No matter how bleak Miller may feel, he’s ready to dance until the end of the world, and that spirit is infectious from the beginning of American Primitive to the end.

Sentiment is a place to jump right into her sonic world, with a proper pop pace: 10 songs in 37 minutes. The indie-rock tunes mix with orchestral interludes, synth drones, field recordings, found sounds from nature or the city streets, all full of raw emotion.

Like the Midnights 3 A.M., the second half of Tortured Poets: The Anthology is more acoustic, more delicate, more Quill Pen, much more Aaron Dessner. If you preferred 3 A.M. to the proper Midnights (“The Great War,” “Bigger Than The Whole Sky”) you might also prefer the second hour of the Anthology.

Stunning. .... Tortured Poets has the intimate sound of Folklore and Evermore, but with a coating of Midnights synth-pop gloss.

Not every swerve works though; the Ty Dolla $ign duet “Gracious” sounds rushed and not fully fleshed out. .... Still, the music continues to override any of the head-scratching behaviors Future, Metro Boomin, and all of their friends engage in. Just like on We Don’t Trust You, the guest features on this record are quite good.

With Dark Matter, the band has rarely sounded more essential.

By giving themselves over even more to their concepts on Rampen — and no, everything will not be fine — they’ve created a new set of structures to explode.

As on her debut, Girl in Red really shines when she steps up the energy level in pissed-off songs where she’s getting her heart kicked around.

[Don’t Forget Me reveals] a rustic, more organic-feeling pop-rock sound. Upbeat tracks like “On and On and On” and “Never Going Home” are perfectly made for big-voiced sing-alongs in a way that brings to mind Michelle Branch’s early work. Meanwhile, the meditative high-note “All the Same” is raw and elemental. .... The sense of unguarded affection perfectly sums up Don’t Forget Me.

The album is full of moments like this, where the lyrical conventions of a hand-me-down genre are enlivened with genuinely personal urgency.

Marciology again demonstrates why Roc is one of rap’s most unique voices — no matter how many artists try to ride the wave.

Pivoting away from the brighter, jammier aspects of 2019’s Father of the Bride with a decided bent toward experimentation and surprising, often harsh, new textures. The results showcase a band that, nearly two decades in, is willing to issue a challenge to its fans and produce a soundtrack for a reality that is teeming with noise and discord.

This is arguably the sharpest collection of songs the Keys have come up with.

Some of Beyoncé’s best vocal work on record, produced flawlessly and at the forefront of each track. Her voice as an instrument is wielded superbly across the entire album but most strikingly at the top of it, as she glides across country and R&B inflections effortlessly.

Ditching the occasionally somber tone of some of her later records, she seems to have rediscovered the glories of a classic Sheryl Crow record. Working with producer Mike Elizondo as well as longtime collaborators like Bill Bottrell and Jeff Trott, she’s tapped back into what lured us into her music three decades ago: shamelessly big-hooky records that sound terrific blasting from a car stereo and remind you that only the likes of Tom Petty could match her in that regard.

[Future] offers a notably strong chorus on “Running Out of Time,” and bounces energetically on “Fried (She a Vibe).” But his performances on tracks like “GTA” and “Ain’t No Love” sound dreary. We Don’t Trust You feels longer than its hour runtime, despite several decent cuts. The album isn’t bad: Metro remains a fascinating producer, and Future manages to hold his own despite his well-worn tics. But it only takes a single Lamar verse to show what the game’s been missing.

Bright Future’s recording style mirrors the listener’s experience: as time goes on, these songs and the emotions associated with them will inevitably deepen, transmute, and attach themselves to the memory of different people.

Tyla’s debut, sure to be on repeat at better houseparties this year, shows she’s up to the challenge; amapiano probably couldn’t ask for a more effective ambassador.

Las Mujeres is a grab-bag of pop genre fusions, yet Shakira manages to hold court in every song with her incisive and enduring songcraft.

