The twelfth album from Red Hot Chili Peppers, Unlimited Love, is notable for several reasons: Next year, the band will have been around for 40 years; it's their first since 2009 with on-again, off-again guitarist John Frusciante; and they've returned to producer Rick Rubin, who helmed their 1991 commercial breakthrough Blood Sugar Sex Magik. The old gang sounds like they're having more fun than ever. "Aquatic Mouth Dance" is at once undeniably RHCP and also like nothing they've done before: With a breezy R&B chorus and a vibrant wash of brass, it's almost an Earth, Wind & Fire song; it's also Flea at his finest, delivering super-funky bass that shows why he's gone from being seen as a party doofus to earning real respect. A wild tribute to 1980s LA nightlife, the song name-drops John Doe, the Misfits, Billy Zoom, "the old Starwood" and the long-closed Cathay club where the band got its start, and even offers a self-referential wink to an old album: "Spilling beer is a good fountain/ Like the milk from a mother's tit." The band is also in a nostalgic mood on loose-limbed "Poster Child," a wah-inflected wordplay buffet: "Melle Mel and Richard Hell/ Were dancing at the Taco Bell/ When someone heard a rebel yell … Lizzy looking mighty thin/ The Thompsons had another twin … Steve Miller and Duran Duran/ A joker dancing in the sand." With its "ayo-ayo" chorus, "One Way Traffic" already feels like classic RHCP, as Anthony Kiedis laments his friends getting older and settling down: "Now they read them catalogs." (His escape? Driving down the PCH, music turned up, to a killer surf spot.) There are heavy moments—"These Are the Ways" is pure grunge; "Here Ever After" feels ominous; and "The Heavy Wing" lives up to its name with eye-watering guitar—and dreamy ones that showcase Frusciante's fluid touch (ballad "Not the One," the Steely Dan chill of "Let 'Em Cry," the slip-and-slide R&B of "She's a Lover"). There's even a song that does both, as "Whatchu Thinkin'" flies from pretty, slightly psyched-out melody to blissed-out jam. The band is also, after all these years, still able to evolve and surprise. "Bastards of Light" gets almost country before it crests in a grunge breakdown; "White Braids & Pillow Chair" is a slice of experimental weirdness, weaving in bits of gospel and rumbling Western scores. (The verdict is still out on Kiedis' Hiberno-meets-pirate affectation on the stomper "Black Summer.") This is much, much more than a legacy band turning out the same old stuff. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

