The Hardest Part is the result of her stepping away and figuring out who she is — and the songs she wrote during that time sound appealing even as they’re digging into knotty, complex emotions.

They’re a truly great pop group—and Born Pink is the great pop album they were born to make.

Otherworldly music-box twinkles on the mournful “Only Child,” a gentle midtempo strut rising as the Monica Martin duet “Go in Light” nears self-acceptance — illuminate the close-to-the-bone lyrics while also placing Mumford’s voice in musical contexts that differ from his namesake band’s output. Those subtle differences are just enough to underscore the personal voyage (self-titled) takes.

It seems the isolation of lockdown made her bolder about looking inside herself. The most exciting thing about Hold the Girl is that you can’t even guess where Sawayama might go next.

Words & Music improves the sound on Reed’s original tape (available to hear, with many others, at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center, home to the Reed Archives), and evidently takes some liberty with song order.

Their third and most arresting record since their reformation.

Yungblud is a whirlwind listen, fusing together building blocks of various rock subgenres—mostly Britpop’s hip-shaking carnality and emo’s on-the-brink wails—then spit-shining them a bit before adding confessional lyrics.

Listening to Khaled’s albums is like searching for blessings amidst the chaff, and the signal-to-noise ratio is generally low. But God Did isn’t as torturously bad as, say, 2019’s Father of Asahd.

Swift came out of the gate sounding bright-eyed but remarkably seasoned. [December 5, 2012]

The album is like a wild ride in a muscle car where someone’s constantly fiddling with the radio, forever chasing the high that comes with hearing the perfect riff at the perfect moment. ... Viva Las Vengeance sounds great, its piston-like licks and soaring solos acting like time machines to a rose-colored-glasses-refracted era.

Cheat Codes is a balm to Gen X hip-hop fans who feel out of step with trap’s spare beats and mumble rap’s hazy flow, proof positive that hip-hop requires a senior circuit.

A thrill ride of a listen, a motley mix of slick bops and searing confessionals that wonderfully encapsulate all of her various vibes.

At 30 tracks and classified as his fourth album, The Last Slimeto feels like an overstuffed, overlong and sometimes-compelling compact disc from the No Limit years.

There are few outright misfortunes on Playboy. One miss is “Havin’ Fun,” which taps into a reggae-pop groove that feels sugary and dated. Then, repetitive placement of hit single “Peru” and its remix. ... Despite these choices, Fireboy’s third album maintains a strong mix of charming songs and engaging storytelling.

It’s a fine wind-down album, one that can be put on shuffle at the end of a long-summer-night bacchanal, when revelers reach that point where they’re too tired to do anything but bask in the glow of the blowout they just threw.

A high-octane dose of emotion cushioned by pleasant, if sometimes a bit anonymous, pop.

Throughout, King Princess’ potent melodies are bolstered by subtle production touches that heighten the anxieties and intricacies of her candid lyrics.

Is this an evolution from Lemonade? Not quite. But with Renaissance, Beyoncé is more relatable than ever, giving listeners all the anthems and sultry slow burners we love and have come to expect from her, proving that inclusivity is the new black.

Expand[s] her folk-based sound, mixing Radiohead-style atmospherics, Seventies pop melodies and even a splash of soul. [Jul - Aug 2022, p.120]

At times, 2000 strains under its ambition. It’s unclear whether Bada$$ wants to build an Important Album or simply release something commensurate with his growing celebrity.

It seems to reflect what the 28-year-old singer-songwriter is most interested in at this very moment, which appears to be a blend of Nineties alt-rock and turn-of-the-century shopping-mall pop. [Jul - Aug 2022, p.117]

It’s the equivalent of a headbanger, and while one could argue her talent deserves a richer canvas, it satisfies all the same.

If only the lyrics were as articulate as the melodies and playing. [Jul - Aug 22, p.120]

It’s empowering to see Trifilio own the full spectrum of her emotions, and it’s what cements Beach Bunny’s latest record as a masterclass in confessional rock and roll.