JPEGRAW is both a musically dense snapshot of an American stoner dad just trying to focus in a world that allows for anything but, and an album that amalgamates an array of sounds, influences, riffs, and samples while still finding room for the searing guitar solos that made his reputation.

Tigers Blood is an album that makes you marvel at how much Katie Crutchfield has accomplished, over all the miles she’s traveled so far. But it’s also an album that makes you excited for wherever she goes from here.

Nearly 30 years into his career, Four Tet seems to be finding new terrain within well-established sounds, many of which he pioneered. The result is a pleasantly surprising addition to the canon of electronic music.

Her rap style and World Wide Whack’s buoyant production make sure its heavy themes don’t weigh it down; instead, the beats build her character.

It could have stood to cut five or six entries, starting with “Memphis.” That would have left “Fuckin’ Up the Disco,” an homage to his own “Let the Groove Get In,” as the album’s opening track — a starting point that motions towards what does work about the album versus the places in which it completely falls flat.

It’s another daring swerve, but while she often arrives at genuine moments of beauty, the end result is uneven.

They show off their abilities throughout Invincible Shield, and occasionally they hit on new and surprising ideas with their songwriting. Although some Shield tracks feel like Priest-by-numbers, the songs that really hit feel like lightning striking.

Grande’s latest is a gorgeously exposed journey to the end of her world — or at least what she believes to be the end. It’s a divorce album that goes through all the stages of grief, and the singer navigates a new beginning with some of the most honest and inventive songs of her career so far.

Her goal on The Collective, as was her goal with Sonic Youth, is to subvert listeners’ expectations. Gordon will turn 71 next month, and she’s made one of the most daring albums of her career. If you want to get it though, you have to turn it up and submit.

The fourth, self-titled Bleachers record doesn’t veer too far from their previous LPs.

Part of why Blue Lips is compelling is that it seduces the listener enough to accept Schoolboy Q on his own terms.

That these intimations of progress come slowly for Webster is part of the album’s relatable charm.

2093 takes enough daring leaps out of typical Yeat territory to warrant repeat listens, but Yeat’s ambition ends up being the album’s undoing. At 78 minutes, 2093 ends up feeling monotonous, even as Yeat’s exploration into new sounds and cadences yields occasionally interesting results.

Mannequin Pussy’s lyrical prowess is on full display with I Got Heaven.

But if Life On Earth still felt intent on defining itself in part by what it was not, The Past is Still Alive achieves something even braver: Segarra has honed their craft into a cohesive, astonishingly realized singer-songwriter record.

Where a song like “Dimeback” felt like dream pop backwash, the 12 tracks here draw endless comparisons. In “Rylee & I” alone he evokes the mangled production of Bon Iver’s 22, A Million; the gauzy seduction of Jai Paul’s demos; the attention to space in Arthur Russell’s World of Echo; and the everyman sensitivity of John Mayer. That Mk.gee can bring to mind such varied artists is a testament to his ingenuity.

There’s a great depth of sound throughout, no doubt thanks to Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich who co-produced and mixed Tangk, and it allows the heavenly moments to feel even bigger.

Their closing chorus, “Womanhood is not an easy walk/And we cannot keep subjecting them to oppression,” highlights the sense of purpose that governs the entire album. It’s that spirit and the Amazones’ powerful performances that makes Musow Danse one of the great pan-African consciousness LPs in modern history.

Vultures is a serviceable record. The production, in typical post-My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy fashion, is sparse. While it won’t be confused for a masterpiece, it shows that West is still good at being a producer. He puts Ty Dolla Sign in position to sound as bubbly as he’s been since the Obama era.

The star’s sprawling, twenty-song LP is nostalgic and familiar as Usher leans into the past without making it feel stale.

What Now is another side of Brittany Howard that makes each of her previous departures feel like a baby step by comparison.

Much like “Nothing Matters,” songs like “Caesar on a TV Screen” and “Burn Alive” start like hung-over reveries before vaulting into trampoline pop, wrapping up with crashing crescendos. Over the course of an album, that approach veers towards formula. But there’s no denying the way their blowsy, unrestrained songs knock you upside and down and leave you with a dizzying high.

