Jason Isbell released his first solo record not long after parting ways with the Drive-By Truckers and quickly settled into a groove with his band, the 400 Unit, releasing two well-received albums and winning Song of the Year at the 2012 Americana Music Awards for "Alabama Pines." But his fourth solo record, Southeastern—the first released under his own name—is even more stunning. Produced by Dave Cobb and released in the wake of Isbell getting sober, the landmark modern Americana album feels like a collection of short stories populated by vibrant, deeply human characters grappling with challenging life experiences. "Elephant" is a striking song about the complicated emotions that crop up with a friend dying from cancer; "Songs That She Sang In The Shower" features someone in a dark mental space haunted by the memory of an ex's presence; and "Yvette" is from the perspective of a teenage boy ready to protect a classmate from abuse. And the stark "Traveling Alone" on which Isbell's wife Amanda Shires contributes solemn fiddle and vocals, focuses on a narrator who's weary of his own behaviors (and past) and is looking for a fresh start.Isbell's strident guitars cut to the emotional quick throughout, whether hewing toward delicate folk-rock or his trademark Southern rock roar. However, he also cut many of his vocals in one take, which gives Southeastern a feeling of raw immediacy that's matched by Cobb's warm production. But in a nod to one of the album's thematic undercurrents—searching for connection and community wherever you can—Isbell surrounds himself with guest musicians. Will Johnson's vocals enrich the barnstorming "Super 8," while Kim Richey appears on two songs, including the waltzing folk number "Stockholm." Isbell's 400 Unit bandmates Chad Gamble and Derry deBorja add drums and keyboards (respectively). An expanded 2023 version of Southeastern contains demos and live tracks (and is also newly in hi-res), which amplifies the nuances of the songwriting. A decade-plus on, the album remains one of Isbell's finest—and most vulnerable—moments. © Annie Zaleski/Qobuz

There comes a time in every punk's life where he or she has to grow up, or at least acknowledge that maturity is just around the corner. blink-182 put it off for as long as they could, but ten years into their career and two albums after their big breakthrough, 1999's Enema of the State, they decided to make a stab at being grown-ups for their eponymous sixth studio album. As with many self-titled albums, the trio uses this as an attempt to redefine itself, and they have considerably expanded both their sonic template and lyrical outlook on blink-182. They're still rooted in punk-pop, but even songs that stretch no further than that sound are a little darker, a little restless, reflecting the overall mood of the record. In shorthand, this is the record where blink-182 delve into post-punk, opting for some appealingly sullen moodiness, off-kilter hooks, lots of sonic textures, and even a duet with the Cure's Robert Smith. Since the trio is an inherently catchy group, this is a far cry from neo-post-punk groups like Interpol or even the dynamically hooky Hot Hot Heat, but there is a greater variety of sounds on blink-182 than on any of the trio's other albums, and the songwriting is similarly adventurous, alternating punchy, impassioned punk-pop with weirder, atmospheric pieces like "Down" and "I'm Lost Without You." If nothing on the album has the immediate impact of "All the Small Things" -- though the opener, "Feeling This," comes close -- and if, on the whole, blink-182 isn't as bracing or visceral as Dude Ranch or Enema, so be it: there's more to explore on this album than any of their other records. It's an unexpected and welcome maturation from a band that just an album ago seemed permanently stuck in juvenilia.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Swedish DJ Avicii is a strange case. In 2011, he broke through with "Levels," a bleepy and bright bit of EDM that could have been his signature hit, but then his 2013 album, True, was a country-pop and folk-inspired affair that thrilled his fans with its inventiveness, but left others as cold as a meandering Mumford & Sons remix effort. Two years later, his LP Stories is another genre-busting affair that fits in better with mainstream radio than it does the club, but everything iffy about True has been perfected here, as the producer revisits the song-oriented album and lets the outside genres freely come and go. Country-pop is back in EDM remix form when "Broken Arrows" offers a spirited Zac Brown song with Avicii pumping it higher during the whirlwind bridge, but "Pure Grinding" is a highlight that would have never fit on True, and it lives up to its claim to be "funktronica" with double-dutch lyrics and '70s electro in support. "Touch Me" is a bell-bottomed delight that owes a debt to the disco movement, specifically Chic, and if the strange "City Lights" is the album's most arguable track, fans of Meco and Giorgio Moroder could argue it's spot-on with its robot vocals and tiny melody. "Talk to Myself," with Sterling Fox, steps into the '80s with a modern version of Matthew Wilder's "Break My Stride," and the rest of the prime moments come from the mainstream pop side of the spectrum, with the Martin Garrix and Simon Aldred (Cherry Ghost) feature "Waiting for Love" leading the pack. "Can't Catch Me," with Matisyahu and Wyclef Jean, is reggae, but the kind that Michael Franti and Radio Margaritaville can agree on, while "For a Better Day" is the same kind of electro and soul that Moby took to the top of the charts. Complaints that this isn't a dance album and doesn't sound like "Levels" may still be filed, but they're better applied to True. The pleasing, alive, and diverse Stories is a fine reason to think of Avicii as a producer of attractive music, with EDM, pop, and all other genres on a sliding scale.© David Jeffries /TiVo