On the occasions when his slinky guitar takes center stage — like on melancholy instrumental renditions of the Pet Sounds tracks “Don’t Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder)” and “Caroline, No,” or the first half of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” — the results are predictably serviceable. But Depp’s pro forma, double-tracked vocals provide scant additional justification for the project’s existence; and in a few unfortunate cases (like when he attempts a soul croon on Smokey Robinson’s “Ooo Baby Baby”) you won’t be able to find the skip button fast enough.

Entering Heaven Alive is flush with surprisingly nimble and fluid melodies that remind you of what a song craftsman he can be when he’s not overcooking his music. And some of those tracks—”If I Die Tomorrow” and “A Tree on Fire From Within”—are among the most arresting and least self-conscious songs he’s made in years.

The music on this album is the most unabashedly joyous, sonically diverse, and emotionally profound album put out by a major label since Beyonce’s Lemonade.

Gemini Rights is a 10-song tight collection of rock and R&B, funk and jazz, psych and hip-hop that’s as warm and airy as the cusp of summer, when Geminis are born.

Jack in the Box is brief — its 10 tracks clock in at around 22 minutes — but potent, with J-Hope’s musical curiosity and dexterity on the mic helping create an immersive world that showcases the inner life of someone who’s in a lot of photographs, but who may not always feel fully seen.

At times, it sounds like Kristi has simply moved her rock-historic references up a few years into the later Nineties, when some of the best indie-pop was getting sonically cleaner and more refined. ... All these innovations work and feel natural, and they serve as a nice backdrop for songs that stare down tough emotions while looking for clarity.

The record features five new songs, “Girls,” “Lingo,” and “ICU,” along with pre-released singles “Illusion,” and “Life’s Too Short,” and includes everything one could want from an Aespa record– heavy synth beats, strong piercing vocals, visuals that don’t give you a second to blink.

On Make-Believe’s “Passenger,” Banks laments, “Save me, I’m in my head,” which, as every other Interpol album has proven, has been a recurring issue for Banks. But when he and his bandmates loosen up their songwriting, as on Make-Believe, they sound ready to move forward.

This fire hose of arch-pop cleverness will overload even the sharpest mind. [Jul - Aug 2022, p.120]

So much of Love, Domini’s appeal is due to its spicy elasticity. It, if anything, anticipates a global village of sorts, where the vibrant and eclectic sounds lose none of their authenticity, even as they hop across a couple of continents.

black midi take a serious detour into pretentious overreach here. [Jul - Aug 2022, p.120]

The songs dwell on general themes of loneliness, isolation, despair and connection—which not only avoids concept-album bloat but makes the lyrics more universal and timelier. ... Worth your while. They make Southern-rock and classic-rock history seem present in our time. [Jul - Aug 2022, p.120]

Elegiac bangers that are all about slo-mo self-discovery. [Jul - Aug 2022, p.120]

This incisive, empathetic collection is among her strongest. [Jul - Aug 2022, p.120]

A bracing, at time beautiful, LP of dark art-pop abstraction. [Jul - Aug 2022, p.120]

It’s confident yet vulnerable even in its most blissed-out moments, making his songs hit harder and imbuing his voice with even more soul.

On Sometimes, Forever, every languid lyric and opaque melody feels strategically placed with care and concern.

An intense but often rewarding examination of sentimentality from one of youth culture’s leading miserabilists.

The album achieves something mischievously unguarded: a collection of blissful dance tunes constructed for embrace and abandon. Drake takes a leap further into uncharted realms than any of his peers, offering a refreshing sign of what’s to come.

The point of Sun’s Signature, of course, was for Fraser and Reece to challenge themselves, and with this EP, they’ve charted new territory without losing sight of Fraser’s pioneer past. Each song feels both familiar and new.

Strange’s undeniable talent and versatility have resulted in one of 2022’s most audacious albums, one that whirls through ideas while exploding preconceptions.

The three-CD set surveys their story so far, offers fascinating glimpses of roads not taken, and contains must-hear new music.

Isn't quite as transportingly charming as their past couple. [Jun 2022, p.74]

His storytelling chops are only getting sharper with age. [Jun 2022, p.74]

They're still great at delivery wry prettiness. [Jun 2022, p.74]

The best moments come when Post looks within for inspiration.

