The Wedding Album's "John & Yoko" is a brilliantly disquieting composition that exists unequivocally as an intentional, constructed art piece.
The type of personality drawn in by a hyperviolent fantasy demolition derby headed up by a killer clown is likely very similar to that which most closely identifies with Juice WRLD's unfocused emotional ramblings.
With Trans Kids, Tey Meadow educates readers and gives them hope for societies that are just now learning to address gender beyond the strictures of presumed binary biology.
Mere mediocrity on the part of the superhero sidekicks doesn't seem a high enough bar for inclusion in a tome such as The League of Regrettable Sidekicks.
This is how the stream-of-consciousness rantings of an angry 60-something-year-old man should sound. Even the title of the album looks like it's missing some punctuation.
Empress is brilliant. Ray BLK has earned a spot at the top of the R&B heap. Hand her the crown.
Ella Mai's self-titled debut album tries to do too much, but succeeds regardless. When the sky is the limit, can you really blame an artist for throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks?
Time 'n' Place sounds transitional as if Kero Kero Bonito are working their way into something that's more sustainable than the often wild, sometimes too-cute experiments of their past.
On Where Neon Goes to Die, Steven A. Clark gives us a look at a Miami where the shine is present, but the darkness beneath is the main attraction.
We have to get to the point where we see each other as human again. On Hyperion, St. Lucia is trying to show us the way. We need to start listening.
Aickman's ability to imbue in the mundane a hint of the supernatural pushes these stories from the utterly average into absorbing, fascinating territory.
Dizzee Rascal offers up five brilliant new tracks on Don't Gas Me, and they confirm the artist hasn't lost his hunger. In fact, he's setting up for a blazing future.
Arp's Zebra is impeccably produced, the result of an artist living with his art, refining it, and turning it into exactly what he wants it to be, but it is a strangely sterile, emotionless experience.
Gui Boratto's next great album isn't Pentagram, but it holds a lot of promise for his future.
On so sad so sexy, Swedish pop singer Lykke Li has created mood music that works as well as a breakup album as it does a warm-up for the club.
Tethered to no style or genre, Bernice's Puff LP exists as its own tiny universe of sound, unassuming and intriguing, a treasure waiting to be uncovered.
Jorja Smith's Lost & Found is a first album that sounds like it came from an artist who has been doing this for years and years, an artist who already has award shows and headlining tours in her rear view mirror.
CHVRCHES' Love Is Dead is an album whose makers are screaming "we're ready for the spotlight", whether or not the sentiment is actually true.
Nathan explores the hyperbolic mind of the teenager, a time bomb of unresolved emotion that can be unleashed at any perceived slight, no matter how minor.
DJ Koze's commitment to avoiding easy four-on-the-floor dance music, his unwillingness to whack at synth pads for an hour and call Knock Knock an experimental ambient album, is commendable.
It's fairly astounding just how gracefully a very small, very personal story can turn into something much bigger, as Tamirat has done here.
George Ezra's Staying at Tamara's is upbeat and light to a fault, a microcosm of cheer mostly blissfully unaware of the chaotic world around it.
Bishop Nehru is a technically gifted rapper, and his talents shine brightest when the BPM gets highest.
In a way, Pinkus Abortion Technician is a departure for Melvins, heavily hinted at by the album's very title.
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