The Smile are back with Wall of Eyes, a lavishly gorgeous second LP. No one is going to convene a Deep Listening Consortium to unpack its meaning, and that’s part of the appeal. This music drifts, and we drift with it.

In a less capable artist’s hands, American Dream could come off like industry hackwork. One gets the sense that 21 remains on top of his game even if he’s not quite pushing himself.

It’s Armstrong’s alternating earnestness and sarcasm, combined with some typically hummable tunes, that make Saviors something of a return to form for the trio, which drifted a little too far into pop territory on 2020’s Father of All Motherfuckers.

Across the album, Uchis is bolder and more forthright than on past releases. So often, she’s played the languid cool girl, but she breaks out of her shell again and again this time out. She dives deeper into new sounds, and she flourishes the entire way.

Attempts to balance the expectations attached to naming itself after its groundbreaking 2010 predecessor with Minaj’s spirit of constant reinvention and confrontational persona. .... Pink Friday 2 is a long album, and it’s going to get longer. .... Also manages to remain true to her brightly hued essence.

The record is an earworm that channels the spirit of Nelly Furtado’s “Promiscuous” so deeply that you’d assume the fellow Canadian pop star’s name would be listed in the credits. .... She sounds as if she’s most comfortable veering into the fast lane.

New Blue Sun is not the best ambient record you can hear in 2023. .... However, New Blue Sun will probably be the only ambient record many people do hear in 2023, and it’s great that such a lively, sumptuous album gets the gig.

Quaranta shows that Brown has lost none of his musical acuity. Like post-punk icons Hüsker Du in the 80s, Brown knows how to assemble a compelling project, leaving fans to argue which one is the prettiest of the bunch.

Dolly’s warmth, up-for-anything spirit, and common touch bring almost everything she does endearingly down to earth, and at 77, she’s able to hold her own and work well with every heavy hitter who rolls through. .... The new material struggles to get noticed amid all of the classic-rock fireworks. It also might’ve been nice if more songs had been culled from her own story.

At times, Stapleton’s latest feels like a more mature, seasoned sequel to his multi-platinum 2015 debut Traveller

If PinkPantheress often seems adrift in apprehension and loneliness, she inhabits the LP’s different purgatorial states with the same confidence that made her early releases so appealing

By the fourth line — "Being this young is art" — it's obvious, the track ["Slut!"] is a stunner. .... The chorus [of "Say Don’t Go"] ("Why'd you have to lead me on? Why'd you have to twist the knife?") hits so tragically hard that it was destined to be screamed by stadiums full of fans at future Eras shows. "Suburban Legends" is a euphoric, dizzying rush to the head, with Antonoff's production making it sound like the soundtrack to the world's most addictive arcade game.

As always, Blink-182 are at their best when they are channeling punk-rock energy and wailing tongue-in-cheek couplets against choppy guitars and Barker’s driving rhythms. The action-packed “Turpentine” hits the mark and uses the band’s immature humor to unpack One More Time’s darker themes.

In tracing the way Mitchell’s songs mutated from bare-boned recordings to fully realized tracks with more musicians than she’d ever used before, Archives Volume 3 finally allows us to hear those steps along the way. That evolution is most apparent in the making of Court and Spark, an album that was both a beautifully crafted piece of adult pop on par with Steely Dan‘s work and a warm, intimate, emotionally conflicted meditation on love and relationships.

Throughout the LP, he seems to ask: Who is with him and who is against him? Who truly knows him and who pretends to? Who’s a real fan versus a fake fan? This comes at a cost, making the album a bit thematically repetitive and lacking some of the political depth of past projects. But it is an unflinching look into the celebrity psyche, and Bad Bunny keeps it ruthlessly honest.

Multi-layered and deeply personal, Something is Sivan’s most adventurous album in more ways than one. Musically, the singer stretches out to explore new instrumentation — and ornamentation. .... Lyrically, Sivan manages to be earnest and self-aware, without descending into bitterness or self-loathing.

