Rolling Stone's Best Albums of 2022 So Far

Paris-born Nigerian musician Aṣa’s fifth album comprises a refreshing blend of pop, Afrobeats, neo-soul, and R&B. This colorful meeting of genres, styles, and generations pairs the singer-songwriter’s signature smoky vocals with breezy explorations of love. “*V* is about happiness, love, friendship, and lots of joy,” she tells Apple Music. “It’s fresh and modern, but it’s also something you’re familiar with. I’m simply expressing being with the flow of things.” That sense of flow is influenced by a feeling of freedom and her locale. “Writing these songs at home meant the soil, air, food, and sun all made contributions to the creation of this album,” she says. “The album was written entirely in front of water and that definitely contributed greatly to the songs because I was so calm. That solitude I love is something you’ll hear a lot on *V*.” While the global pandemic may be synonymous with isolation, Aṣa’s canceled tour resulted in serendipitous features with Afrobeats doyen Wizkid (“IDG”), alté maven Amaarae (“All I Ever Wanted”), and contemporary highlife outfit The Cavemen. (“Good Times”). “This album seemed to have a life of its own. A lot of the music was made out of the box, which I’m not used to doing,” she says. It was also helmed by 19-year-old producer P.Priime. “He has a wide range, and so his worlds and my worlds are coming together.” Here, Aṣa breaks down *V*, track by track. **“Mayana”** “‘Mayana’ is really inspired by the music. Priime and I were working that day, and when I heard the music he was playing, the first thing that came to mind was ‘Nothing but our love.’ It’s an imaginary story, but I know what it feels like when you’re on an island and just want to be with the person you love. It just transported me to a world where love is taboo. People would rather go somewhere where they can be alone without hearing whispers or people talking. So, it’s like, ‘Don’t worry about what people say…we will survive.’” **“Ocean”** “WurlD cowrote this song with me and he also did the background vocals. It’s very hard to write in a windowless room. I remember, on *Lucid*, I wrote ‘Torn’ in a room full of windows. I was actually just belting it out in front of a window, and when I went to the studio to re-record it, I couldn’t, because it wasn’t the same feeling. I wrote most of these songs at dawn: 4 am is a very important hour for me because I’m more active, creative, and have more energy. I may never sing ‘Ocean’ or any of these songs the same way ever again, because where I was sitting was very different and what I was feeling was very different.” **“IDG” (feat. Wizkid)** “This is a fun song, which is saying, ‘We are different. What I love, you may hate, but you should give everyone a chance.’ I wanna find my home and I don’t wanna go where there’s bad vibes. I use Caribe and Soweto to further explain that you don’t have to go too far. You don’t have to try too hard—just find where there’s love and stay. Wizkid was the perfect voice for this song because of his tone and \[the fact that\] he’s such a great melody-maker. We had struck a friendship when we met in Ghana. We had something organic, so I thought, ‘Why not?’ I love that he brought something magical to the song.” **“Nike”** “A lot of these songs are based on writing alone at dawn. I wanted to express emotion. I wanted quiet. ‘Nike’ is that song wanting the listener to feel all of these emotions and, perhaps, physically touch the textures I’m trying to create. When you’ve been in a relationship and someone’s shown you the world, no one else is as good! But unfortunately, it didn’t work out and that’s what the song is about: ‘I’ve met you, you’re amazing, and this is what I want in this person. So, it’s gonna be hard to love someone else ’cause I’m always gonna be looking at that person through these rose-tinted glasses you created.’” **“Show Me Off”** “‘Show Me Off’ has a simple, easy, and relaxed highlife-y sound. Again, it’s about celebrating life and love. It’s a feel-good wedding song. You’re thinking about this person you love and even after you’ve just had a fight, it’s just, ‘Despite whatever, this is the person I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.’” **“Morning Man”** “*V* is hugely based on my environment. I wrote most of these songs outside and was around nature; water, trees, and animals is all I could hear. This song is very much influenced by the location and its sounds. I was literally looking at the sun in the morning while writing. ‘What does this sun do to me?’ So, I put a story to it. Love is usually what I write about. I love love and never tire of it. I’m wishful, loyal, and I’m a hopeless lover. I could never have written this story if I hadn’t experienced it.” **“Good Times” \[Aṣa & The Cavemen.\]** “There’s just something acoustic that somehow brings me to Southern Africa here. When I was writing this one, I was thinking about Paul Simon and Ladysmith Black Mambazo. There’s this video of them onstage in front of thousands of people—they had this sweet guitar riff starting the song, and this always takes me there. That’s what it’s like working with The Cavemen.; they look back to give us authentic highlife today. This was one of the easiest songs because it’s about remembering a good friend. With me and The Cavemen., it’s not just featuring each other: We come together, eat, and goof around. It’s something magical, and that was the experience writing ‘Good Times.’” **“Believer”** “I’m a perfectionist and it’s a little bit to a fault. With ‘Believer,’ I didn’t think too much; I was on automatic, just writing and singing—wanting to test how far Aṣa can go sonically. It’s 100 percent about a test of our love too. I played with the word ‘believer,’ and I think what I’m trying to say is, ‘I’ve been screaming without opening my mouth, but I’m faithful and I’m loyal.’ Yes, on ‘Nike’ I was hurt, but it wouldn’t stop me from loving again, and I’ll go with you for a long time.” **“All I Ever Wanted” (feat. Amaarae)** “I think with ‘All I Ever Wanted,’ I went into Amaarae’s world. I started this song with her in mind—writing the song for her. The song starts with my voice sounding very soft and wispy, and I was imitating her. ‘I wrote the song wanting to give it to her, so it’s definitely not my song. I’m not gonna sing this song and it’s definitely not gonna go on any Aṣa album’—that’s me overthinking! I told her about the song when we spoke for the first time, and she told me we should do it together. I really do like hearing someone’s voice other than mine on these records.” **“Love Me or Give Me Red Wine”** “This song takes me somewhere, perhaps to a past relationship. ‘Love me or just let me drink my wine.’ You’ll hear a few whimsical words, and that’s me drinking red wine with not a care in the world. The sound plays a huge role in the creation of the song; it just keeps going up, up, up, and all you can do is follow it and have fun. I was brought up in a patriarchal society, and I think right now it’s more about asserting yourself and not being the person \[who’s\] trained to walk behind. I’m not opposed to love and I’m not going to say no to it, ’cause it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world, but I’m not going to take the backseat. It’s about the power of feminine beauty…coming into oneself and saying, ‘I’m beautiful, independent, and love myself, so I don’t need anyone else’s validation.’”