Versions of Modern Performance doesn’t just revive a certain sound; it revives the idea of mystery and tension in rock & roll.

The country-tinged beauty of this album is a revelation after the grand, gloomy orchestration she summoned for 2019’s All Mirrors and stripped away for 2020’s Whole New Mess, and a rewarding payoff for fans who’ve always known she had a record like this in her.

Despite its length and musical theme, Cruel Country doesn’t at first feel like a grand statement, but Tweedy has subtly laid out the ambitious concept of tying his classic American music to the classical theme of American social and political alienation (this, Uncle Tupelo fans, is where the record truly becomes roots music).

McRae’s debut doesn’t exactly make her stand out from the sea of algorithmic pop girls, but it definitely shows promise.

The album hits its strongest points when Morby opens himself up to reckless abandon, stripping himself of the introspective pretenses of soul-searching and instead embracing the unpredictable chaos of life and all its imperfection.

Kendrick has never been one for subtlety, and the vulnerability at the core of Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers brings out moments of his reflexive overreach.

He’s pulled off the neat trick of making his music at once elegant and more refined but also warmer and more intimate — the polished-marble smoothness of Steely Dan with the generosity of an Al Green or Yo La Tengo record.

By and large, it lives up to the legend, or at least what anyone would have wanted it to be. The you-are-there ambience of what we’d already heard runs throughout the entire album, as does the same bravado and ferocity, whether the band is rolling out “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” for the hundredth time or a cover of bluesman Big Maceo’s “Worried Life Blues.”

A Light for Attracting Attention contains some of the songwriters’ most easily enjoyable music in years.

Dance Fever may be Welch’s most ecstatically extra work yet. [May 2022, p.75]

A concise and seamlessly flowing collection of insurrectionary rhymes and propulsive beats by one of rap’s most heralded duos.

Rather than feeding into speculation about the ever-expanding scale of the genre and what peak he’s out to conquer next, he chooses to lean back and have fun with a loose, leisurely set of 23 songs, his longest tracklist ever.

There are magical moments on Come Home the Kids Miss You to be found amidst a primal need to sex his female fans.

The svelte, 34-minute Dropout Boogie — which comes out the day before the 20th anniversary of their first album — keeps things similarly crunchy.

All told, the singer-songwriter’s latest is a testament to her dedication to songcraft and an impressive mid-career statement on restlessness, contentment and everything in between.

All of these gestures are deeply in earnest, and some of them even feel earned. But it’s hard not to hear We as the sound of a band hopefully setting things back in order, with better adventures to come.

As warm and soulful as ever. [May 2022, p.79]

Their most sonically surprising - full of brash lust and tender beauty. [May 2022, p.79]

I Never Liked You is no DS2, but it has a compositional sweep often absent from his work. Most importantly, it’s an album with layers that’s more engaging than recent fare such as 2019’s appealing yet boilerplate Future Hndrxx Presents: The Wizrd and Save Me EP; and 2020’s one-two punch of desultory hive-bait, High Off Life and Pluto x Baby Pluto, the latter with Lil Uzi Vert.

There are numerous nods to classic rock throughout. ... Lambert’s more adventurous side comes out on “I’ll Be Loving You,” which combines echoing piano notes and thick coils of electric guitar into a booming anthem that’s more Arcade Fire than Alan Jackson. ... The LP’s final track, “Carousel,” is a breathtaking ballad of trapeze-artist romance and long-buried secrets.

Leray gives a vivid performance throughout Trendsetter’s ups and downs, even if a distinct portrait of her “pain” lies just out of focus.

It’s Almost Dry, Pusha’s fourth solo album, adds levity to his troubled-conscious colloquies, presenting a well-balanced portrait of a complex man with some serious burdens on his heart.

What could have been a tasteful salute becomes a record that’s bristlingly, viscerally alive; it’s like a ride in a classic old car with long-gone shock absorbers.

He stretches out and gets comfortable on his loosey-goosiest jams to date, handing out 74 minutes of mellow wisdom off the dome. He’s wisely stopped searching for the next level up, focusing instead on the beautifully unfocused be-here-now beatitude that’s always been his greatest gift.

