Since the release of her Lemonade in 2016, Beyoncé fans from all over waited patiently (and then impatiently) for her next solo album. They wondered when it would arrive, how it would sound, and what they would love most about it. Finally, those questions were answered with the arrival of Renaissance this past summer. Through 16 songs, Queen Bey brought listeners on an electric ride through dance-pop and disco tunes that honored and celebrated the qualities and history of Black and brown queers and trans individuals while giving them, and others, a unique soundtrack to enjoy the freedom they so rightly deserve. – Wongo Okon

It’s typical these days to see bands hitting a resounding peak on their breakthrough albums and then gradually coming back down to earth a bit as they start to experiment and explore the possibilities of what they can create. But not Big Thief. They just keep getting better with each release and the layers of Adrianne Lenker’s songwriting are practically limitless. Some of Dragon’s 20 tracks feel like worlds away from each other; take the embraceable space rock of “Little Things” alongside the bluegrass twang of “Spud Infinity.” But instead of sounding disjointed, they sound like unique parts of a diverse ecosystem of whimsical personalities that reflect the beauty of the world around us. – Adrian Spinelli

There’s nothing comforting about Kendrick Lamar’s Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers. The double-disc release, which brought a close to his time as the face of TDE, goes against nearly everything Kendrick was heralded for. He is often praised for his ideologies and thoughts that were deemed as politically correct, both of which contributed to his placement as “rap’s savior.” However, Kendrick intentionally set out to prove that he is none of the aforementioned items on Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, and he succeeds in doing so. Whether you agree with Kendrick’s sentiments or not, the way he goes about through his lyricism, boldness, and honesty is not only admirable but proof of why he’s still one of today’s best rappers. – Wongo Okon

The Weeknd is one of the biggest pop acts of the past decade, but above that, he’s an artist. While After Hours was bursting with No. 1 hits, Dawn FM was a more overtly conceptual endeavor, as the Jim Carrey narrations and recurring allusions to purgatory evidence. Of course, this is a Weeknd project, so it’s also packed with memorable showstoppers like “Take My Breath” and “Out Of Time.” All in all, Dawn FM sees The Weeknd yet again striking an ideal balance between pop hit-making and innovative artistry, but perhaps better here than he ever has before. – Derrick Rossignol

The Isle Of Wight duo were the very definition of lightning in a bottle this year. After “Chaise Longue” came out just as tours were finally getting back into full swing last year, the prospect of hearing a new band’s smash single then instantly seeing their upcoming tour dates became a reality again. Wet Leg helped us start to feel normal and, well, these songs ripped. They thrive in the tongue-in-cheek margins, with a punk panache to boot on so many bangers: “Wet Dream,” “Oh No,” and “Too Late Now.” The singles felt endless and the entire album is a thrill. – Adrian Spinelli

Alvvays remain very good at sounding like Alvvays. The formula on Blue Rev is simple but effective — reverb-heavy guitars that jangle and sprawl, a wiry bassline, sighing synths, a chorus that lifts out of the verse in a manner that can only be described as shyly grandiose, a vocal that sounds sampled from a long-lost radio hit from 1965, and (typically) one well-placed reference in the lyrics to pop culture ephemera. – Steven Hyden

It’s possible that there’s no current indie artist more consistent than Alex G. The 29-year-old has been churning out instant-classic records for over a decade, and they somehow keep getting better. 2019’s House Of Sugar was a hard masterpiece to follow up, but God Save The Animals turned that LP into an afterthought. Singles like “Blessing” and “Runner” previewed a perfect idiosyncrasy through random grunts or unexpected squawks, delicately balanced with intense feelings like nostalgia, longing, and contentment. He gives everything an effortless texture of profundity. – Danielle Chelosky

Rosalía has created her own lane in pop music that wasn’t bound to any language barriers. Having positioned herself as a global pop star, her 16-track LP experiments with genres from around the world like electronica, reggaeton, flamenco, and bolero. She revs into her new era with “Saoko”, a cyberpunk joyride with a jazz detour. Elsewhere, Rosalía reflects on the toxicity of fame in bachata-infused “La Fama” alongside The Weeknd. She also lets her hair down with the delectable “Chicken Teriyaki” and the bouncy “Bizcochito” that is reminiscent of a Nokia phone ringtone. On MOTOMAMI, Rosalía races into the future with her newfound sound. – Lucas Villa