When Angel Olsen came to craft her sixth album, *Big Time*, the US singer-songwriter had been through, well, a big time. In 2021—just three days after she came out to her parents—her father died; soon after, she lost her mother. Amid it all (and, of course, with the global pandemic as a backdrop), Olsen was falling deep for someone new. *Big Time*, then, is an album that explores the light of new love alongside the dark devastation of loss and grief. Understandably, Olsen—who started work on *Big Time* just three weeks after her mother’s funeral—questioned whether she could make it at all. “It was a heavy time in my life,” she tells Apple Music. “It was the first time I walked into a studio and I had the option of canceling, because of some of the stuff that was going on. But I told my manager, ‘I just wanna try it.’” Working with producer Jonathan Wilson (Father John Misty, Conor Oberst) in a studio in Topanga Canyon, Olsen kept her expectations low and the brief loose. “Essentially, what I told everyone was, ‘I don’t need to turn a pedal steel on its head here, I just want to hear a classic,’” she says. “What would the Neil Young backing band do if they reined it in a little and put the vocals as the main instrument? If you overthink things, you’re really going down into a hole.” The starting point was “All the Good Times,” a song Olsen wrote on tour in 2017/18, and which she envisaged giving to a country singer like Sturgill Simpson. But it had planted a seed. On *Big Time*, she goes all in on country and Americana, inspired by her cherished hometown of Asheville, North Carolina, as well as by artists including Lucinda Williams, Big Star, and Dolly Parton. That sound reaches its peak on the title track, a woozy, waltzing love song that nods to the brighter side of this album’s title: “I’m loving you big time, I’m loving you more,” Olsen sings to her partner Beau Thibodeaux, with whom she wrote the song. In its embrace of simplicity, *Big Time* feels like a deep exhale—and a stark contrast to 2019’s glossy, high-drama *All Mirrors* (though you will find shades of that here, such as on the string- and piano-laden “Through the Fires” or closer “Chasing the Sun”). That undone palette also lays Olsen’s lyrics bare. And if you’ve ever been shattered by the singer-songwriter’s piercing lyricism, you may want to steel yourself. Here, Olsen’s words are more affecting, honest, and raw than ever before, as she navigates not just love and loss but also self-acceptance (“I need to be myself/I won\'t live another lie,” she sings on “Right Now”), our changed world post-pandemic (“Go Home”), and moving forward after the worst has happened. And on the album’s exquisite final track, “Chasing the Sun,” Olsen allows herself to do just that, however tentatively. “Everyone’s wondered where I’ve gone,” she sings. “Having too much fun… Spending the day/Driving away the blues.”

Fresh grief, like fresh love, has a way of sharpening our vision and bringing on painful clarifications. No matter how temporary we know these states to be, the vulnerability and transformation they demand can overpower the strongest among us. Then there are the rare, fertile moments when both occur, when mourning and limerence heighten, complicate and explain each other; the songs that comprise Angel Olsen’s Big Time were forged in such a whiplash. Big Time is an album about the expansive power of new love, but this brightness and optimism is tempered by a profound and layered sense of loss. During Olsen’s process of coming to terms with her queerness and confronting the traumas that had been keeping her from fully accepting herself, she felt it was time to come out to her parents, a hurdle she’d been avoiding for some time. “Finally, at the ripe age of 34, I was free to be me,” she said. Three days later, her father died and shortly after her mother passed away. The shards of this grief—the shortening of her chance to finally be seen more fully by her parents—are scattered throughout the album. Three weeks after her mother’s funeral she was on a plane to Los Angeles to spend a month in Topanga Canyon, recording this incredibly wise and tender new album. Loss has long been a subject of Olsen’s elegiac songs, but few can write elegies with quite the reckless energy as she. If that bursting-at-the-seams, running downhill energy has come to seem intractable to her work, this album proves Olsen is now writing from a more rooted place of clarity. She’s working with an elastic, expansive mastery of her voice—both sonically and artistically. These are songs not just about transformational mourning, but of finding freedom and joy in the privations as they come.

Anitta has long straddled various genres—and languages—as she sees fit. Yet with *Versions of Me*, the trilingual Brazilian star presents the clearest display of her talent and appeal, often accompanied by a multinational array of guests, from Afro B to Cardi B. Following the reggaetón one-two punch of “Envolver” and the Chencho Corleone-assisted “Gata,” she switches things up with the propulsive pop of “I’d Rather Have Sex” and collaborates with R&B hooksmith Ty Dolla $ign on the clever interpolation “Gimme Your Number.” She playfully recontextualizes a classic on the trap-informed “Girl From Rio” while repping her home country further on the dynamic “Que Rabão.” From the retro electro rock of “Boys Don’t Cry” to the tantalizing polyrhythmic Khalid team-up “Ur Baby,” her self-described versions won’t disappoint the fans.

