Gore is a challenging, fluid, and wholly engrossing album from a band who, 28 years after their inception, should by all accounts be past their prime. But Gore ferociously asserts that Deftones haven’t lost any of their creative spark.
It’s pop music that sticks with you. If the genre’s most assailable characteristics are its fleeting shelf life and surface-level affectations, Roosevelt proves that they don’t necessarily have to be.
Like Wilson before him, Ocean has delivered a non-commercial pop curio that now and then slows down to focus on an idea long enough to form a “complete” song, or not.
Despite some glaring issues, Sept. 5th manages to stay listenable, and offers occasional glimpses of genuine inspiration.
I found Love Streams less fulfilling than most of Hecker’s recent output. But fans with a high stress tolerance and an inclination towards the noisier side of ambient will likely find plenty to love about this record.
For those seeking guidance with regard to broken governments, armed conflict, and debilitating poverty—maybe reach for a book, not a pop album. If it’s solace you’re after, The Hope Six Demolition Project has a few remarkable tunes you might want to hear.
While it never really strives for inventiveness, Cardinal is steeped in honesty so raw and delivered so loosely that it almost feels like a private show that your friends would put on in your basement. There’s no flash here, just a finely crafted batch of searingly personal indie rock songs.
Underworld have made some of their most vital work without compromising any of the aspects of their sound that a modern audience might scan as dated.
Moth is a breezy, immensely enjoyable pop record that provides just the amount of pep that you’ll need to make it through the winter. It makes a very upbeat soundtrack to cleaning the snow off your car.
Two words come to mind not a minute into Leave Me Alone—“effortless” and “simple”. If I’m pressed for a couple more, they’d be “warm” and “sloppy”.
This is brave stuff, even if it is masked in poetry. For someone who has concealed himself behind other monikers and never truly followed up his beloved Space is Only Noise until now, this is a surprising record.
It’s their most musically ambitious record ever and their best since Buhloone Mind State way back in ’93, eclectic with the beats and gnomic with the wit, and it serves as a heartening rejoinder to the emotional and intellectual thinness of most of even the best current hip-hop.
What he’s presented us with, essentially, is the skeleton of Animal Collective’s fleeting creativity, stripped down to its roots, revealing that even at its rawest, purest form the music still has an instinctive grasp of sincere emotion and beauty.
If you’re looking for something groundbreaking, you’re probably going to be disappointed, but this is still one of 2016’s best electronic releases, and a worthy addition to the Aphex Twin canon.
The album is monumental in every sense of the word, a visceral testament to the abilities of an incredible group of musicians, each member contributing equally to its breathtaking chiaroscuro.
You’ve got a few pieces of trash, a couple of sketches whose mileage varies on how well you dig their hooks, and plenty of fantastic stuff that ranks with M.I.A.’s best work.
Bottomless Pit’s bloodthirsty joyousness is infectious, refreshing, and exactly what you’d hope for from a new Death Grips release. It’s the culmination of everything they’ve been working towards since the beginning, and in absolutely no respect does it disappoint.
99.9% could play from start to finish behind a house party, and no one would accuse the setlist of being duplicative or boring.
It’s more ambitious than her last one; better too. But I simply don’t think the formulaic songwriting is worthy of praise, nor the very notion of being more ambitious.
Even if Colour doesn’t drastically alter Blake’s sound, it widens and refines it, keeping what made his first two records so memorable while hinting that there remains ever further room for growth.
Their less-than-zero aesthetic is as crisp as ever and they again show impeccable taste.
Even if I miss the personal struggles of I Am a Bird Now and The Crying Light, Anohni and her collaborators have created a dazzling musical artifact.
A testament to hip-hop’s undeniable spearhead, Untitled Unmastered does away with excessive decadence. There is no flashiness on its facade, nor no grand showing as to how good the music is, it’s simply a collection of eight tracks recorded during the To Pimp A Butterfly sessions that demands to be lauded.
A Seat at the Table shines due to Knowles’ unwavering commitment to her own complexity, both musically and personally. You won’t pin her down on the first, second, or third listen, but each listen will give you a better understanding as to why you never will.
Compared to the industry standard, A Sailor’s Guide feels at least five years too early. Artists spend decades working up to the level of instrumental variety and emotional awareness that Simpson seems to comprehend at his core.
Jeffery’s immediacy is what makes it make such an impression the first time around, and it’s a break from the increasingly experimental leanings of hyped pop releases.