the best possible way. More smooth soul commentaries on sensuality and longing, more time shaped melodies and movements. The differences between their Woman and Blood are the subtle groove changes.

Migos have mastered their craft, but they spend too much time delivering what we expect instead of exploring their more interesting caprices.

Ruins isn’t a bad record, or a weak one, it’s a boring one.

Semicircle’s many pleasures--of melody, of tone color, of ideals never losing the beat--deserve an essay’s worth of exposition (no, really).

There’s just too many wasted opportunities, like the peculiar absence of Zaytoven (would it not have been nice to hear Thugger over Zay’s keys?) and Metro Boomin (who has produced beats for both); the usually reliable Mike Will Made It hands in a severely underutilized vocal sample on “Mink Flow” and collects his paycheck.

Like [Prince's 1981 album] Controversy’s title track handing off to “Sexuality” or many other examples, there are stylistic switches in War & Leisure too: the aforementioned “City of Angels” between the album’s two best grooves (“Told You So” and “Caramelo Duro”), but the switches don’t feel natural--they just feel like the “shuffle” was the chosen method of sequencing. Too much leisure, not enough war.

This record is diet U2. Its pop-rock disguised as Important Rock and the disguise is transparent. “Blackout” and “You’re The Best Thing About Me” are the chief offenders.

All told, it’s another win in both artists’ books, but a mild one.

The best song comes early in “Ghostface Killers”, with an excellent rapped chorus from Offset that’s been running through my head since the tape dropped and Travis Scott sounding excellent as always even if he doesn’t say much anything at all.

Reputation is, too often, an ugly sounding album. But Taylor Swift has a superhuman knack for a stunning melody. Many of these songs are downright sweet.

Open Mike Eagle is one of the few artists that seems to improve with every release, and just when you thought he couldn’t get better than a full collaboration with Paul White on yesteryear’s Hella Personal Film Festival, he does just that. It helps that the various producers manage to make unique beats that still fit in with the album’s general aesthetic.

This is the kind that makes you want to go back and listen to his older stuff, if only to remind you he’s capable of wonders.

At the end of it, this record is a mixed bag. Fans of Weezer’s poppier side will find plenty to like. Whereas fans of Weezer’s more well regarded records will wish they chose another producer.

Turn Out the Lights is an exciting sophomore effort from an even more exciting artist. While the album isn’t a tremendous leap forward from Sprained Ankle, Baker emerges with her vision and voice more fully formed. Wherever she goes from here, the world will be waiting to meet her.

Plunge is a worthy addition to Dreijer’s career discography, and fans of Fever Ray and the Knife are sure to enjoy it. It’s an energetic and erotic record that may very well soundtrack some of the freakier parties you attend this fall. Still, it doesn’t capture the full scope of Dreijer’s ambition.

The Ooz is an Archy Marshall hash, the strange scraps of his brain stewed into something unrecognizable and delicious.

What’s left is an artist reframing the landscape, a reverse-chameleon who can’t camouflage, but transforms the world around her instead. “Pop” is the sound of a bubble bursting.

Colors is the opposite of The Information. The first time you listen to it, you know its average and you keep listening, begging it to give something that hasn’t had its edges shaved off by a production style that strips all weird aesthetics in favor of aerodynamics that no one wanted and no one will like.

Although the overall album lacks cohesion, Double Dutchess’ sonic diversity does remind you of Fergie’s versatility as a performer, one who spits, warbles, and belts all across the project. The only thing is, she brings little innovation or excitement to the many genres she channels.

The one redeeming quality behind this whole project is Cyrus’ twangy voice, which saves this project from being entirely pointless. In her lower registers, Cyrus draws you into her husk and warmth. It is in these moments she reveals the traces of an artist who otherwise remains absent from this album.

This is a record where the sum is greater than the parts, whereas The Epic was its parts (and having a lot of them). Harmony of Difference is another win in Kamasi Washington’s book.

Haiku From Zero has none of its strength in songs or clarity of goal. The electro-funk mixed with the alternative dance and light tropicalia percussion ends up tasting like pizza and pie and popsicles all at the same time. It isn’t that this record is bad, its just meh.

On Wonderful Wonderful, there are glimpses of that ambition on an otherwise routine album from a top-notch band on autopilot. But if the Killers want to capture the moment like they did a decade ago, they’ll have to want it more.

