FLOOD

Folksy, harmonic, and earnest in a way that Reed’s often-salacious songs could never be, this archival leap into memory lane is charming, scattered, sketchy, and even funny at times.

Alex Giannascoli’s latest has a density to its proceedings that his previous albums lack—all while maintaining the quirk and intimacy of the bedsit recording proposition of his project’s origin.

Brittney Parks finds more of her own soulful way with a richer sense of storytelling, focused songcraft, and studies of racial divides on her second LP.

This handsomely illustrated boxset is a commendable attempt at stuffing the story of the legendary producer and toaster into one collection.

The producer and vocalist’s fourth full-length is a haunting and deeply personal work without eschewing her usual radically manic aesthetics.

Upon the release of two archival collections—First of the Brooklyn Cowgirls and Pussycat—the ’50s-era figure walks us through the many fortunate turns her music career took.

The drummer discusses growing with the band over the past five decades, as well as their epic new eight-LP box set.

Still a pillar of the avant-garde in 2022, Galás has neither mellowed or pulled back when it comes to rage on the two extended tracks that fill her latest LP.

The improvisation and collaboration on Hendrik Weber’s latest LP vibes with Gaia’s role as an ancestral mother to all that is life in Greek mythology.

This live recording of a set from 2019 further proves that any musical team that could bring vintage Young into the present without watering down its tenderness or poetry is heroic.

This collaborative LP places producer Danger Mouse’s lush, tense arrangements and cushiony, snapping beats in the service of The Roots’ lyricist and microphone expert.

The Beasties clean up nice on this reissue of the album that introduced their dirtball brand of insistently stewing lo-fi mixed-bag skronk.

The 1970 film’s OST is one long, funky collage moving jarringly from blues, jazz, honky-tonk, ragtime, rock, country, and R&B without distinction between the lines.

Bey’s seventh solo album is about abandon and joy, something celebratory that hasn’t been in her music since 2006’s B’Day.

Kevin Barnes remains an always-unexpected delight with hints of madness, the morose, and zealous merriment in the air on their latest experiment.

Trafficking in sloe-ginned-up melancholy and soft shoe-shuffling pacing, this collection of covers sees the duo at weird ease interpreting Wilson’s catalog.

Journalist Larry Sloman and vocalist Sharon Robinson dig deeper into their relationship with the song at the heart of the new documentary feature from Dan Geller and Dayna Goldfine.

On this previously unreleased collection recorded in 2001, Young and the Horse do nuance and near silence with the same raging emotion they do noise and propelled rhythm.

Camae Ayewa has created a melodic tone poem with stunning clarity, calm, tuneful choruses, and lustrous complexity on her new album.

For Wire fanatics, this often-coarse collection of Chairs Missing/154-era demos is a necessity.