In 2002, Avril Lavigne released *Let Go*, her first LP and the best-selling album of the 21st century by a Canadian artist. She was 17, angsty, with an undeniable ear for hook, melody, and articulating adolescent rage in a way that made her equal parts adored and a punk pariah. Now, on her seventh studio album, *Love Sux*, Lavigne has shown that those frustrations never really go away, so you might as well have some fun writing about them in the process. Produced by Warped Tour veteran John “Feldy” Feldmann and her new beau, MOD SUN, *Love Sux* boasts pure pop-punk anthems through and through in “Kiss Me Like the World Is Ending,” “Bois Lie” featuring Machine Gun Kelly, and “Bite Me,” where her soaring lyric soprano reaches new heights on her characteristic “aye-yuh” notes. Elsewhere, shades of her past eras flourish: The cheerleading cadence of “Cannonball” recalls “Girlfriend”; “F.U.” is a continuation of “What the Hell.” Bolstered by a series of collaborations and blink-182\'s Travis Barker on the drums, Lavigne ventures into new territory, too, like in the buzzy synths of “Avalanche” or the rap-punk of “Love It When You Hate Me” featuring blackbear.

“I like to prepare myself and prepare the surroundings to work my music,” Bad Bunny tells Apple Music about his process. “But when I get a good idea that I want to work on in the future, I hold it until that moment.” After he blessed his fans with three projects in 2020, including the forward-thinking fusion effort *EL ÚLTIMO TOUR DEL MUNDO*, one could forgive the Latin superstar for taking some time to plan his next moves, musically or otherwise. Somewhere between living out his kayfabe dreams in the WWE and launching his acting career opposite the likes of Brad Pitt, El Conejo Malo found himself on the beach, sipping Moscow Mules and working on his most diverse full-length yet. And though its title and the cover’s emoting heart mascot might suggest a shift into sad-boy mode, *Un Verano Sin Ti* instead reveals a different conceptual aim as his ultimate summer playlist. “It\'s a good vibe,” he says. “I think it\'s the happiest album of my career.” Recorded in Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic, the album features several cuts in the same elevated reggaetón mode that largely defined *YHLQMDLG*. “Efecto” and “Un Ratito” present ideal perreo opportunities, as does the soon-to-be-ubiquitous Rauw Alejandro team-up “Party.” Yet, true to its sunny origins, *Un Verano Sin Ti* departs from this style for unexpected diversions into other Latin sounds, including the bossa nova blend “Yo No Soy Celoso” and the dembow hybrid “Tití Me Preguntó.” He embraces his Santo Domingo surroundings with “Después De La Playa,” an energizing mambo surprise. “We had a whole band of amazing musicians,” he says about making the track with performers who\'d typically play on the streets. “It\'s part of my culture. It\'s part of the Caribbean culture.” With further collaborations from familiars Chencho Corleone and Jhayco, as well as unanticipated picks Bomba Estéreo and The Marías, *Un Verano Sin Ti* embodies a wide range of Latin American talent, with Bad Bunny as its charismatic center.

Whether making hits in English or Spanish, Becky G. has been at the fore of global pop for the better part of a decade now. The rapid and undeniable success of her 2022 single “MAMIII” with KAROL G set the stage for the Mexican American star to return with her second studio album. Coming more than two years after *MALA SANTA*, a noteworthy record that aligned her with several other Latin hitmakers, *ESQUEMAS* allows fans to bear witness to the growth of her artistry. Compared with its predecessor, the quantity of features is fairly limited here, though the femme-forward Natti Natasha team-up “RAM PAM PAM” and the Dominican-dembow-infused “FULANITO” with El Alfa leave strong impressions. But even without the aid of flashy and fashionable guests, she proves repeatedly that she is a musical force to be reckoned with. There is both diversity and complexity in her craft, evident in the dawn confessional “BAILÉ CON MI EX” and the playfully nostalgic “FLASHBACK” as well as her select reggaetón permutations, such as “GUAPA” and “KILL BILL.”

Like its title suggests, *Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You* continues Big Thief’s shift away from their tense, early music toward something folkier and more cosmically inviting. They’ve always had an interest in Americana, but their touchpoints are warmer now: A sweetly sawing fiddle (“Spud Infinity”), a front-porch lullaby (“Dried Roses”), the wonder of a walk in the woods (“Promise Is a Pendulum”) or comfort of a kitchen where the radio’s on and food sizzles in the pan (“Red Moon”). Adrianne Lenker’s voice still conveys a natural reticence—she doesn’t want to believe it’s all as beautiful as it is—but she’s also too earnest to deny beauty when she sees it.

Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You is a sprawling double-LP exploring the deepest elements and possibilities of Big Thief. To truly dig into all that the music of Adrianne Lenker, Max Oleartchik, Buck Meek, and James Krivchenia desired in 2020, the band decided to write and record a rambling account of growth as individuals, musicians, and chosen family over 4 distinct recording sessions. In Upstate New York, Topanga Canyon, The Rocky Mountains, and Tucson, Arizona, Big Thief spent 5 months in creation and came out with 45 completed songs. The most resonant of this material was edited down into the 20 tracks that make up DNWMIBIY, a fluid and adventurous listen. The album was produced by drummer James Krivchenia who initially pitched the recording concept for DNWMIBIY back in late 2019 with the goal of encapsulating the many different aspects of Adrianne’s songwriting and the band onto a single record. In an attempt to ease back into life as Big Thief after a long stretch of Covid-19 related isolation, the band met up for their first session in the woods of upstate New York. They started the process at Sam Evian’s Flying Cloud Recordings, recording on an 8-track tape machine with Evian at the knobs. It took a while for the band to realign and for the first week of working in the studio, nothing felt right. After a few un-inspired takes the band decided to take an ice-cold dip in the creek behind the house before running back to record in wet swimsuits. That cool water blessing stayed with Big Thief through the rest of the summer and many more intuitive, recording rituals followed. It was here that the band procured ‘Certainty’ and ‘Sparrow’. For the next session in Topanga Canyon, California, the band intended to explore their bombastic desires and lay down some sonic revelry in the experimental soundscape-friendly hands of engineer Shawn Everett. Several of the songs from this session lyrically explore the areas of Lenker’s thought process that she describes as “unabashedly as psychedelic as I naturally think,” including ‘Little Things’, which came out of this session. The prepared acoustic guitars and huge stomp beat of today’s ‘Time Escaping’ create a matching, otherworldly backdrop for the subconscious dream of timeless, infinite mystery. When her puppy Oso ran into the vocal booth during the final take of the song, Adrianne looked down and spoke “It’s Music!” to explain in the best terms possible the reality of what was going on to the confused dog. “It’s Music Oso!” The third session, high in the Colorado Rockies, was set up to be a more traditional Big Thief recording experience, working with UFOF and Two Hands engineer Dom Monks. Monks' attentiveness to song energies and reverence for the first take has become a huge part of the magic of Thief’s recent output. One afternoon in the castle-like studio, the band was running through a brand new song ‘Change’ for the first time. Right when they thought it might be time to do a take, Monks came out of the booth to let them know that he’d captured the practice and it was perfect as it was.   The final session, in hot-as-heaven Tucson, Arizona, took place in the home studio of Scott McMicken. The several months of recording had caught up to Big Thief at this point so, in order to bring in some new energy, they invited long-time friend Mat Davidson of Twain to join. This was the first time that Big Thief had ever brought in a 5th instrumentalist for such a significant contribution. His fiddle, and vocals weave a heavy presence throughout the Tucson tracks. If the album's main through-line is its free-play, anything-is-possible energy, then this environment was the perfect spot to conclude its creation — filling the messy living room with laughter, letting the fire blaze in the backyard, and ripping spontaneous, extended jams as trains whistled outside.  All 4 of these sessions, in their varied states of fidelity, style, and mood, when viewed together as one album seem to stand for a more honest, zoomed-out picture of lived experience than would be possible on a traditional, 12 song record. This was exactly what the band hoped would be the outcome of this kind of massive experiment. When Max’s mom asked on a phone call what it feels like to be back together with the band playing music for the first time in a year, he described to the best of abilities: “Well it’s like, we’re a band, we talk, we have different dynamics, we do the breaths, and then we go on stage and suddenly it feels like we are now on a dragon. And we can’t really talk because we have to steer this dragon.”  The attempt to capture something deeper, wider, and full of mystery, points to the inherent spirit of Big Thief. Traces of this open-hearted, non-dogmatic faith can be felt through previous albums, but here on Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You lives the strongest testament to its existence. 

A lot can happen in a decade. When BTS debuted under Big Hit Entertainment in 2013, there was no telling that the K-pop septet would become the biggest boy band on the planet, demolishing chart records and any insecurity that the world wouldn’t accept a group that didn’t perform in English. In those early days, the Bangtan Boys made self-empowered trap-pop, using their debut single album *2 COOL 4 SKOOL* as an opportunity to articulate youthful injustices and societal pressures. Then came 2014’s *DARK&WILD*, their debut LP, a softer approach to their hard-hitting hip-hop; 2016’s *Wings*, which was inspired by the 1919 Jungian novel *Demian* by Hermann Hesse (seriously); and the *Love Yourself* series, birthing the global smash “MIC Drop.” They never slowed down. They toured the world. They challenged the confines of genre. They released their *MAP OF THE SOUL* series. They held off releasing an English-language song until seven years into their career, when they were already on top, redefining the way the world views crossover artists. They never lost sight of their fans, called ARMY, or their message: that they wanted to be a respite for the world-weary, that they wanted their listeners to love themselves. They became undeniable. Now, in 2022, there’s *Proof*—BTS’s first anthology album, an eclectic collection of the world’s biggest band’s greatest hits, released while they’re still on top of the industry. It’s an anthology of the group’s most impressive work, sorted both chronologically and according to each member’s personal favorites—the most immediate way to travel through their evolution and take stock of their impact. And there are three new songs: the optimistic “Yet to Come”; a continuation of “Epilogue: Young Forever,” called “For Youth”; and “Run BTS,” a reference to their variety show and a deep celebration of their dedicated ARMY. Below, each member of BTS breaks down the tracks they personally selected as favorites for the collection, exclusively to Apple Music. **“Intro : Persona”** RM: “‘Intro : Persona’ is based on the question ‘Who am I?’ It is one of the questions that I often ask myself, in an effort to figure out which one is closest to the true self. Whether as RM of BTS, as a friend or a family member, or simply as Kim Namjoon, it’s not just one but all the personas define who I truly am. That’s why I chose the song for the album.” **“Moon”** Jin: “‘Moon’ has a special place in my heart because the song speaks for our relationship with our ARMY. The song likens ARMY to the sight of the Earth as seen from the perspective of the moon. ARMY is inseparable from BTS as they were there for us every moment. ARMY, love you to the moon and back!” **“No More Dream”** SUGA: “‘No More Dream’ is a meaningful song to BTS because it’s the debut track. It represents the essence of BTS from the beginning. Also, the lyrics sing the message that only those at that age can speak about, so it makes me reminisce about the time and reflect on how much we’ve grown as artists and as a team.” **“ON”** j-hope: “‘ON’ really shows the pinnacle of BTS’s growth as artists. The lyrics talk about growing pains, getting through turbulent times, and finally finding a balance. The song motivates me to push myself forward for another dream or bigger challenge.” **“Friends”** Jimin: “‘Friends’ is about friendship with those who always stand by my side and keep me in balance. Without our BTS members, ‘Jimin’ wouldn’t have existed. Without ARMY, BTS wouldn’t have been the same as who we are now. It is a gratitude to our friends who made everything possible.” **“Singularity”** V: “‘Singularity’ sings about the agony of choosing between two personas as artist V and human being Kim Taehyung. Going through it was hard, but overcoming the confusing times and finally accepting both sides of myself really built who I am today.” **“Dynamite”** Jung Kook: “‘Dynamite’ was like a present to us when we were going through difficult times emotionally and physically after the pandemic started. It gave us another beginning and opportunity to jump higher after a short step back.”