White Blood Cells may have been a reaction to the amount of fame the White Stripes had received up to the point of its release, but, paradoxically, it made full-fledged rock stars out of Jack and Meg White and sold over half a million copies in the process. Despite the White Stripes' ambivalence, fame nevertheless seems to suit them: They just become more accomplished as the attention paid to them increases. Elephant captures this contradiction within the Stripes and their music; it's the first album they've recorded for a major label, and it sounds even more pissed-off, paranoid, and stunning than its predecessor. Darker and more difficult than White Blood Cells, the album offers nothing as immediately crowd-pleasing or sweet as "Fell in Love With a Girl" or "We're Going to Be Friends," but it's more consistent, exploring disillusionment and rejection with razor-sharp focus. Chip-on-the-shoulder anthems like the breathtaking opener, "Seven Nation Army," which is driven by Meg White's explosively minimal drumming, and "The Hardest Button to Button," in which Jack White snarls "Now we're a family!" -- one of the best oblique threats since Black Francis sneered "It's educational!" all those years ago -- deliver some of the fiercest blues-punk of the White Stripes' career. "There's No Home for You Here" sets a girl's walking papers to a melody reminiscent of "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" (though the result is more sequel than rehash), driving the point home with a wall of layered, Queen-ly harmonies and piercing guitars, while the inspired version of "I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself" goes from plaintive to angry in just over a minute, though the charging guitars at the end sound perversely triumphant. At its bruised heart, Elephant portrays love as a power struggle, with chivalry and innocence usually losing out to the power of seduction. "I Want to Be the Boy" tries, unsuccessfully, to charm a girl's mother; "You've Got Her in Your Pocket," a deceptively gentle ballad, reveals the darker side of the Stripes' vulnerability, blurring the line between caring for someone and owning them with some fittingly fluid songwriting. The battle for control reaches a fever pitch on the "Fell in Love With a Girl"-esque "Hypnotize," which suggests some slightly underhanded ways of winning a girl over before settling for just holding her hand, and on the show-stopping "Ball and Biscuit," seven flat-out seductive minutes of preening, boasting, and amazing guitar prowess that ranks as one the band's most traditionally bluesy (not to mention sexy) songs. Interestingly, Meg's star turn, "In the Cold, Cold Night," is the closest Elephant comes to a truce in this struggle, her kitten-ish voice balancing the song's slinky words and music. While the album is often dark, it's never despairing; moments of wry humor pop up throughout, particularly toward the end. "Little Acorns" begins with a sound clip of Detroit newscaster Mort Crim's Second Thoughts radio show, adding an authentic, if unusual, Motor City feel. It also suggests that Jack White is one of the few vocalists who could make a lyric like "Be like the squirrel" sound cool and even inspiring. Likewise, the showy "Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine" -- on which White resembles a garage rock snake-oil salesman -- is probably the only song featuring the word "acetaminophen" in its chorus. "It's True That We Love One Another," which features vocals from Holly Golightly as well as Meg White, continues the Stripes' tradition of closing their albums on a lighthearted note. Almost as much fun to analyze as it is to listen to, Elephant overflows with quality -- it's full of tight songwriting, sharp, witty lyrics, and judiciously used basses and tumbling keyboard melodies that enhance the band's powerful simplicity (and the excellent "The Air Near My Fingers" features all of these). Crucially, the White Stripes know the difference between fame and success; while they may not be entirely comfortable with their fame, they've succeeded at mixing blues, punk, and garage rock in an electrifying and unique way ever since they were strictly a Detroit phenomenon. On these terms, Elephant is a phenomenal success.© Heather Phares /TiVo

28-year-old Michael Kiwanuka's second album, Love & Hate, comes 4 years after his first, and with it, a more refined sound. The same soulful tones that gave Kiwanuka such a broad following remain the focal point of the new album, as do the lilting melodies and baleful lyrics, but thanks to producers Dangermouse and Inflo, as well as a huge supporting cast of musicians, this album manages to throw the punch we were promised by the first. Beginning with a 9 minute, Pink Floyd inspired 'opus', the album feels expansive and varied. It feels like a coming of age record, a musical maturation for this singer, who is already being hailed as one of the greatest voices around. Ranging from sweeping orchestral arrangements to melancholy introspections, this second effort seems more mature and measured, but remains a 'nearly' moment. Overdone and overloaded, this second album has lost some of the immediacy and realness that made the first stand out. Kiwanuka's voice is sometimes overwhelmed by the size and scale of the arrangements, rather than playing to his strengths. Nevertheless, the overall quality of the record will undoubtedly make it a big winner this year. RK/Qobuz

Nils Frahm's Music for Animals is a three-hour work meant to evoke an experience similar to spending time in nature and staring at flora or bodies of water -- something without a specific progression or outcome. Its title riffs on the proliferation of functional playlists on streaming services, and society's insistence on attaching a purpose to music and grouping recordings by certain listening habits. Of course, ambient music is generally used as a soundtrack for sleeping, meditation, or any number of daily activities, and Music for Animals works on those levels as well, but Frahm isn't suggesting how the audience is supposed to engage with the release. He's simply presenting it and saying that it exists, just like mountains, or forests, or rivers. The album's ten compositions are lengthy and minimal, with several coming close to half an hour each. None of them feature acoustic pianos, but it's hard to tell if the sounds are entirely generated by synthesizers or if other instruments are involved -- the fragile, wheezing "Do Dream" was almost certainly created using a harmonium. Like much of Frahm's work, the music embraces the ambiance of his surroundings, with incidental noises present, and his playing is spontaneous, even as everything feels slowed down to a glacial blur. A few pieces make excellent usage of Berlin School-style rippling pulsations, with "Sheep in Black and White" very slowly and subtly evolving and fluctuating in intensity. "Right Right Right" is the only track under ten minutes, and its flickering echoes and melancholy synth shades bring to mind Loscil's more dub-informed work. "World of Squares" is perhaps the coldest and most foreboding piece, going nowhere yet giving the impression of sinking deeper and deeper. Music for Animals might seem daunting due to its length and starkness, but it's actually one of Frahm's most listenable albums, rewarding immersion and half-ignored background placement alike.© Paul Simpson /TiVo

