The singer-songwriter’s fourth album clears the brain of stress, one shove of distortion at a time.
Toronto’s Max Turnbull fully realizes the vision and promise hinted at by his earlier work.
Seattle surf rockers embrace hazy complexities with their sophomore release.
On his second album, Winston Yellen tries Auto-Tune and R&B on for size.
The London singer’s sophomore effort lands a few triumphant risks.
Another hazy fog of mid-tempo nostalgia.
The eccentric songwriter copes with the woes of love with a sobering mini-album.
London indie rockers sink into a pleasant, unoriginal rut.
The iconic group won’t let the weight of their subject matter hold down propulsive energy.
There’s no reason for this hardcore supergroup behemoth to exist, but we’ll gladly take it.
An audacious, 93-minute rock opera that wants to be read as a text — and deserves to be.
Michael Silver can’t quite fuse electronic soundscapes and acoustic flourishes.
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