We weren’t sure if Madonna could surprise us anymore. Until she did.
Ghost on Ghost completes Iron and Wine’s long-gestating transformation.
Afraid of Heights points to a set of punk-rock signifiers rather than thoughtfully engaging with them.
Diplo keeps his grungy dancehall rave running on all cylinders on Free the Universe.
Little French Songs is a modestly scaled disc from an otherwise larger-than-life celebrity.
The Flaming Lips’ understated 13th album, The Terror, paints a bleak, post-apocalyptic future.
The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’s latest is a messy, forceful expression of creative restlessness.
Charli XCX’s debut studio album has a difficult time feeling like it’s trying too hard.
It isn’t so much “Shake Your Love” as it is Shakespeare…translated into alien biometric rhythms tapping out iambic pentameter.
Wakin on a Pretty Daze suggests the Philly rocker is well aware of what he’s become and what his audience wants from him.
Blake continues plumbing the depths on Overgrown, an album of depressing doom ballads with a decidedly hopeful slant.
Except Sometimes is a strange little collection of jazz semi-standards with a strong tilt toward Broadway.
Ride Your Heart is an above-average debut that proves the Calvin sisters are willing to shed a good deal of their rough exteriors.
The Invisible Way relies too heavily on its production and instrumentation to do the heavy lifting.
While Wolf feels like progress on some fronts, it’s also a resolutely conservative effort.
On Lines, Lynch continues to lurk on the folkier, more hushed side of contemporary indie music.
Depeche Mode’s Delta Machine has the satisfying air of a perfected formula.
The Strokes’ Comedown Machine a nice sense of double nostalgia.
Woman exudes all the mystery and sex appeal that’s surrounded Rhye’s ambiguous Internet presence.
Brian Chippendale seems to have come into his own on All My Relations.
You haven’t truly lived until you’ve seen Vampire Weekend via telecast in the anodyne confines of a conference room.