The scion of a musical dynasty (his father was folk-singer Leon Bibb and his uncle was jazzman John Lewis), Eric Bibb released his first album almost 50 years ago. He grew up in the blues, but he has long been much, much more than simply a bluesman. He has travelled and lived extensively outside the United States, sought inspiration in African music, and refined his technique through contact with other styles and musicians. Dear America, released in the year of his 70th birthday, is a kind of return to his roots. This is a historian's album, which visits some tragic pages of Afro-American history in song. Musically, this is a record rooted in blues, soul and gospel choirs. These are genres so old and well-worn that one wonders how musicians can still draw life from them without falling into clichés. But Eric Bibb succeeds, and with young-at-heart verve, he transforms this return to the roots into an elixir of youth. He does not handle this old music like an antiques dealer, but like a craftsman or a sculptor who is perpetually dazzled by the forms that emerge from the raw material. The picking is soft, the tempo laid-back, and all the tracks here are bathed in a sober elegance. He moves from blues to acoustic soul or folk with a unique fluidity that he shares with his musicians, including drummer Steve Jordan, bassist Ron Carter, guitarist Eric Gales, singers Shaneeka Simon and Lisa Mills. This is an album of American music by a zen master of the form. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

After Join Hands, guitarist John McKay and drummer Kenny Morris departed the Banshees, leaving the band at a crossroads. Siouxsie Sioux and Steven Severin elected to soldier on with ex-Slits drummer Budgie and two guitarists, ex-Sex Pistol Steve Jones and John McGeoch of Magazine as guest Banshees. Despite the personnel upheaval, the result is a surprisingly strong record: Kaleidoscope. While a number of the songs here are still dark-hued and feature bleak lyrics, they are made very palatable by extraordinarily imaginative production values featuring intricate synthesizer-flecked arrangements; psychedelic touches in "Christine," spaceship synthesizer swoops in "Tenant," and rhythmic camera clicks in "Red Light" all enliven their respective songs. Sound quality here is lighter and much clearer than on previous releases. Sioux's singing shows noticeable improvement here, still tuneless at times but also exhibiting more range and subtlety than previously. The song "Hybrid," a Joy Division-style number, shows her vocals running the gamut from primitive to inspired. Other highlights include the galloping, vibrant up-tempo number "Skin," the spooky and atmospheric "Lunar Camel," the medium-tempo rocker "Trophy," and the punky vocalise "Clockface." Kaleidoscope was a make-or-break album for Siouxsie and the Banshees, and happily the band came through strongly.© David Cleary /TiVo

Surfacing was released as the first Lilith Fair tour hit the road, and Sarah McLachlan benefited enormously from the timing. As the organizer of Lilith Fair, McLachlan was on the cover of magazines across America and Canada, which helped Surfacing debut at number two on the U.S. charts -- a particularly remarkable feat since its predecessor, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, peaked at number 50. All the commercial success and media hype disguised the fact that Surfacing not only didn't offer anything new from McLachlan, but it wasn't a particularly strong consolidation of her talents. That it isn't to say it's a bad record, because it certainly isn't -- there are several fine songs on the album, including the single "Building a Mystery" -- but it doesn't offer anything new, and the songs aren't as consistently captivating as they were on Fumbling Towards Ecstasy. And that suggests that even though McLachlan was at the height of her popularity, she may have begun to run out of ideas.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Get Happy!! was born as much from sincere love for soul as it was for Elvis Costello's desire to distance himself from an unfortunate verbal faux pas where he insulted Ray Charles in an attempt to get Stephen Stills' goat. Either way, it resulted in a 20-song blue-eyed soul tour de force, where Costello doesn't just want to prove his love, he wants to prove his knowledge. So, he tries everything, starting with Motown and Northern soul, then touching on smooth uptown ballads and gritty Southern soul, even finding common ground between the two by recasting Sam & Dave's "I Can't Stand Up (For Falling Down)" as a careening stomper. What's remarkable is that this approach dovetails with the pop carnival essayed by Armed Forces, standing as a full-fledged Costello record instead of a genre exercise. As it furiously flits through 20 songs, Costello's cynicisms, rage, humor, and misanthropic sensibility gel remarkably well. Some songs may not quite hit their targets, but that's part of the album's charm -- it moves so fast that its lesser songs rush by on the way to such full-fledged masterpieces as "New Amsterdam," "High Fidelity," and "Riot Act." Get Happy!! bursts with energy and invention, standing as a testament to how Costello, the pop encyclopedia, can reinvent the past in his own image. [The Japanese edition includes bonus material.]© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