Bad Bunny gave the world the soundtrack for the summer with his album Un Verano Sin Ti. The Puerto Rican superstar celebrates the music of the Caribbean throughout the 23-track LP, while returning to his reggaeton roots in club anthems like “Me Porto Bonito” alongside Chencho Corleone and “Party” with Rauw Alejandro. But he keeps fans on their toes when he takes the genre to new places with alternative acts like The Marías in “Otro Atardecer” and Bomba Estéreo in the dreamy “Ojitos Lindos,” and samples the sounds of the Dominican Republic in the merengue-infused “Después De La Playa” and the dembow-driven “Me Preguntó.” Bad Bunny continues to prove that his sound has no borders or limits. – Lucas Villa

Preacher’s Daughter blended the conceptual and concrete versions of Hayden Silas Anhedönia’s alter-ego Ethel Cain to create her debut album. As religious themes are woven throughout, she pulled inspiration from her real religious background growing up in the South. There are tales of longing on “A House In Nebraska” and a Bonnie-and-Clyde-esque couple heading for California on “Thoroughfare.” And, at the end of it all, the tension and trauma end in Cain’s destructive demise. Ending with the somber “Sun Bleached Flies,” she realizes that praying wouldn’t save her, chalking it up to “if it’s meant to be, then it will be.” – Lexi Lane

Pusha T began the year with the bold claim that he would undoubtedly have the rap album of the year by the end of 2022. It’s Almost Dry arrived to prove that he was not talking up a big game. A rarity in today’s streaming era, the concise 12 songs that made up Pusha’s latest body of work feature a blend of production from Kanye West and Pharrell. While the championed producers’ beats differ in style, one thing remains the same: Pusha’s never-ending yet exciting spool of coke bars, that he unwinds for his captivated audience from top to bottom on It’s Almost Dry. Now throw in a thrilling appearance from Jay-Z and a long-waited awaited Clipse reunion, among other things, and you have an album that is in great contention to receive the crown that Pusha seeks. – Wongo Okon

Taylor Swift came out swinging for her tenth studio album, Midnights. A collection of songs written about her self-described “sleepless nights,” she dazzles on tales of daydreams (“Paris”), nightmares (“You’re On Your Own, Kid”), and everything in between (“Mastermind,” “The Great War”). And it appears to stand as one of the most cohesive bodies of work in Swift’s discography. As fans have put it, there are truly no skips. Even “Karma” grows on you. – Lexi Lane

Next year is the ten-year anniversary of The 1975’s stunning debut album that put them on the map alongside other alt-heartthrob crews Arctic Monkeys and The Neighbourhood. While both of those Tumblr bands still thrive off of the hits from that era, The 1975 have managed to evolve continually and somehow get better each time. They’ve done it again with the sprawling Being Funny In A Foreign Language, which has as many wise-cracks as it does heartwrenching lines. “Part Of The Band” is unforgettable with its cutting comedy; “About You” is a masterpiece because of its immersive, poignant atmosphere and contagious sadness. – Danielle Chelosky

A few days before Ants From Up There was released in February, it was made clear the album represented the end of an era, when it was revealed that singer and guitarist Isaac Wood had decided to leave the group. It also sounded like the start of a new one, though: While 2021’s For The First Time was rock-solid post-punk fare, Ants From Up There was a noticeable and strongly executed palette expansion, which adds even more intrigue to the already-fascinating prospect of where the band goes from here. – Derrick Rossignol

Throughout the 2010s, the Austin indie fixtures Spoon delved into synth-heavy, danceable material. Albums like 2014’s They Want My Soul and 2017’s Hot Thoughts showed how Britt Daniel and co. could push past the “consistent” label they frequently get tagged with. However, that consistency has been a major draw for longtime fans. Spoon has yet to make a bad album, and their 10th, Lucifer On The Sofa, is unequivocal evidence of that. Featuring songs like the Jack Antonoff co-write “Wild,” the ZZ Top-indebted “The Hardest Cut,” and even a cover of Smog’s “Held,” the legacy indie band shows that they haven’t lost their luster. They don’t plan on losing it anytime soon. – Grant Sharples

