Anyone looking for tidy narratives won’t find them in Remind Me Tomorrow, as the album isn’t concerned with backstories or motivations. Instead, its 10 songs are much more focused on how their protagonists are dealing right now, in the present, with triumphs, traumas, and new beginnings.
On The Line preserves the irreverence and honesty of her past work, but underscores that Lewis is finding a new, deeper musical path drawing from—but not beholden to—grief and rebirth.
It’s fatiguing to listen to All Mirrors straight through, which makes it easy to overlook the collection’s highlights.
Del Rey’s Instagram filter-tinted malaise is her calling card, but on this album she jettisons any sonic sluggishness in favor of crisp, unadorned instrumentation: wistful piano, light horns and string accents, sighing guitar.
What Cave sends us from this new place is remarkable. Ghosteen is both his most solitary recording since 2001’s No More Shall We Part and impossible to imagine without the contributions of The Bad Seeds.
Rado’s opulent production gives the experience of listening to Titanic Rising—particularly on headphones—the feeling of being enveloped in sound, insulated from the outside world like an astronaut looking down at the earth through layers of atmosphere.
The first record was a grower, gradually establishing itself as one of the great producer-emcee efforts of the young millennium, but Bandana seems designed to dazzle, to assert a joint legacy.