
Mr Eazi and King Promise Document a Long Kinship
Mr Eazi and King Promise’s See What We’ve Done lands like a pulse check: messy, breathing, and defiantly human.

Mr Eazi and King Promise’s See What We’ve Done lands like a pulse check: messy, breathing, and defiantly human.

Jessie Ware is hornier on Superbloom than its predecessors, and that alone makes it more assertive. It’s quite possibly her gayest record yet.

Although Holly Humberstone ends her new album on a signature sad note, Cruel World has a promising tone that shines through the clouds.

Inconsistent in his music and notoriously ornery, it’s difficult to figure out where, amongst his contemporaries, to seat Billy Joel at the Pop Rock table. We give it a try.

Joe Jackson’s finger-wagging and score-settling sound like a swansong. It leaves a distinctly bitter aftertaste on an otherwise remarkable career.

ROREY pulls back the curtain on the vulnerable evolution of heartbreak in “Dying Fire”, her ethereal new dream pop single.

On Whatever’s Clever!, Charlie Puth diversifies his musical references, but muddles the appeal of his persona.

Slayyyter’s third full-length, Wor$t Girl in America, is a diamond-hard jawbreaker of a pop record, a totally self-immolating blaze of glory, a final roar before extinction.

Sexistential embodies the contradiction in Robyn herself at this juncture in her career: she’s the blueprint, so she refers to herself as such.

Harry Styles negotiates with style and substance on his fourth album, reminding listeners why he long ago transcended heartthrob status.

In a genre where almost everything is replaceable, Sabrina Carpenter achieves something rare: she is not only present, she is necessary.

Harry Styles sounds tired of trying to check boxes on someone else’s list, and he’s trying to figure out his own sound as an adult man in his third decade.