Over the last couple of years, Vince Staples has been putting out flawless art. His fifth album, Ramona Park Broke My Heart, arrived in the spring of this year, for what some could reasonably argue is his best project to date. Unlike his earlier collections, the 16 songs on Ramona Park Broke My Heart use softer production as a soundtrack for Vince’s raps. Nonetheless, Vince’s lyrics and stories remain the same. His blunt tales pierce the ear and leave you in shock at the circumstances he was dealt with as a youth. Yet, there are moments of nonchalance and peace that signal better days on the horizon. Ramona Park Broke My Heart doesn’t reveal Vince’s disappointment with his hometown, but rather, it touches on all the things that altered him and his approach to the world. – Wongo Okon

Though the astronomical fame of “Bad Habit” is deserved — it’s a ridiculously groovy track — it’s a shame how much attention was stolen from Gemini Rights as a whole. The album is meant to be experienced in full, with the jittery atmosphere of “Helmet” following the quiet ambiance of “Static,” or the drama of “Cody Freestyle” prefacing the endearing piano-driven ballad “Amber.” Gemini Rights is a hypnotizing masterpiece from start to finish. – Danielle Chelosky

Whether or not you believe he’s the new king of pop, based solely on the historic records he holds, you can’t deny that Harry Styles is certainly leading the pack. If his debut solo album was a mere strike of luck, then Harry’s House proves Styles has a firm understanding of what he’s doing. In a cycle of microwaveable pop music, the intentionality of song selection on Harry’s House ensures a lasting shelf life. The 13-track project is light, airy, fun, and charismatic which makes for an easy listen every time. Mindful of his vocal range, on Harry’s House, Styles has found his octave pocket to which the listener is a benefactor. – Flisadam Pointer

The music media has fallen hard for this singer-songwriter’s lovable underdog story. Fortunately, Farm To Table justified the hype. As was the case with his 2020 debut Live Forever, Strange is a natural at mixing emo-pop dynamics with R&B vocal affectations and hip-hop-style production. On his second full-length, he doesn’t so much reinvent this formula as refine it to the point of silky perfection. This album is one of the best sounding records of 2022; you feel the velvety guitars, gooey synths, and supple beats as much as hear them. – Steven Hyden

If we didn’t know any better, we might’ve thought that The Smile’s A Light For Attracting Attention was maybe just the next spectacular Radiohead album? In actuality, the side project of Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood, along with Sons Of Kemet drummer Tom Skinner, stands on its own but locks into place like a missing puzzle piece of the Radiohead canon. Greenwood’s production feels almost haptic, beginning with the self-analytical/fairly paranoid “The Same” and continuing all the way through to an emphatic acoustic guitar on the long-lost Radiohead song “Skirting On The Surface.” Meanwhile, Skinner’s drums on the latter are reminiscent of Philip Selway’s, further adding to the glorious Radiohead/The Smile mind game. – Adrian Spinelli

On billy woods’ Aethiopes, New York’s current king of the underground unveils a dazzling masterclass through a series of hyper-stylized vignettes. Alongside producer Preservation — who handles the whole project — woods shows why he’s widely considered to be one of the best lyricists in rap. On “Sauvages,” which features Boldy James and Gabe ‘Nandez, he conjures up an unforgettable image: “Central American ubermensch in the bed of a pickup / Building prefab duplexes, human traffic like Department of Corrections.” Sure, it makes sense in the context of the song and the album’s themes, but every once in a while, billy woods likes to remind us that no one can create a world quite like he can. – Will Schube

For her latest album, and first in three years, Sudan Archives, born Brittney Parks, set out to do something new this time around. This change in direction produced Natural Brown Prom Queen. Truthfully, the 18-track project is another example of Sudan Archives going against the grain and doing things her way. Natural Brown Prom Queen focuses on a teenage girl named Britt, the album’s alter ego described as “the girl next door from Cincinnati who drives around the city with the top down.” Sudan Archives takes on the role of a naive, yet passionate teenager to cover themes about race, womanhood, and the loving relationships one has with their inner circle. It’s all done through atypical offerings of pop, R&B, and electronic that only further the true uniqueness and impressive artistry that lives within Natural Brown Prom Queen. – Wongo Okon