When Fivivo brags, “This is the town of the big drip, smooth talk, Milly Rock, Shmoney Dance, Woo Walk,” the vibes feel electric. B.I.B.L.E., for the most part, proves that he’s about keeping that same energy.

Chloë takes many twists and turns around the movie set, pulling off the impossible feat of making sure its mellowness never grows tiresome.

There are a lot of great things happening on this record — trickier flows, piercing beats, and acerbic writing — that make it feel significant. But if you suspect it isn’t, I know how you got there.

Across Ivory, Apollo slips from English to Spanish, singing in whatever language best serves the music. He eludes labels when it comes to his identity and sexuality; instead, he often lets the music speak for itself. He doesn’t hold back in his lyrics.

Guided by Syd’s laudable ear and angelic voice, Broken Hearts Club succeeds in sewing a narrative of love grown and wilted.

The extras are a feast for serious Pavement lunatics.

The album is packed with hilariously nasty kiss-offs like “Piece of Shit” and “Ur Mum” — it’s got hooks for days, cheek for weeks.

Familia is as raw as Cabello has ever been. She successfully laces the sounds of her Latina roots into a record that lyrically rips out the pages of her life’s diary — all its heartbreak, drama, and self-doubt — for the entire world to see.

Unfortunately, Fear of the Dawn — the first of two records White will release this year — feels like a hodgepodge of good intentions and so-so execution.

The result is vintage RHCP: a jammy, melodic effort that blends the wavy reflections of their 1999 triumph, Californication, with the expansive rock of Stadium Aracadium.

There are precisely zero churches or trucks on Morris’ latest. Instead, the Texas singer luxuriates in tasteful adult pop rock in the vein of Sheryl Crow and John Mayer, collaborating with producer Greg Kurstin, an A-list practitioner of the sound (Adele, James Blunt, Foo Fighters).

For the most part, Kelly uses rock to express his pain and rap to escape from it, i.e., abusing substances with Lil Wayne on two fairly pointless tracks. He has a nice rapport with Iann Dior on the pleasant pop-rock exercise “Fake Love Don’t Last.” But whether Kelly deploys “rock,” “rap,” or “pop,” selling out and annoying people online are the least of his issues.

Durk seems to thrive over lush productions.

Despite the triumphs on Running With the Hurricane, the band has a tendency to meander and linger on similar ideas over the span of several songs in a manner that feels unnecessarily repetitive. This lack of dynamism is most apparent in the record’s midsection. Yet the album’s high points reveal the full potential behind Camp Cope’s newly honed sound.

From the first ecstatic strains of “Have We Met,” you get the sense that Bejar is still ardently dodging categorization. Here more than ever, he just seems game to throw everything against the proverbial wall and see what sound it makes.

The album’s musical backdrops range from breezy to absorbing, but it’s Koffee’s performances that are consistently bewitching.

In Forever, we hear both a middle-aged man looking back on his successes and failures both personally and professionally, and an artist unknowingly confronting mortality and trying to make peace at the end.

Grading on a curve, the composition, “Opening Night,” deserves a solid B. It’s dorky, catchy, and whimsical. ... The rest of their springtime retreat sounds generally more Weezerish. ... As with the corniness of “Opening Night,” Cuomo’s strong knack for vocal melodies throughout saves a lot of otherwise half-baked or cliched lyrics.

What she offers is a dizzying, kaleidoscopic self-portrait — brash and bawdy at some turns, crushingly vulnerable at other points, and completely ridiculous when it wants to be.

In/Out/In feels less like a random collection of toss-offs and more like a lost Sonic Youth album before everyone figured out who would sing each track.

She’s been honest about how much she adores the boldness of pop, and she’s been so good at crafting sticky, soaring blockbusters anyway. Here, she’s simply storming the gates head on.

Most of Spiritualized's ninth LP comes off intricate, elastic, and soulful. [Mar 2022, p.71]

The result is an engrossing album full of stock-taking warmth. [Mar 2022, p.71]

A beguiling good time. [Mar 2022, p.71]