A decade after their last album and the inescapable "I Love It" (featuring Charli XCX)—a song that pop culture still can't quit—the Swedish electropop duo Icona Pop are back. Caroline Hjelt and Aino Jawo had coasted on the endless party circuit of festival and dance celeb gigs for years, until the pandemic actually brought the party to an end. "Initially, we were devastated to leave LA and the whole system we had built there. Suddenly, we were in Sweden, and we felt alone. In retrospect, I'm very happy we were there, but there was a lot of crying at first," the pair said in a statement. But they regrouped "and thought 'what the fuck are we going to do now?' Eclectic, fun, hard, pop, deep, mainstream, catchy, weird, late at night, early in the morning—always with a tear in the corner of the eye and a smile on our face." That freedom and time to explore led them in a wild variety of directions. Chill "Fall In Love," with its catchy "fa-la-la-la in love" line, fits with Dua Lipa's sophisticated modern disco sound. "Need You" mixes R&B influence with a hard, metallic edge and throbbing undercurrent. "Loving You Ain't Easy" relies on cool-breeze piano and a skittish rhythm for its expression of naked desire. Hjelt and Jawo play with burbling pop on "Stockholm at Night" and "Feels In My Body," while "Desire" packs in deep house beats and features Joel Corry and Rain Radio. It's just one of many collabs, along with "I Want You" with EDM duo Galantis, the fun-house vibe of "Off of My Mind" with Vize, and kinetic "Shit We Do for Love" featuring longtime writing partner Yaeger. The star turn, though, is "You're Free," a rework of Ultra Naté's 25-year-old "Free" whose super powered vocals and pleasure-seeking focus perfectly jibes with Icona Pop's MO: "Yeah, I just wanna dance right now till my heels wear out!" And while "Where Do We Go From Here" is not as explosive as "I Love It," it still fizzes and pops and delivers a glorious build. But the wildest moments come in the form of "Stick Your Tongue Out"—a pulsing Peaches-esque banger that orders "lick it, lick it"—and closer "Spa," with guest stars Sofi Tukker. With rocking guitar and goofball self-care lyrics, it is pure camp: "Put some cukes on my eyes/ Tell me, is this paradise?" Tucker Halpern deadpans, while the girls declare: "I'm done with the club/ Just take me to the spa/ 'Cause I wanna feel the sweat/ From the steam room and the sauna." Why not? © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz

Though some may still consider them Radiohead mimics, obviously Muse continues to strike a nerve with their alternative hard rock audience, here releasing their third album of heavy guitars, haunted harmonics, and paranoid musings in Absolution. Frontman Matt Bellamy and company stick to the same disturbed, and sometimes disturbing, formula that's worked in the past: the emotional intensity and style of Radiohead, a rock thunder descended from Black Sabbath, and the baroque drama of Queen. Longtime producer John Leckie sits this one out, and in steps indie über-engineer Rich Costey. With Costey manning the desk, the music feels more polished and slick, but less epic and raw. Longtime fans won't miss a beat though, because Bellamy delivers the same Thom Yorke vocal impersonation for which he's known, and continues the same anthemic posturing he's lifted from Freddie Mercury. With song titles and subject matter fueled by fear of the apocalypse and worries about infidelities and random murders, the subject matter is as gloriously pretentious and lovably unlovable as ever. Newcomers to the band should expect killer guitars reminiscent of jackhammers and chainsaws, bloodcurdling choruses, and of course, tender passages of falsetto. A recurring motif of racing samplers suggests nothing less than a rock opera version of the score to Koyaanisqatsi, and then there are the occasional spooky moments where funky rhythms mingle with heavy metal guitars, suggesting a progressive Italian zombie flick soundtrack. There's little point in selecting highlights, because other than some slow moments that feel tacked on, there's not much variation in theme or mood. Many listeners will probably prefer to tackle the album in small doses, and only the most headstrong won't require a breather. Muse continues to make unrelenting hardcore art rock; Absolution is a tad cheesy, a bit too grandiose in its ambitions, bursting at the seams with too many ideas, and thus exactly what any Muse fan craves.© Tim DiGravina /TiVo

In the 1980s, tenor saxophonist Houston Person and bassist Ron Carter recorded a pair of unlikely but successful duo albums. Person, who has mostly been heard through the years with organ groups, piano trios, and accompanying the late singer Etta Jones, has a large tone worthy of Gene Ammons, while Ron Carter (who has played with everyone) clearly had a good time interacting with Person in the sparse format. In 2000, Person and Carter recorded their third duet album, and the results are at least as rewarding as their first two collaborations. On such songs as "Doxy," "Dear Old Stockholm," "On the Sunny Side of the Street," and "Mack the Knife," Person and Carter swing hard and sound at their most playful and creative in each other's company. They both sound inspired by this setting (where every sound counts) and play with full confidence; there is not a single hesitant moment. This is a particularly memorable and enjoyable effort that features the two musicians at their best.© Scott Yanow /TiVo

Although they are still the U.K.'s most vital punk band, Idles are on fire, not just in terms of their productivity -- four albums in four years -- or their renewed vigor, but also off the back of their first lukewarm record, Ultra Mono. However, it's terribly on-brand for Idles to not go gentle, and Crawler is nothing if not rage against the dying of the light. After sensing that their sound was becoming stale, Idles' fourth album sees the band exploring several new avenues at once. The need to evolve is true of any artist, but many don't take the leap for fear of the risks. Crawler, then, defaults to their most daring album to date, as it incorporates elements of electronic music, noise rock, soul, and 2000s indie. It's also their densest record, with generally more obscured themes and more nuance than ever before -- clearly made in response to the broadness of previous material. Despite some missteps, Ultra Mono only furthered their assent and stature, allowing the band to feel untethered from genre conventions and free to explore. They drive this home immediately, with the opening track "MTT 420 RR" bucking the trend of explosive openers in favor of subtle swirling electronics, which build upon themselves in interesting ways. Of course, they're attempting to straddle both old and new, so it leads into "The Wheel," which is more in line with their explosive reputation, even if the instrumentation is meatier. Yet another side of the album reveals itself in "When the Lights Come On," which features a spectral guitar line reminiscent of Kings of Leon's "Knocked Up." With half their hand on the table they settle into familiar and often uninspiring territory, that is until lead track "Beachland Ballroom." Although not their first foray into soulful territory -- after covering Solomon Burke's "Cry to Me" -- the track is a clear highlight, demonstrating how compatible this approach is; Talbot's personal struggle to keep moving forward makes for a bittersweet listen, deftly proving his melodic range and underlining how good Idles can be when they show relative restraint. The back half of the record is very scattershot, but consistently surprising, featuring an ambient interlude ("Kelechi"), a beautifully ethereal soundscape that erupts into synth and bass stabs ("Progress"), and a burst of hardcore punk ("Wizz"). The anthemic closer "The End" reaffirms that this is still Idles, acting as a not-so-gentle reminder that when the big guns are necessary, they can still raise the roof. It's great to see so many new ideas from a band who flirted with stagnation, a point only exemplified by the weakest songs being the ones that stick closest to their old formula. It makes Crawler more than just a course correction; it has the potential to open the door to the Idles multiverse, where multiple versions of the band co-exist. Whilst it doesn't always stick the landing, the new spaces it does explore are well worth the journey. © Liam Martin /TiVo