After a four-year hiatus from music, Chicago’s red-haired songstress, Ravyn Lenae, returned to drop Hypnos. The debut studio album is familiar, with Lenae’s signature high-pitched, breathy vocals reminiscent of Minne Riperton. Still, it positions the singer light years ahead of her previous efforts with futuristic production and burgeoning lyrical maturity, a la Brandy’s post-adolescent ‘Full Moon.’ The confidence present in the chorus of the Monte Booker-produced “Venmon” and lyrical depth of “Deep In The Word” properly reintroduce the artist and build upon Lenae’s moody sound initially found in her breakout tracks like 2018’s “Sticky.” Stick around for the album’s penultimate female-forward track, “Mercury,” for a taste of Lenae in fresh collaboration. The whisper tone and angsty lyrics on the track are assisted by alt-R&B breakout Fousheé, switching up from her typical collaborators to step into a new era. – Ellice Ellis

Fresh out of a deal with RCA, Muna kicked off their indie era by demonstrating a wide range of queer emotions on their self-titled third album. On their first release under the Phoebe Bridgers-helmed label, Saddest Factory, Muna embrace the second adolescence we as queer people go through, by way of intimidating crushes (“Silk Chiffon”), debauched nights out (“What I Want”), and questioning the right choice to make with a lover (“Home By Now”). On Muna, the trio both revel in and lament their newfound freedom. – Alex Gonzalez

If there’s one thing you can expect from songwriter Angel Olsen, it’s to expect the unexpected. Having already explored lonesome solo folk and classic rock-indebted indie, Big Time, finds the singer planting her roots firmly into country music. Just as the album’s title suggests, this is Olsen’s defining moment. Across the ten tracks, her hypnotic songwriting makes heartbreak seem like an aspirational task. Marinated in Americana, topped with sprinkles of jazz and orchestral compositions, Big Time is a dramatic showcase of instrumentation juxtaposed with Olsen’s bashful vocals. The core of any country project is storytelling, and on Big Time, Olsen knocks it out of the park. – Flisadam Pointer

Philly has in recent years become a hotbed for emo and punk music, and hardcore trio Soul Glo are the latest to emerge from the flourishing scene with their intoxicating album Diaspora Problems. The effort melds absurdist humor (the album opens with the sound of someone taking a bong rip) with frenetic chords and scream-y vocals thanks to lead singer Pierce Jordan’s impressive pipes. Tracks like the blown-out “Driponomics” and the enigmatic “Gold Chain Punk (Whogonbeatmyass?)” show off the band’s penchant for combing hardcore rock with off-kilter rap. – Carolyn Droke

Musically, the depth and breadth of sounds on this record outstrip what is normally heard in the indie-rock sphere. A relatively low-key cut like “Forbearance” might nod to The National’s recent electro-folk experiments, but so much of the album aims beyond that and straight for the moon. “The Man Himself” is especially rousing in this regard — the moment when spine-tingling choral vocals recorded in the Cook Islands are seamlessly infused with breakbeats and a surging 42-piece orchestra ranks with the most emotionally overpowering moments on any recent rock record. – Steven Hyden

Arguably one of the more underrated albums from this year, FKA Twigs followed up her critically-acclaimed Magdalene with the dreamy, astro-themed Caprisongs. (She is, in fact, a Capricorn.) The record boasts party-ready collaborations with The Weeknd on the apt “Tears In The Club” and Pa Salieu on “Honda.” Still, Twigs proves once again that she’s also perfectly capable of shining on her own, with equally-enticing tracks like “Meta Angel.” – Lexi Lane

Love is really a million little pieces of miscellaneous knowledge about another person, and when a relationship ends all of a sudden you’re left holding it all with nowhere to put it. That’s what the title of The Beths’ third album Expert In A Dying Field alludes to; as singer/songwriter Liz Stokes so incisively puts it in the title track, “I can close the door on us, but the room still exists.” Sometimes this is an album about the end of a relationship, sometimes about anticipating the end before it happens, and often about finally being brave enough to say the thing that needs to be said. The Beths are melodic geniuses, and these songs offer poppy singalong catharsis in spades. – Mia Hughes

