A dark, sophisticated album from an artist who continues to produce thoughtful, enthralling music of depth and beauty.

Angel Numbers is a timeless record that combines beauty, joy, and sublime observations.

We’ve had plenty of music in recent years that reckons with global and personal heaviness and offers comfort or therapeutic release or reassurance. On Heavy Heavy, Young Fathers render it all powerless, the darkness just a blank canvas on which every burst of light and hope becomes all the more brilliant.

There’s a rawness to Every Acre that is understated and reverent, from the measured poetry of its lyrics to the unhurried, solemn attitude of each of its songs.

It’s a remarkably sure-footed, brilliantly confident record and one that condenses the greatness of Fucked Up into a bite size treat. It’s a welcome, exhilarating release that, even in its darker moments, manages to uplift and inspire.

Honey feels uniquely her own, not only for its diaristic vignettes but also for Samia’s stronger songwriting voice and expansive sonic blend. Taken together, the record paints an affecting picture of a promising young talent, one capable of effortlessly blending genuinely creative textures and lyrical gems with the striking allure of pop music.

Gigi’s Recovery at times feels eerie and unsettling yet consistently and completely alluring.

In Cale’s eightieth year, Mercy reiterates his ever-evolving dedication to high strangeness and musical exploration, and while it never even approaches being an easy listen, it is certainly a compelling, rewarding ride.

It’s a beautiful, hand made collection of natural and unforced songs to be treasured.

Though the one-liners are at times a bit more fun, the emotions Maries explores in this collection remind us that practicing self-awareness and presence is truly the best way out of the time warp.

Late Developers is a gem.

On the album’s closing track, “Landfill,” Price sings, “They say ‘it takes time to become timeless’/But time is all I’ve got this time.” Every bit of Strays—the excellence in lyricism, instantly classic riffs, the soul-bearing warmth Price exudes—is a testament to that and to the fact that our need to see each other wholly, empathetically is of eternal importance.

This is album #20 for Iggy Pop and it’s as good as almost anything he’s done in the last 50 years.

For much of the album, Stormzy hardly lifts his voice above a whisper, like he’s slipping us a note under the door. Sometimes this exercise in solemnity and sincerity doesn’t quite land emotionally. ... Elsewhere, Stormzy truly expresses the liberating power of earnest prayer by choosing to speak from personal pain rather than religious catchphrase, like on “Please”.

Alpha Zulu proves that while they may play with novel sounds and textures, Phoenix are in no danger of losing their melodic instincts and effortless indie-pop sensibilities.

To some, their experimentalism may verge on grating and their pessimism may become tired, but Sorry’s sophomore effort proves that the band’s got dynamism and ambition, and plenty of it.

While it may be a long way from their grungier origins, their knack for a neat hook and graceful harmony remain intact.

While his technical dexterity, theoretical expertise, and inventive spirit shine on Please Have a Seat, ultimately, they aren’t enough to stop many of its songs from unraveling.

Given [Ian Broudie is] one of the guiding forces for the British pop sound of the ’90s, a sensibility from that era has always lingered in his Seeds work. Here, it lends these 10 songs a brightness even when the subject matter turns melancholy.

SAP proves once again that the enigma of Okay Kaya’s work remains enticing, in spite of—or perhaps precisely because of—its often unfathomable quality.

A Swollen River, A Well Overflowing is chaotic and messy as hell, but equally beautiful for the joyful and unbridled moments it creates.

Like its predecessor it doesn’t waste much time on pleasing arrangements, layered instrumentation, or careful craft. That’s not to say it’s slap-dash, more that it’s alive, wired, and sometimes inspired.

Musically, In the Darkness is perhaps her grandest, most elegant work to date—a perfect culmination of her past experimentalism and deep devotion to graceful melodies that lift from the deepest parts of the soul up to the heavens.

Although Most Normal is every bit as obtuse as one has come to expect from Gilla Band, it represents more of a short sharp shock than either 2019’s The Talkies or 2015’s Holding Hands With Jamie, yet remains every bit as exhilarating.

It may be neither a classic Springsteen or soul album, and it may just be impossible to make a truly great album with such a familiar concept, but at the very least it stands as a passionate love letter to the sweet soul songs that helped shape both modern music and Springsteen himself.

One could argue as a long-time fan and observer that the lineup change and break may have even revitalized the group.

That The Space Between manages to broadcast a sunnier lyrical disposition than its predecessor with hardly a blip in the pulse of its delivery gives promise that Boman will continue to grace us with her minor key charmers, rain or shine.

With a kaleidoscopic sonic palette and an ear for the truly unconventional, Dungen have made an absorbing, endlessly interesting record; one that challenges even as it envelops the listener. It’s an experimental exploration bordering on the divine.