Camila Cabello’s solo career continues to be one of modern pop’s most worthwhile musical journeys. Where 2019’s *Romance* stepped back from the Caribbean vibes of her smash hit “Havana,” *Familia* shifts decidedly closer to her Cuban American roots and culture. Indeed, the first time we hear her voice here is on the subversively playful “Celia,” sung entirely in Spanish. Far from some staid Latin crossover, the rest of the project jumps between languages and genres as she sees fit, earnest and revealing on “psychofreak” with WILLOW and just crazy in love on “Hasta Los Dientes” with Maria Becerra in her corner. She goes back and forth with Ed Sheeran over the salsa sway of “Bam Bam” and revels in the expansive rhythms of “Don’t Go Yet” on her own.

When Melbourne indie rock trio Camp Cope first emerged on the alt-rock scene with their self-titled debut LP, guitarist/vocalist Georgia Maq, bassist Kelly-Dawn Hellmrich, and drummer Sarah Thompson were celebrated for taking down the inherent misogyny in the independent music scene. (“The Opener” from 2018’s *How to Socialise and Make Friends* tackled the subject directly and memorably.) Now on their third LP, the band has ventured into folkier territory: The midtempo “Blue” is a depressed confessional supported by ascendent, Chicks-style pop harmonies, while “Jealous” mirrors the oppressive sentimentality that follows a breakup, with Maq’s voice feeling out all the contours of her fractured refrain, a weeping “Oh, no.” The title track, “Running With the Hurricane,” is a fierce surprise: a bluesy, emo-adjacent shout-along single stuffed to the brim with the oppressive rush of a crush: “I get so bored thinking about anyone else!” Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like it.

This album was made entirely on Wurundjeri & Boonwurrung country, which we are grateful to live and work upon, we pay our respects to elders past & present.