As a representative of a modern production-by-committee rap album in 2023, Set It Off achieves a modest goal of being erratic yet diverting.

Throughout Tomorrow’s Fire, Williams sounds strategically self-effacing while also cradling a quiet, growing inner certainty. The result feels like the sound of someone coming into their own, albeit not without some rough patches; she still gets good and angry, but where rage used to feel like a deadend in her previous songs, here it drives her forward.

While the 23-year-old’s outward aesthetic is dark and gothic, her catchy pop songs are bright, upbeat and radio-ready. Humberstone depicts her neediness in a way that feels authentic.

Hackney Diamonds isn’t just another new Stones album, but a vibrant and cohesive record — the first Stones album in ages you’ll want to crank more than once before filing away.

Drake meanders through yet another collection of superlong streaming bait. For All the Dogs may have its sparks. But too often, he settles for subliminal bars aimed at rivals like Kanye West and Pusha T, keeping it “gangsta” by putting down women and, of course, filling up the piggy bank.

His intimate vocals are bolstered by the addition of celestial choral harmonies, and his production is immense, yet every layered instrument and rackety beat feels meticulously deliberate.

On Autumn Variations, the storytelling skills that paved the way for Sheeran’s mainstream success are on full display.

It’s the first Wilco set since the ‘00s to use an outside producer, and it shows, in the best possible way.

The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We is another evolution: a mix of quotidian-yet-elliptical lyricism, classic country accompaniment, daring orchestral movements, and the musician’s unique brand of storytelling.

Zach Bryan’s up-close realism means that this album is hardly an escape from those cruelties, but Bryan’s careful presentation of his obvious songwriting talents makes it a gripping listen.

Do You Sleep at Night offers little in terms of actual ingenuity. Instead, it presents a smattering of existing tropes thrown at the wall with little in terms of depth.

Her excellent new Guts is another instant classic, with her most ambitious, intimate, and messy songs yet. Olivia’s pop-punk bangers are full of killer lines (“I wanna meet your mom, just to tell her her son sucks”) but she pushes deeper in powerful ballads like “Logical.” All over Guts, she’s so witty, so pissed off, so angsty at the same time, the way only a rock star can be. And this is the album of a truly brilliant rock star.

The songs on I Told Them… are sharply written but at times also tender, balancing seriousness with moments of levity. .... The album would have gone off without a hitch if Burna hadn’t decided to close it out by taking a shot at the people in his home country. On “Thank You,” an admittedly club-ready Afro-pop number, he accuses his fellow Nigerians of being ungrateful for what he’s done for the country’s image.

Jaguar II is a shining demonstration of the aptitude that made Monét a sought after collaborator, but here, in the album’s comfy old-school soul and sharp modern edge, she preserves something fresh and unique for herself.

Snow Angel allows Rapp to channel her larger-than-life emotions into twisty pop songs that take big swings while being keenly aware of the human at their core.

Hozier doesn’t just succeed in exploring that dark emotional world; his painful ascent makes the listener immediately want to climb with him. Even harder, he successfully delivers a third album that doesn’t shy away from any topic, even when he doesn’t have the answers. Hozier isn’t just growing as an artist, he’s being reborn.

You’re the One occasionally suffers from its lofty goals: “Who Are You Dreaming Of,” which sets her voice to luxurious orchestration ordinary reserved for pre-rock standards, feels oddly out of place. But on her most outward-looking record, Giddens melds the past and present, writing a bold new future for herself in the process.

Noname isn’t ambivalent at all here—she goes full blast. Sundial is the sound of an artist who hasn’t lost any of her passion for making music—or making trouble.

The reality is that while Scott is a masterful curator, he’s just an OK rapper. Those two realities are discordant for too many moments on Utopia.

Almost every track finds Post in some tortured posture like this, singing cheerily into a bottle he’s doomed to finish. They’re largely fine songs, and clever, but lighter than Post seems to want them to be.