When "Polk Salad Annie" blared from transistor radio speakers in the summer of 1969, the first thought was of Creedence Clearwater Revival, for Tony Joe White's swamp rock bore more than a passing resemblance to the sound John Fogerty whipped up on Bayou Country and Green River. But White was the real thing -- he really was from the bayou country of Louisiana, while Fogerty's bayou country was conjured up in Berkeley, CA. Plus, White had a mellow baritone voice that sounded like it had been dredged up from the bottom of the Delta. Besides "Annie," side one of this album includes several other White originals. The best of these are "Willie and Laura Mae Jones," a song about race relations with an arrangement similar to "Ballad of Billie Joe," and "Soul Francisco," a short piece of funky fluff that had been a big hit in Europe in 1968. "Aspen, Colorado" presages the later "Rainy Night in Georgia," a White composition popularized by Brook Benton. The second side consists of covers of contemporary hits, with the funky "Who's Making Love" and "Scratch My Back" faring better than the slow stuff. Dusty Springfield had a minor hit with "Willie and Laura Mae Jones," and White's songs were recorded by other performers through the years, but "Polk Salad Annie" and the gators that got her granny provided his only march in the American hit parade.© Jim Newsom /TiVo

Following his 2017 mixtape 999, Los Angeles-based hip-hop artist Juice WRLD issued his official debut full-length, Goodbye & Good Riddance (Interscope), in May 2018. The set landed at number 15 on the Billboard 200 upon release and featured melancholy, trap-based singles like "All Girls Are the Same" and the Hot 100 hit "Lucid Dreams." © Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo

Minstrel in the Gallery was Tull's most artistically successful and elaborately produced album since Thick as a Brick and harked back to that album with the inclusion of a 17-minute extended piece ("Baker Street Muse"). Although English folk elements abound, this is really a hard rock showcase on a par with -- and perhaps even more aggressive than -- anything on Aqualung. The title track is a superb showcase for the group, freely mixing folk melodies, lilting flute passages, and archaic, pre-Elizabethan feel, and the fiercest electric rock in the group's history -- parts of it do recall phrases from A Passion Play, but all of it is more successful than anything on War Child. Martin Barre's attack on the guitar is as ferocious as anything in the band's history, and John Evan's organ matches him amp for amp, while Barriemore Barlow and Jeffrey Hammond-Hammond hold things together in a furious performance. Anderson's flair for drama and melody come to the fore in "Cold Wind to Valhalla," and "Requiem" is the loveliest acoustic number in Tull's repertory, featuring nothing but Anderson's singing and acoustic guitar, Hammond-Hammond's bass, and a small string orchestra backing them. "Nothing at All" isn't far behind for sheer, unabashed beauty, but "Black Satin Dancer" is a little too cacophonous for its own good. "Baker Street Muse" recalls Thick as a Brick and A Passion Play, not only in its structure but a few passages; at slightly under 17 minutes, it's a tad more manageable than either of its conceptual predecessors, and it has all of their virtues, freely overlapping hard rock and folk material, classical arrangements (some of the most tasteful string playing on a Tull recording), surprising tempo shifts, and complex stream-of-consciousness lyrics (some of which clearly veer into self-parody) into a compelling whole.© Bruce Eder /TiVo