This duo composed of Waxahatchee’s Katie Crutchfield and Jess Williamson is a continuation of the Lucinda Williams-esque alt-country vibe of Crutchfield’s excellent 2020 album Saint Cloud. Actually, it’s hardly “alt” at all — I Walked With You A Ways is full-on twang that would dominate Nashville in a better universe. Of course, the only downside to this album is that it delayed the release of another Waxahatchee record. But any vehicle for Crutchfield’s songs is worthy and welcome. – Steven Hyden

When MJ Lenderman isn’t shredding in the band Wednesday, he’s charming listeners with his own reverb-drenched solo project: “I bought fake Jordans / They weren’t even shoes,” he drawls on the rowdy “Hangover Game,” one of the most alluring album openers of the year. Boat Songs is full of wit and droning instrumentation that makes the listener feel like they’re standing next to the speaker at a local gig. “SUV” is the addictive highlight; the staticky guitars are invigorating, as his vaguely prophetic hook: “I still have the key.” – Danielle Chelosky

Drake did a number on 2022. Before dropping the year’s biggest collaborative tape, Her Loss, with fellow rap star 21 Savage, the Toronto-born artist shattered Apple Music numbers with his seventh studio effort, Honestly, Nevermind. The project became the platform’s most popular dance album of all time and proved Drake’s ability to extend his artistry to its furthest limits. With collaborators Black Coffee, Gordo (formerly Carnage) and long-time producer Noah “40 Shebib setting the sonic planks, the “Sticky” rapper floats over soothing piano keys and breezy, synth-soaked cuts that delve into the world of South African house and American club music. – Earl Hopkins

After a series of EPs, Nilüfer Yanya delivered the proper follow-up to her 2019 breakthrough, Miss Universe, and it’s an explosive expression of self-empowerment through actualization. What Yanya does especially well is packing emotions and epiphanies into tightly-wrapped shredders that are a helluva lot of fun to rock out to. She admits to being an inconsistent partner as she figures herself out on “The Dealer,” while her guitar floats alongside a spritely bass. “Midnight Sun” is an anthem for going against the grain that morphs through movements blissfully with Yanya never wavering from her insightful self. – Adrian Spinelli

The long-awaited third album from the Dreamville veteran proved to be worth the wait as he dove into autobiography (“Kody Blu 31,” “Crack Sandwich“) and bent his prodigious lyrical skills to broader social commentary (“Money,” “Lauder Too”). In the midst of his introspection, though, he still found time to prove that he is one of the best rappers out today on tracks like “Surround Sound,” where he defied convention and pinned his pride to his pen, rapping like the rent was due and he wanted to get paid up until the next election cycle. – Aaron Williams

One of the best (and most unsung) indie bands of this young decade was in danger of becoming almost too consistent. Last year’s A Billion Little Lights capped Wild Pink’s early trilogy of records, in which singer-songwriter John Ross applied his obsession with boomer-era rockers (Springsteen, Petty, Browne) to a post-Lost In The Dream, emo-tinged heartland rock template. Jolted by a cancer diagnosis, Ross was moved to change course on a record that sounds simultaneously more epic and more introspective. ILYSM inevitably comes across like an attempt to process life-changing news, with Ross shellshocked voice numbly contemplating mortality over deconstructed soundscapes that unexpectedly shift between noisy squalls and spooky quiet. The album’s arc — like life — is gut-wrenching but ultimately rewarding. – Steven Hyden

It’s been three years since Weyes Blood released 2019’s psych-folk stunner Titanic Rising. But Natalie Mering pretty much picks up where that album left off on And In The Darkness, Hearts Aglow, which once again spotlights her flair for beautiful soft-rock melodies that complement a serrated lyric edge. Never before have songs that portend certain doom for mankind sounded so sweet and catchy. – Steven Hyden

Born out of lockdown disconnection, The Loneliest Time is more of an intimate album from Carly Rae Jepsen than fans have come to expect. It’s firmly entrenched in her glistening brand of relatable pop, but this 2022 release also finds Carly Rae more subdued and reflective, dancing in the moonlight rather than at noon. Crafted in a headspace of the era of corona and some personal losses, this is an intimate showing of Jepsen’s emotions and life, reveling in straightforward, hyper-realistic lyricism (anyone who has ever used a dating app will relate all too well with “Beach House”). Still, synth and disco moments prevail, most notably on the “should I, shouldn’t I?” regret-lite, Rufus Wainwright-featuring title track. It’s an album that is contemplative and full of dramatic extravagance, and also so typically Jepsen in its ability to make her experiences universal. It might be the reflections of one person’s Loneliest Time, but we’re all together even when listening to it alone. – Tamar Herman