Barbie the Album has something for everyone (Brandi Carlile’s loving bonus track cover of the Indigo Girls’ “Closer To Fine” is an especially sweet, sincere touch), and it neatly ties together the playful feminism of the film into an enjoyable musical experience.

So are Greta Van Fleet shameless imitators? Yep. Are they also carrying on a musical tradition that’s now endangered, like the young blues players still adhering to the basics of that genre long after we’ve lost Muddy and B.B.? Yes, that too. For defenders, you best show up with a pretty good broadsword.

The tracks are brief but potent and pugilistic, with the big hooks followed up by Leray’s flurry of verbal punches. As the record nears its close, though, the proceedings get more compelling, with Leray dropping her façade and letting things breathe a bit.

While You & I delves into Ora’s personal experiences and emotional triumphs, it does so in broader strokes. Though those confessional moments give a bit more insight into the life of Ora— her immigration experience, marriage and struggle to self-actualize — where she truly delivers is when she leans into experimentation on her euphoric EDM-lite and dance-pop. numbers.

The greatest adventure on Eye on the Bat is Palehound’s musical evolution: they’re sharper, punkier, and more fearless — roaring in the face of change.

The push and pull of passiveness and assertiveness on My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross feels organic at every turn. Sometimes the music can be a little too loose, careening like an out-of-control car (especially on the discordant “Go Ahead”), but the slackness is worth the freedom of hearing Anohni’s voice fly like the bird she became years ago.

Is it too much? Reader, it’s way too much. But it’s hard to say it doesn’t work when “too much” was clearly the point. It’s less “a swing and a miss” than “a swing that rips open a hole in the time-space continuum.”

It ["I Can See You"] and "When Emma Falls In Love," a glittery ballad about an alluring older-sister figure, are perhaps the best summations of the Taylor's Version project, bridging the years between Swift's youth and her present with the sort of tenderness that comes from paging through dog-eared scrapbooks and dusty photo albums.

Many of the songs, which she recorded with longtime collaborators John Parish and producer Flood, recall the downtempo energies of Let England Shake and her quiet 2007 album, White Chalk, and like those albums, the music here excels in its otherworldliness.

Stories From a Rock N Roll Heart is an example of strength and conviction—as well as friendship.

Such moments excepted ["Oh U Went" and "Wit the Racks"], the content of Business Is Business feels bland, especially for an expectations-thwarting artist like Thug.

Clarkson is at her strongest when she’s sticking to grunge guitars and power-pop anthems. Luckily, Chemistry is full of them and shows Clarkson — raw, unfiltered, and exorcizing her demons — is an artist at the top of her game.

Of course, even the weaker songs have their dance-floor potential. Petras is, above all else, a pure fan of pop music and the feeling it exudes. But in chasing her new status as the type of pop star who has Top 40 potential, she abandoned the freakishly forward-thinking personality that built her a base to begin with. Here, the beast has been tamed.

With 3D Country, Geese have not only avoided a sophomore slump, they’ve also delivered one of the better New York rock albums of the past few years, taking hand-me-down sounds and twisting them in ways only they could imagine.

A Gift and a Curse manages to expand on the high-end sound Gunna is known for, a vibe that has set him apart from Young Thug’s grittier, spacier music.

Life Under the Gun may frequently taste like candy, but, in the end, it’s a lollipop whittled into a shiv.

With Work of Art, he solidifies his status as a street-pop superstar.

May well be the strongest QOTSA album since 2005’s Lullabyes to Paralyze.

Despite the sometimes-overwrought musical backdrop, Killer Mike remains an incisive and compelling lyricist who confidently takes Michael into unexpected places.

The album is a full statement and requires a time commitment to appreciate it. The people who are willing to give themselves (and their precious time) over to Chris’ beatification are the only ones who will begin to understand its divine mysteries. And then they’ll hit play on it again.

Its 31-ish minutes are exquisitely wrought, as smoothly mixed as a top-tier set from a DJ with an infinite collection that includes Fifties doo-wop sides and cutting-edge cuts from the African diaspora.