Having left his full-time role on the hit comedy Community to concentrate on music, rapper Donald Glover aka Childish Gambino gets broader and bolder on his 2013 effort Because the Internet, an indulgent kaleidoscope of studio tricks and celebrity problems that's still wildly attractive thanks to its smarts and ability to swing. That latter bit comes courtesy of primary producers Glover and Ludwig Goransson, who mix the edgy sounds of indie rap and indie pop with the best the mainstream world of R&B has to offer. Cool, radio-friendly crooner Lloyd shows up on the creamy West Coast dream called "Telegraph Ave.," while "3005" comes with a chorus so uplifting and bright, it makes the nerdy stay-at-home wallflower at its center sound epic and sexy. The booming influence of the A$AP Mob is felt on numerous cloudy cuts like the grand "Worldstar," where popping pills at Coachella, a Martin Scorsese reference, and a twisted sax solo all congeal into a dank glop of hip-hop hash oil. Then there are all the instrumental interludes that divide the album into chapters or suites, because this one reaches for art with some interruptions for getting flashy on "The Worst Guys" (where Chance the Rapper is merely Chance the Hypeman) and crashing on the couch for either a spliff, or maybe spliff and a sweet snuggle, with Jhené Aiko's "Pink Toes." All of it flows splendidly and Gambino's wit, hipness, and lyrical dexterity are all still strong points, with "I got more tail than Petco," "More green than my Whole Foods/And I'm too Fly, Jeff Goldblum," plus a reference to the "Ain't Nobody Got Time for That" meme being some examples. Still, even with all these strong points, Gambino often frames his angst and anger with the burden of being born rich (something he mentions quite often on the album), providing plenty of "we should all have such problems" bait or "hierarchy of needs" ammunition, depending on the listener's viewpoint/bank account. Even the short "The Party" finds him inviting friends over and then yelling at them to get the "F" out, but there's long been a wide gap between the life experience of rappers and their fans, something supported by the growling background vocals on "Crawl" provided by Mystikal, an MC who did plenty of hard time when most of his fans have not. Connecting with the album is nearly impossible, understanding it is difficult, and often enough, its inflated ego is irksome, but Because the Internet is too free and fascinating to be dragged down by these complaints, so if a Yeezus with more flash and fun is what's required, Gambino's got the good stuff.© David Jeffries /TiVo

1997's I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One is not just the Hoboken, NJ-originating trio's first truly great record, it's one of the best records of the 1990s.  There's a lot here! Extended drones, brokenhearted lullabies, brief and gently pastoral Americana passages, late-night bossa nova, a chaotic and joyous rocker, one cover version, some space-age twang rock, an undeniably funky organ-propelled anthem that sounds like it's coming from a party you'll never be invited to, a beautifully fucked-up and driving post-Velvets jam, sweet timeless strummy pop, a melted country song, and the first song sung by bassist James McNew (who joined the band in 1992).Yo La Tengo had been messing about with all of these elements for a dozen years prior to this. Their earlier albums were always tasteful examples of top-tier underground rock and from the start they were a strong band with excellent taste—covering the band Love on the B-side of their first 7", referencing Cheetah Chrome and the band America in the space of one song on an early album. And later they had the chutzpah to do a sweet, acoustic album of covers when it was not a cool thing to do, at the same time that they performed sleepy, dirty drone live shows under the name Sleeping Pill.But here, on I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One, it's all part of the same whole—finally. Even what should be wild swings in terms of sound, noise level, or instrumentation, come through as organic and of a whole. Recorded in Nashville, and produced by Roger Moutenot, this was the album that made everyone into a Yo La Tengo fan.  © Mike McGonigal/Qobuz