The title, artwork, and even Jeff Tweedy’s statement in advance of Wilco’s fantastic twelfth studio album proved to be a minor bait and switch: There’s maybe 20 percent more twang on Cruel Country than your average Wilco set. But the cruel country here isn’t just lap steel and a looser, recorded-live sound, it’s in Tweedy’s subtle ruminations on the nation’s troubling right turn: “There is no middle when the other side / would rather kill than compromise,” he sings on the melancholy, gorgeous “Hints.” But worry not: Cruel Country isn’t all quiet contemplation. Over 21 tracks, the spectacularly tight band — playing essentially live from The Loft, their Chicago homebase — jogs from Beatlesque pop (“Story To Tell”) to pure Tweedy sweetness (“Tired Of Taking It Out On You”) to an epically subdued jam (“Many Worlds”). – Josh Modell

Miranda Lambert has been one of the most consistent artists of the past 15 years. Every album that country music’s resident rule-obliterator releases feels like a dense chapter in an ever-expanding oeuvre that champions the kaleidoscopic nature of the human condition. Palomino, the star’s ninth studio album, takes Lambert on a musical road trip, where surefire radio singles like “Strange” pair beautifully with the album’s emotional apexes such as “Wandering Spirit” and “Carousel.” A great album from Miranda Lambert is practically a guarantee these days, but that doesn’t mean Palomino doesn’t deserve to have its praises sung from Nashville to North Hollywood. – Kyle Denis

After spending a decade of his career at the forefront of the thrash rap movement (and mixing in a little traditionalist boom-bap), the Florida mainstay spreads his wings on his latest effort. In addition to dabbling in drum and bass on “Zatoichi,” Denzel advocates for going to therapy, and expresses his desire for a Star Wars starfighter over a new whip. The standout is “Walkin,” a motivational track that encourages perseverance through any manner of adversity. – Aaron Williams

“I’m about to crash into the water / Gonna take you with me,” Charli XCX declares on the opening lines of Crash’s title track. The hyper-pop star follows through on her promise, with her highest-charting and most headline-making era to date. By leaning heavily into an “I don’t care” persona on songs like “Yuck” and including brilliant collaborations with Rina Sawayama, Christine And The Queens, and Caroline Polacheck, the album consists of nothing less than pure hits. – Lexi Lane

“Spitting Off the Edge Of The World,” the opening track from Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ first album in nine years, may just be the most profoundly epic song of the year. Following the misstep of Mosquito, the seminal indie-rock trio returned alongside Perfume Genius’ Mike Hadreas, excoriating the powerful (“Cowards, here’s the sun”) and uplifting everyone else (“Winds from the sky will watch us rise”). Despite Cool It Down’s brief, half-hour runtime, the group wields these eight songs with galactic panache. From the anthemic synth hook of “Wolf” to the delightfully meta “yeah yeah yeahs” of “Fleez,” Karen O., Nick Zinner, and Brian Chase refuse to cool down. – Grant Sharples

Following up his fan-favorite 2018 project Care For Me, the Chicago rapper traded in the melancholy vibes of his prior album for a more optimistic approach on his latest. That isn’t to say that Few Good Things doesn’t have weighty topics on its mind; made in the wake of tragedies both global (a pandemic) and personal (the death of Pivot Gang’s DJ Squeak), Few Good Things finds Saba doing a fair share of soul-searching again. This time, though, he comes up with an answer for the angst: Holding onto family, friends, and cherished memories to anchor him through the storm. – Aaron Williams

