FLOOD

Fully embracing the trashy SoundCloud-era internet aesthetic as she raps, sings, and shreds over industrial clatter, this is the sound of an artist who’s still inspired by the cutting edge at 72.

Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett’s guest-packed ninth album is a different kind of Gorillaz record—frequently interior, occasionally existential, surprisingly heartfelt.

Once again demonstrating her command of genre and lineage, the bluegrass songwriter’s turn toward pop is less a rejection of her roots than an expansion of her worldview.

The blues-rock duo sifts through wreckage in search of meaning and growth on their 13th album only to come up with answers that are every bit as pat and saccharine as the title suggests.

The Tennessean country-soul songwriter’s latest finds her sounding comfortable in her own skin, offering what may be the purest distillation yet of her strange charm and dogged positivity.

Explicitly pitched as a response to the unrest of early 2025, the former Hüsker Dü leader’s first album in five years continues to confidently summon instant-earworm hooks and visceral thrills.

This 75-minute opus pays tribute to Baldwin’s righteous witness, applying his moral and spiritual rigor to Black experience in contemporary America with big ideas and vivid emotions.

The prodigious jazz band leader shifts from kinetic energy to meditative tranquility as he puts down the sax on a solo release that’s somehow both calming and jarring.

The celebrated Philadelphia rapper’s debut full-length is made up of masterpieces in miniature—two- to three-minute songs intimate in their scope and spare in their production.

Exposure is the dominant mode on the Chicago-based songwriter’s latest, in which her language feels more carefully chiseled, more focused and impactful than ever before.

Beyond being wiser than her debut, this sophomore LP is also sharper, meaner, funnier, more assured, more pleasurable, and more persuasive that Rodrigo is operating on a plane of her own.

Coalescing disparate genres, generations, and value systems into a big-tent pop blockbuster, Batiste’s latest streamlines musical and ideological sophistication into an LP designed for mass appeal.

The jazz fusionist plays to his strengths as a sample-based thinker and collage artist while also showing how he can wrestle his micro-moments into long-form works.

The teen punks’ debut is a set of sturdily constructed songs that blur the line between bubblegum tunefulness, power pop crunch, and punk abandon.

Kacey’s latest feels like several types of divorce album spliced together, at once messy, conflicted, and purposeful.

The jazz collective’s fourth album is first and foremost a dance record, bruising, visceral, and thrilling in its physicality.

Bird reconnects with his Squirrel Nut Zippers associate Mathus for the most straightforwardly old-timey music he’s made since the late ’90s.

The latest from Sir Paul is warm, inviting, a little weird, persistently tuneful, endearingly merry.

“Moon Piano” creates an environment that emanates tranquility without ever overstepping its bounds.

“Rumors” may seem almost like a deliberate provocation of the country purists.