“Right now, I’m still very much restless,” Charli XCX tells Apple Music. “Because I know that I would be an excellent humongous pop star. But I also unfortunately know that there’s a vision of who I am in the mainstream’s mind. It’s a constant headfuck, to be honest. While I’m a very defiant person, I’m also a human, and sometimes I do just want to be accepted, and I don’t understand why I’m not totally—even though sometimes I relish in the fact that I’m not.” Charlotte Aitchison is one of pop music’s more self-aware, self-deprecating, and self-examining artists. *CRASH* is her fifth studio album, and the final one to be released as part of a longtime record deal. It’s partly, as Charli says, an experiment. An opportunity to utilize a major label’s resources and dress up her left-leaning pop in something ultra luxe. A bold and refreshingly transparent attempt to move up a few rungs, it’s a considered move also designed to clear up some of Charli’s nagging what-ifs. “I’ve always questioned myself,” she says. “And it’s why I’ve made this entire album, really. I ask myself, am I a likable artist? Am I too opinionated? Do I look too weird? Am I too annoying? If I shut up and put out certain songs and do the right features, will I become more accepted, more liked, more commercial?” Of course, Charli’s notoriously engaged fanbase—with whom she exchanged ideas, including song lyrics, directly online for 2020’s quarantine album *how i’m feeling now*—would argue she doesn’t need any such validation. “It’s a blessing and a curse, to be extremely honest,” she says of her “Angels.” “I’m very lucky to have the fanbase that I have, who are extremely invested in literally every breath I take. They are very vocal and very smart, which draws me to them, because they’ve got great taste and amazing ideas—as I found out when doing *how i’m feeling now*. But you can’t please everyone. I’ve done so many different things that people are always going to gravitate to certain eras. Plus, I think that there’s an element where they like to root for an underdog, or an on-the-fringes personality like mine. Because we feel like we’ve been in it together for a really long time, the online discourse can be so vigorous. So I can’t lie, sometimes it’s a bit of a headfuck, because whilst I absolutely adore them, I don’t make music for them specifically when I’m sat in the studio—I’m making it for me. And I don’t think they would admire me as the artist I am if I just kept giving them what they expected.” It’s time to listen for yourself. Explore Charli’s premium pop with her own track-by-track guide. **“Crash”** “Until maybe a week before I made this song, the album was going to be called *Sorry If I Hurt You*. But one day, I was driving in my car and *CRASH* just came to me, and I called A. G. Cook. Even though he wasn\'t a *huge* part of this record, he\'s still very much my creative confidant. He agreed it made sense with the constant car references in my work—and I like the onomatopoeia, I like how it references \[2014 single\] ‘Boom Clap,’ and I like how it feels much more punchy and in-your-face than *how i’m feeling now*. I felt that the title needed a song, so A. G. and I got in the studio pretty quickly and knew we needed to make it sound extremely ’80s—if you could bottle the album into one song, this is it. We—plus the song’s co-producer George Daniel—had been sending a lot of new jack swing beats back and forth, and I knew I wanted this guitar solo, and to add these crazy Janet-esque stabs.” **“New Shapes” (feat. Caroline Polachek & Christine and the Queens)** “Caroline, Christine, and I had worked together many times in different forms, and it was time for the three of us to come together. And actually, this song was recorded a long time ago—pre-pandemic. I like how it\'s an antihero song. We’re saying to the love figure, ‘I haven\'t got what you need from me, because I am not typical. I don\'t operate in the way that you want me to. I want multiple partners. I want somebody else. I want no convention within sex and love.’ And I like that as a statement right after the sound of a car crash in the previous song. To do that song with them—two artists who I really feel have such a unique, defiant, and topsy-turvy vision of what pop music is—felt really classic and right for us. There’s a true connection between us now, in music and in our personal lives.” **“Good Ones”** “I think this song deserved to be bigger, but I will always think that of my work. But I do think it established the Cliffs Notes version of what the record is—it\'s got a darkness to it, and it\'s very pop. I like how drastic the jump was between coming out of *how i’m feeling now* into this, both sonically and in how they were made. *how i’m feeling now* was obviously my quarantine album made in my living room over five weeks by me and two trusted collaborators. This song is produced by Oscar Holter—an extremely active part of the Max Martin camp—and not really written hugely by myself but by two amazing topliners, Caroline Ailin and Noonie Bao. So it’s the absolute polar opposite.” **“Constant Repeat”** “This song features an imaginary scenario I created in my head, where I fell for somebody but imagined that they didn\'t want me—which turned out to not be the case. But it was this fear that I had, and my prediction of the situation. I think it\'s interesting that you can convince yourself of that. When you are falling for someone, unfortunately, I think human nature just crushes in on you and tells you you\'re not good enough, and fills you with doubt and dread and fear and all of those things. This song really poured out of me quite late in the album process, and it just felt so real and natural.” **“Beg for You” (feat. Rina Sawayama)** “Rina wanted to do something uptempo together, and give our fans a bit more of a moment. So when this song idea bubbled up, I called her immediately. She rewrote the second verse, and sounded incredible on it. It’s a very perfect-storm moment, because we’re two artists operating within the pop sphere, but always challenging it and doing something a little bit more left. She also has that hardcore, diehard fanbase—there’s a lot of crossover. Whilst maybe some of them were expecting something a little bit more experimental from us, I think, in a way, you can\'t deny that this actually is the perfect song for us in that we are paying a homage to a gay anthem \[‘Cry for You’ by September\]. She\'s queer, I\'m a queer ally, we\'re coming together to really just live our best lives and sing an iconic pop song.” **“Move Me”** “This song came from a writing camp that I was invited to by \[US producer and songwriter\] Ian Kirkpatrick. I hadn’t done a very classic camp for a while. Not because I\'m anti them—I actually think I thrive quite well in them and enjoy them. I ended up writing this with \[US songwriter and producer\] Amy Allen. We’re actually polar opposites in terms of our styles, which is why this song ended up being so beautiful—the aggressive parts of the song where I was basically yelling into a mic are very me, then you have the balance of Amy’s gorgeous verses. As we were doing it, everyone kept talking about how it’d be a great song for Halsey. I was like, ‘No, I love Halsey, but this is a great song for me and I’m fucking keeping it.’ People talk about writing-camp songs being fake and constructed in a test tube or whatever. But it’s very real. We write from our reality. That’s why we’re good songwriters.” **“Baby”** “This was one of the first tracks I made for this album, probably pre-pandemic, and with Justin Raisen—who was a very crucial part of my first album, *True Romance* \[2013\]. So it felt really good to be going back and working with him in the same house where we made part of the first album. This was a song that I always felt was so passionate and fiery and sexy. And I think the making of this song helped me feel powerful, and want to explore the sexier side of pop music and my artistry. It’s the song that helped me decide that I wanted to dance for this campaign, because I just couldn\'t stop wanting to move to it whilst we were making it.” **“Lightning”** “It began as one of those half demos that I took away and lived with. I then called up Ariel Rechtshaid, who was also a huge part of the first album, alongside Justin Raisen, and said, ‘OK, I have this song. I want to do *True Romance in 2022* with it.” And while I know he’s not really on that hype currently, I told him he was the king of the ’80s and if he felt it needed to go down that road, I trusted him because he has the most impeccable taste. So he sent it back to me, and there was a question mark over the Spanish guitar moment, which goes into a chorus. I sent it to A. G. to ask his opinion. He was like, ‘It\'s insane. I laughed out loud.’ And I was like, ‘OK, great. We\'re keeping it.’” **“Every Rule”** “It\'s the true story of me meeting my previous partner, and both of us being in relationships but knowing that we were meant to be together. I think that that\'s a story that a lot of my friends have also experienced—and obviously there\'s a lot of controversy that comes with that circumstance. People are afraid to talk about it. People feel shame. But it\'s also, it\'s really real. I think you have to be really brave to admit to yourself that you\'re not in love with maybe the person that you\'re with, and that you are in love with someone else. It\'s cruel on both sides, and I think you can really hear that. It was a song that I really only felt comfortable enough to make with A. G. He would never judge me for saying these things. It’s another pre-pandemic song, and A. G. was living in a place with a studio in his garage. There was a tree outside that was always covered in crickets. You can hear the crickets in the recording, which I think is really sweet and charming. Once we’d lived with the song for about a year, A. G. had the idea of asking Oneohtrix Point Never to add some things to the song, which I loved.” **“Yuck”** “I like the drastic gear change here. I like that it makes you laugh. I like those jarring moments on albums and in live shows where you\'re going from the most intimate, quiet song to the most hilarious or poptastic. That was the reasoning behind putting ‘Every Rule’ and ‘Yuck’ back to back. I really struggle with that feeling of being smothered. It\'s probably an only-child thing, or something. When you\'re like, ‘Get away from me, give me some fucking space’—that is seriously how I feel 50% of the time. It also reminds me of that gang vocal element of ‘Boom Clap’ and ‘Boys.’ Not sonically, but more in terms of the way that I\'m singing. I\'m definitely not the most technical singer ever—if you put me next to Ariana Grande and made us both sing the same song, I would sound absolutely insane, and she would sound absolutely gorgeous—but when it comes to singing like this, I feel pretty confident. That’s really nice for me, just in a technical way. It\'s really fun to be like, ‘Yeah. You know what? I can sing this song.’ Which I know sounds stupid because I am a professional ‘singer.’” **“Used to Know Me”** “I was trying to emulate myself on ‘Fancy’—or get back into that headspace. I really remember searching for the chorus melody to ‘Fancy’ in a way that I hadn\'t really searched for a melody before. Normally I\'m very instinctual and spontaneous when it comes to melodies, but with ‘Fancy,’ I had to really maneuver my brain around different corners to figure it out—to understand the formation of the notes. I wrote this on my own at Stargate’s studios, which probably made me feel like I had to write a really big pop song, and then when I was listening to it on repeat in my car, I just started singing the synth line to ‘Show Me Love’ by Robin S. So I called a few people and was like, ‘Is this possible?’ And everyone said, ‘Yes, but do you care about publishing?’ And I was like, ‘I guess not.’ It feels to me like a big song—it’s about reshaping who you are after a breakup.” **“Twice”** “I had reservations about making this the last song because it\'s such an obvious choice with the key change and outro. And generally speaking, I\'m anti the obvious choice. But then George Daniel, who is very good with tracklisting, simply said, ‘You\'re an idiot if you don\'t put this song last.’ It’s actually interesting lyrically, because it\'s about the end of the world and that you shouldn\'t think twice about intimate moments, or these off-the-cuff moments. Essentially, YOLO, and enjoy delving into these once-in-a-lifetime situations that everybody ends up in. I was picturing the scene from \[Lars von Trier’s 2011 film\] *Melancholia* where Kirsten Dunst’s character is sat on a hill waiting for the end of the world. It’s a perfect closer, and I also think it’s a very beautiful song.”

