We weren’t sure if Madonna could surprise us anymore. Until she did.
Interpol rearranges and reinvigorates familiar elements on El Pintor.
Crush Songs, a collection of lo-fi, half-baked songs, feels contrived, even disingenuous.
Ryan Adams is a dreary, spineless collection of half-baked songs that float by on the fumes of middle-aged wistfulness.
Justin Townes Earle’s Single Mothers is at its best when it’s at its most deliberately spare.
On Seen It All, Jeezy proves you don’t need to overcome your own one-dimensional lyrical perspective in order to become a trap star.
With over a decade of hyper-sensory dreamgaze to their credit, the diversity of their oeuvre is often overlooked
Goddess is not exactly Top 40 fodder, but that’s exactly where Banks deserves to be.
Moonshine in the Trunk is composed of one part willfully idiotic pandering and two parts loose, fun, and rocking party country.
My Everything tries to expand Grande’s horizons with headache-inducing electro-pop and darker, edgier shades of R&B.
Like the band’s best work, Brill Bruisers keeps you on your toes with its unrelenting minutiae.
This is the work of an artist who’s still intent on tearing things up, and understands how to shape interesting music out of the remnants.
Though there are moments of frayed musical charm throughout Alvvays, it exhibits an unexpected level of versatility for a debut.
Her recent rendition of “Frozen” breathtakingly reinvented the queen of pop’s icy electro-pop hit from 1998 into a stirring, nuanced keyboard dirge.
Blacc Hollywood is remarkable only as a ghostly portrait of a half-formed figure prowling the fringes of success.
Junto finds Basement Jaxx looking over their shoulder, perhaps tacitly relieved that the future isn’t their problem anymore.
LP1 is 40 minutes of sex and touching, and it intertwines repulsion with attraction to the point that the two are indistinct.
Robyn and Röyksopp have premiered the video for an abbreviated version of “Monument,” the epic, opening track of their recent EP.
Live from Atlanta comes as close as possible to capturing the live Lucero experience.
On Nobody’s Smiling, a rejuvenated Common returns to the war-torn streets of Southside Chicago as a wise and focused veteran.
With They Want My Soul, Spoon expertly aligns their trademark raucousness with bouts of sobriety, thoughtfulness, and anguish.