Jason Isbell released his first solo record not long after parting ways with the Drive-By Truckers and quickly settled into a groove with his band, the 400 Unit, releasing two well-received albums and winning Song of the Year at the 2012 Americana Music Awards for "Alabama Pines." But his fourth solo record, Southeastern—the first released under his own name—is even more stunning. Produced by Dave Cobb and released in the wake of Isbell getting sober, the landmark modern Americana album feels like a collection of short stories populated by vibrant, deeply human characters grappling with challenging life experiences. "Elephant" is a striking song about the complicated emotions that crop up with a friend dying from cancer; "Songs That She Sang In The Shower" features someone in a dark mental space haunted by the memory of an ex's presence; and "Yvette" is from the perspective of a teenage boy ready to protect a classmate from abuse. And the stark "Traveling Alone" on which Isbell's wife Amanda Shires contributes solemn fiddle and vocals, focuses on a narrator who's weary of his own behaviors (and past) and is looking for a fresh start.Isbell's strident guitars cut to the emotional quick throughout, whether hewing toward delicate folk-rock or his trademark Southern rock roar. However, he also cut many of his vocals in one take, which gives Southeastern a feeling of raw immediacy that's matched by Cobb's warm production. But in a nod to one of the album's thematic undercurrents—searching for connection and community wherever you can—Isbell surrounds himself with guest musicians. Will Johnson's vocals enrich the barnstorming "Super 8," while Kim Richey appears on two songs, including the waltzing folk number "Stockholm." Isbell's 400 Unit bandmates Chad Gamble and Derry deBorja add drums and keyboards (respectively). An expanded 2023 version of Southeastern contains demos and live tracks (and is also newly in hi-res), which amplifies the nuances of the songwriting. A decade-plus on, the album remains one of Isbell's finest—and most vulnerable—moments. © Annie Zaleski/Qobuz

Early in their career, Caroline Rose favored an acoustic-driven sound hewing toward a more folk and Americana direction. But even then, the Long Island-raised songwriter resisted pigeonholing: The bruising "At Midnight," from 2014's I Will Not Be Afraid, cut closer to the scraping blues-rock favored by PJ Harvey or The Kills. When Rose embraced minimalist disco and dreamy electro on 2020's Superstar, the pivot felt completely logical—just another facet of themselves they're peeling away and exploring.Rose's stunning fifth studio album, The Art of Forgetting, arrives as they've settled into a groove that's even more ambitious and impossible to define. The release brims with spectral music where acoustic instruments are a foundation for surging strings, layered vocal arrangements, ornate piano and ethereal synths. "The Doldrums" resembles Kate Bush circa The Dreaming, while standout "The Kiss" is dark, intense synth-pop and "Stockholm Syndrome" is lo-fi folk filtered through what sounds like music from an antique gramophone. At times, these elements are often distorted or manipulated, creating a disorienting atmosphere—as on "Rebirth," where Rose's vocals are impacted by light digital retouching and moments of splintered synths.The Art of Forgetting arose during a time when Rose was weathering a breakup and delving back into themes revolving around family, childhood and memory. "I was writing songs the way that I used to when I was a kid," Rose said in the bio along with the album. "It was more like therapy, just sitting down on my bed and writing about what I was feeling. It sounds so simple but I had really gotten away from that." Understandably, a pervasive sense of melancholy and an awareness of life's fragility permeates The Art of Forgetting. For example, doting voicemails from their grandmother are sprinkled throughout the album, including serving as the foundation for the piano-driven "Better Than Gold," which wavers and shakes like a degrading cassette tape.But in between flashes of grief and loss, Rose is also figuring out how to move forward. "You've got to get through this life somehow!" they sing on "Miami," while on "Kiss," the line "I would do most anything for the kiss of someone new" is repeated as the song grows in intensity, underscoring the desire and urgency behind the wish. And even when Rose leans into more traditional pop arrangements, as on the dynamic "Everywhere I Go I Bring the Rain," the song defies expectations and grasps for something better. Rose switches between their high and low vocal range, and places an echoing bridge at a flashpoint in the song, setting up an ending that explodes like a burst of confetti and celebrates imperfection. © Annie Zaleski/Qobuz