The list of guesting artists on Coi Leray’s debut *Trendsetter* reads like a lineup for the most lit Rolling Loud festival yet. The album contains appearances from Nicki Minaj, Fivio Foreign, Young M.A, G Herbo, H.E.R., NAV, *Million Dollaz Worth of Game* podcast hosts Wallo267 and Gillie, Polo G, Lil Tecca, A Boogie wit da Hoodie, Pooh Shiesty, and Lil Durk. To be clear, Leray doesn’t need other artists to make a hit. See “TWINNEM,” a bubbly ode to BFFs that would net her more than a billion TikTok listens, and even “No More Parties,” a song that had legs as a solo outing before Lil Durk hopped on the remix, launching it fully into orbit. But *Trendsetter* serves to showcase, as much as anything else, that Leray is the ideal collaborator. She can sing, she can rap, and she can make a hit song with just about anyone you put in the studio with her.

Daddy Yankee wrote this exclusive message to mark what he says will be his last album: *I’m celebrating my 32-year career with my final musical footprint. All of the styles that defined me in one piece. LEGENDADDY is struggle, celebration, war and romance. Thank you to my amazing global family for inspiring me so much in my life. I love you* ❤️ *…….Daddy Yankee* 🐐

For all the different forms his music has assumed over the years—glam, chamber-folk, yacht rock, dream-pop—you can readily identify any Destroyer song the instant that Dan Bejar opens his mouth to dispense his cryptic yet deliciously dramatic narratives. And no record in his long, winding career puts that theory to the test as gleefully as *LABYRINTHITIS*, an album that’s essentially the musical manifestation of his famously frizzy, mad-scientist hairdo: It’s bursting with wild sonic ideas that shoot off in every direction, yet it’s always unmistakably him. After luring us in with the warm, shoegazey synth drones and subaquatic bass throb of “It’s in Your Heart Now,” *LABYRINTHITIS* traps us in its maniacal maze and dares us to find a way out: “June” deviously blurs the line between polyrhythmic post-punk and ’80s adult-contemporary pop before free-falling into a bizarre, voice-modulated spoken-word breakdown; “Tintoretto, It’s for You” is part louche cabaret strut, part festival-EDM meltdown. But *LABYRINTHITIS*’s boldness of vision also yields rousing moments of release (“Suffer,” “It Takes a Thief”) that infuse the pop elegance of 2011’s *Kaputt* with a little extra *kapow*. The instrumental title track provides a welcome mid-album reprieve in which the band crafts a Boards of Canada-worthy pastorale, complete with the comforting sounds of chattering children.

Thebe Kgositsile emerged in 2010 as the most mysterious member of rap’s weirdest new collective, Odd Future—a gifted teen turned anarchist, spitting shock-rap provocations from his exile in a Samoan reform school. In the 12 years since, he’s repaired his famously fraught relationship with his mother, lost his father, and become a father himself, all the while carving out a solo lane as a serious MC, a student of the game. Earl’s fourth album finds the guy who once titled an album *I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside*, well, going outside, and kinda liking it; on opener “Old Friend,” he’s hacking through thickets, camping out in Catskills rainstorms. There’s a sonic clarity here that stands apart from the obscure, sludgy sounds of his recent records, executed in part by Young Guru, JAY-Z’s longtime engineer. Beats from The Alchemist and Black Noi$e snap, crackle, and bounce, buoying Earl’s slippery, open-ended thoughts on family, writing, religion, the pandemic. Is he happy now, the kid we’ve watched become a man? It’s hard to say, but in any case, as he raps on “Fire in the Hole”: “It’s no rewinding/For the umpteenth time, it’s only forward.”

EARTHGANG are proud, boundary-pushing Atlantans, celebrating the city’s rap legacy with eclectic hybrids of soul, funk, trap percussion, and alien electronic textures that bump beneath their often-melodic delivery and idiosyncratic cadences. Backed by that modernized Southern sound, the Dreamville duo continue to exist as insightful yet laidback stoners, the affable and cloud-shrouded deep thinkers who see through the smoke blown by politicians, police, and the like while trying to find their joy. Olu and WowGr8 will show up for a protest and show out for a pool party, their verses juggling incisive social commentary with comedy and the pursuit of physical pleasures. On *GHETTO GODS*, their second major-label effort, they dissect trauma (on the title track), mental health (“STRONG FRIENDS”), the ills of capitalism (“LIE TO ME”), and the lingering ramifications of slavery (“AMERICAN HORROR STORY”) with assists from Dreamville compatriots JID and J.Cole and fellow Atlantans like Future. Throughout, EARTHGANG maintain their impressive gift for addressing heavy subjects on bouncing songs that don\'t kill the vibe.

