My Woman walks a tightrope of love to figure out what it is—how to find it, how to allow it in, how to feel it, how to fight for it, how to let it go—by a person who does not lose herself in the process.
Teens of Style was already great, but Teens of Denial is such a leap forward that it still manages to surprise.
On his eighth album, the singer-songwriter connects his gentle, acerbic soul to his most politically charged, well-stated, and funniest songs.
Trans Day of Revenge takes the anger and confusion one feels in the depths of the margins, and translates them, literalizes them, from a burning abstraction into something almost tangible.
Singing Saw is his strongest album because it shows a process of refinement, and because Morby’s songwriting has become less referential and more grounded. The basic ingredients haven’t changed, but Morby is figuring out how to retain and amplify his strongest points—his weary and wise voice, his understanding of how the musical pieces fit together—and leave everything else behind.
Leonard Cohen's 14th studio album feels like a pristine, piously crafted last testament, the informed conclusion of a lifetime of inquiry.
You'd be hard pressed to find a contemporary rock band honoring the classic Rough Trade legacy as well as Parquet Courts, in both sound and spirit, while doing something audacious and new.
Cardinal feels like one big determined push outward, an album-length fight against solipsism without losing your sense of self in the process.
It’s a sound that Radiohead has spent the last decade honing, but the payoff here is deeper and more gratifying than it has been in a while. The added dimension comes from Yorke, who pumps fresh oxygen into these songs, many of which have existed in sketch-like forms for years.
In many ways, Adore Life feels more alive than Silence Yourself—in part because it feels more human, in part because it's telling you to be as loud as possible.
It upholds the band's gold standard as they continue to refine their formula: kick drums like rifle shots, earworm guitar riffs played with electric glee, no-frills solos no less punk rock for their existence.
For as riotous as it can sound, Goodness is remarkably precise in how it plays with dynamics and layers.
She commits more fully to the world she’s building here, though 2014’s sprawling rock rumination The Innocents is not without its highlights.
On Paradise, Barber-Way steps outside of her own body and the assaults it sustains, and creates a searing portrait of what it can look like to love without fear, even when that love doesn't resemble the fantasy we've been sold.