The worlds of Roc Marciano and The Alchemist were bound to collide and The Elephant Man’s Bones is one of the best rap albums of the year because they leaned into the fan service. It’s the darkest, most desolate-sounding Roc Marci album from his catalogue. His gritty crime raps are a natural fit for The Alchemist who utilizes samples perfect for a rainy day to create a melancholy atmosphere. Nothing is overused or too out of the ordinary, keeping in tune with The Alchemist’s recent work with Boldy James and Armand Hammer. The fun part about the album is you get to dissect Roc Marci’s bars over and over, catching something new every time you hit play. – Eric Diep

Chat Pile’s Raygun Busch (a pseudonym) has a bellowing growl that the Greek Gods must have sounded like. It’s thunderous, powerful, and extremely persuasive. Of course, the comparison ends there because Zeus was a classist and Chat Pile’s God’s Country is a triumphant and rageful plea for working and marginalized people everywhere. The ideas on the album are deceptively simple, but smack you across the face when contextualized against the band’s blunt, sludge-inspired instrumentals. On “Why,” Busch asks: “Why do people have to live outside/ In the brutal heat or when it’s below freezing? / There are people that are made to live outside/ Why?” It’s a damn good question. – Will Schube

Dream-pop duo Beach House drift into a rhapsodic abyss on their eighth album, Once Twice Melody. Conceptual in four-act structure, the LP’s wanderlust arrangements complement Victoria Legrand’s gentle serenading. The titular opener sees her basking in the honeyed orb of daylight with bandmate Alex Scally, softly cooing the infectious “once, twice, mel-o-dy” refrain over gleaming strings. Over 18 songs, Once Twice Melody coasts on with ‘80s synths soundtracking nostalgic love (“New Romance”) and lullabied references to creation (“Sunset”). It’s as if Beach House couldn’t help but fall deep into sentimentality on their most blissful effort yet. – Jaelani Turner-Williams

Mitski chronicles a profound discomfort with acclaim on the fittingly titled Laurel Hell. No one writes a song of abjection like Mitski, but this time around, one gets the distinct impression that the biggest bully in her life is her audience. Being loved means being drowned out; staying soft means getting eaten. Even her simplest requests aren’t respected. Over a swirl of ’80s pastiche and wry pop melody, Mitski makes clear an astounding, awful truth: You, the listener, are the knife for whom she’s working. – Peyton Thomas

Though her lovely career began as a leading light of a mostly forgotten genre, folktronica, Beth Orton has wandered far afield since. Her woozy, brilliant eighth album, Weather Alive, doesn’t spend much time on either side of the folk/electronica equation, instead coming to life with jazzy, sometimes improvised-sounding mood pieces. She’s bolstered by a band — including The Smile’s Tom Skinner on drums and saxophonist Alabster dePlume — that knows when to let Orton’s unmistakable, forcefully vulnerable voice take center stage (which happens to be almost always). Though they’re separated by half a century, Weather Alive is a spiritual heir to Van Morrison’s monumental Astral Weeks; we’ll be unpacking and finding new pleasures in both for a long time. – Josh Modell

Florence Shaw proves the validity of the old cliché about talking softly to make people lean in. What I wasn’t sure about after last year’s New Long Leg was whether this U.K. band could ever make an album that didn’t just repeat the same aesthetic with diminishing returns. But their latest record proves that those concerns were unfounded. Whereas New Long Leg was a loud post-punk record, Stumpwork is softer and more melodic in a classic indie kind of way. (It sounds more American.) I wonder if, moving forward, Dry Cleaning will set about creating different sonic landscapes as backdrops for Shaw’s musings. Maybe the next album will be Shaw talking over trip-hop or honky tonk or coffeeshop folk. – Steven Hyden

Cate Le Bon finds light in the darkness. Although we tend to fear darkness and its myriad unknowns, “the night in which distinctions and definitions cannot be readily made is the same night in which love is made, in which things merge, change, become enchanted, aroused, impregnated, possessed, released, renewed.” That particular passage from a Rebecca Solnit essay on Virginia Woolf resonates with Le Bon. As she mentions in an interview from earlier this year, it’s a type of ambiguity she embraces on her sixth solo album, Pompeii. Named after the city infamously destroyed by Mount Vesuvius, Pompeii implies that sense of renewal Solnit references. “Raise a glass in a season of ash, and pour it over me,” Le Bon sings in the closer, “Wheel.” Ashes may signify decay, but the Welsh musician shows us how it also leads to rebirth. – Grant Sharples