Luciferian Towers is a better album than Asunder. I’d venture that it’s even better than 2012’s Allelujah! Don’t Bend, Ascend! by virtue of its interludes not being completely disposable. It’s less bold than their earliest and best work (I wish they’d make another double LP one of these days), but it bodes well for their future, and stands as one of the best albums of the year.

Perhaps one of the most macabre albums of the year, Okovi shines in its ability to beautifully illustrate a disturbing but ultimately shared human experience.

While the album is beautiful both sonically and lyrically, in some of the tracks, Batmanglij falls into his older artistic patterns that feel played out. However, if you weren’t aware that he was in Vampire Weekend, this might not be as obvious.

Title track aside, this a really good album by a really sketchy guy.

Too little is far better than too much as dozens of overstuffed double albums have taught fans of each decade. Every song here is a hit and Antisocialites is brilliant.

It’s a different kind of thing now, even if the fundamentals are unchanged. It finds the National snapping out of the comfortable groove they’ve settled in over the last decade, fuelled by strife, battle-tested wisdom, and a touch of righteousness.

American Dream is as close to a unified artistic statement that Murphy has delivered. I’d argue it’s his first front-to-back, total triumph.

Even though it doesn’t do nearly enough to distinguish itself from the band’s earlier albums, it’s an enjoyable enough listen that it’s not too hard to excuse its flaws.

Bronson still creates a respectable hip-hop trilogy (not many of those), and gives us his most worthwhile long-player since 2012’s Rare Chandeliers.

While Milo’s lyrical wit has remained sharp over the years, the beats he raps over have gotten better and better with every release, culminating in Who Told You To Think??!!?!?!?! as the best batch of beats he’s rapped over.

Sophomore album Always Strive and Prosper had ASAP Ferg striving to expand his lyrical and sonic palette and prospering less than half of the time. Still Striving then, perhaps self-consciously titled, course-corrects by dropping pretense and delivering what we came to Ferg for in the first place: banging beats, fire flows. Some of the time, anyway. 11 out of 14 of these tracks have guest features, and a high percentage of them don’t leave much impression.

Only when you dive in does the beauty reveal itself. Grizzly Bear have never been afraid to expect something of the listener. That’s never been truer than on Painted Ruins.

Rainbow may not contain the electrobops you expect from Kesha Sebert, but at its heart, it does possess what drew everyone to her in the first place: confidence, sonic booms, and an assurance that everything will be alright when the storm clears.

While Mensa’s flow is capable enough (especially on the opening two tracks, which are some of the album’s best), he also indulges in some painfully cheesy lines, from references to television shows long dead (“Tryna take over the world like Pinky and the Brain”) no matter how ham-fisted (“If she see her name, she get Goku tough”).

Overall, Mellow Waves sits nicely in Cornelius’ discography. Not as scene as Fantasma or exploratory as Point. This record uses the studio magic in a more utilitarian way.

Whereas previous shifts in sound were organic, the product of natural growth, this one comes off as obligatory and cheap, as if there were nowhere else to go. For the first time in their career, Arcade Fire haven’t made a record; they’ve manufactured one.

Where the first half of the album is strong but routine, the back half finds mixed but more interesting results.

Flower Boy has elevated Tyler closer to the line. An unexpected move to be sure, but no less impressive whatsoever.

Soft vocals percolate through the record, lending it a remarkable emotional profundity. Though at times the record feels a little repetitive, Zauner’s lyrical skill keeps it from being boring.

Need to Feel Your Love is an excellent debut, and if this record is any indication, Sheer Mag is set to continue their trend of making great music.

Her signature honest, unpretentious vocals shine through on each track, conveying her struggle with each note she sings.

It might take you a couple of spins to fully appreciate Boo Boo. At times, it’s very slow-moving, and some of Bear’s experiments don’t land. ... Don’t let the more experimental qualities keep you from listening to the record, though.

The reality is that Something to Tell You, though strong in its own right, just doesn’t quite live up to the pomp and circumstance established by Days.

It can be taken as a full listen, and it rolls along easily enough, but most likely listeners will just queue the songs they like and ignore the rest of the filler.

He now realizes he is as much part of the product as the music he makes and seems happy to be taking a backseat to the performers he’s enlisted for his fifth studio album. At no point do Harris’ sandpapery vocals scrape against the beat; this time he lets his beats do the talking.