Over the course of 30 years, Eddie Vedder has evolved from wild-eyed spokesperson for a generation to spotlight-allergic grouch to, slowly but surely, one of rock’s elder statesmen—a guy who can comfortably share a stage with Bono, The Boss, and JAY-Z. And though his second solo outing (2011’s aptly titled *Ukulele Songs*) showcased his gentler side, its follow-up is more diverse: a panoramic sprint through blistering punk (“Power of Right”), classic pop (the Elton John-enriched “Picture”), road-ready anthems (“The Dark”), and the sort of tender ballads he’s penned for Pearl Jam this side of the ’90s (“The Haves”). Most of all, Vedder—long seen as self-serious by some—sounds like a kid in a garage here, calling out to ground control from the cockpit on “Invincible” or shooting himself out of a cannon on “Try.” It sounds like he’s having *fun*.

Ella Mai knows her way around a love song. We\'ve known that for years—certainly since her 2017 single “Boo\'d Up” proved a breakout sensation—but her second album cements her as one of R&B\'s preeminent heart healers. *Heart on My Sleeve* is filled with the kind of desperate pleas and resolute statements of adoration that could soften even the hardest of hearts. With a voice made of satin and honey, she sings of love in the way so many wish to feel it—vulnerable and terrified yet thoroughly convinced it\'s worth it. The lead singles, “DFMU” (which stands for “don\'t fuck me up”) and “Leave You Alone” (“I can\'t leave you alone,” goes the staccato and Auto-Tune hook), were the perfect appetizers for what proves to be a buffet of tender devotion intertwined with blind infatuation. On the gorgeous “Break My Heart,” Mai welcomes the heartache if it means feeling the rush for even a second: “Face my fears, ’cause if I had to choose who could break my heart, baby, it would be you,” she confesses on the hook. “Fallen Angel” literally invokes the heavens with a cameo from a Kirk Franklin-led choir that slides seamlessly into the lament of “How,” which, despite its grievances, still manages an optimistic bent. Elsewhere, tracks like “Pieces” and “A Mess” are about leaning into a person and the feelings they stir up, even when it doesn\'t necessarily make sense. The songs here aren\'t naive to the problems or immune to the pain, but instead reflect someone choosing love again and again. It\'s far too easy to keep our walls up—and in a voice note at the end of “Sink or Swim,” Mary J. Blige in fact implores us to “guard that heart” from those who don\'t deserve us—but *Heart on My Sleeve* also reminds us of the potential rewards that await on the other side.

Josh Tillman, aka Father John Misty, has released five albums in the last decade—and each one is an expansion of and challenge to his indie-folk instrumental palette. From the stark rock/folk contrasts of *Fear Fun*’s ballads and anthems to the mariachi strains of *I Love You, Honeybear*’s love notes to the wry commentary and grand orchestrations of *Pure Comedy* and *God’s Favorite Customer*, Tillman has a penchant for pairing his articulate inner monologue with arrangements that have only grown more eclectic and elaborate. *Chloë and the Next 20th Century* builds on all of the above—the micro-symphonies, the inventive percussion, the swift shift from dusty country-western nostalgia to timeless dirges plunked out on a dive-bar piano. A swooning sax solo in a somber jazz number (“Buddy’s Rendezvous”) is immediately followed by the trill of a psychedelic harpsichord (“Q4”); “Goodbye Mr. Blue” recalls the acoustic inclinations of his early work, and warm strings wash over the record, from its first single, the romantic “Funny Girl,” through “The Next 20th Century,” the album’s sardonic closer, which resurfaces the ever-simmering existential dread of *Pure Comedy*. “If this century’s here to stay,” he sings on the track, “I don’t know about you, but I’ll take the love songs/And the great distance that they came.”

Father John Misty returns with Chloë and The Next 20th Century, his fifth album and first new material since the release of God’s Favorite Customer in 2018. Chloë and the Next 20th Century was written and recorded August through December 2020 and features arrangements by Drew Erickson. The album sees Tillman and producer/multi-instrumentalist Jonathan Wilson resume their longtime collaboration, as well as Dave Cerminara, returning as engineer and mixer. Basic tracks were recorded at Wilson’s Five Star Studios with strings, brass, and woodwinds recorded at United Recordings in a session featuring Dan Higgins and Wayne Bergeron, among others. Chloë and The Next 20th Century features the singles “Funny Girl,” “Q4,” “Goodbye Mr. Blue,” and “Kiss Me (I Loved You),” and will be available April 8th, 2022 worldwide from Sub Pop and in Europe from Bella Union.

Fivio Foreign’s “City of Gods” couldn’t have been more of a statement if he’d released it through a PR firm. The song, out a couple months ahead of his *B.I.B.L.E.* album, features production *and* a guest verse from Kanye West and a repurposed Chainsmokers chorus as sung by Alicia Keys. If that wasn’t enough to stake the Brooklyn MC’s claim in contemporary New York City hip-hop lore, he spells it out in rhyme: “Pop was the king of New York, now I\'m the n\*\*\*a in charge.” Fivio has been nothing if not clear about his reverence for Pop Smoke throughout their once-intertwined ascents, but if *B.I.B.L.E.*’s long and star-studded guest list tells us anything, it’s that Fivio is well on his way to being crowned the hottest in the city. *B.I.B.L.E.*, which is actually executive-produced by West—and mixed and mastered by MIKE DEAN—features Quavo, A$AP Rocky, Coi Leray, Queen Naija, Vory, Chlöe, Lil Yachty, Blueface, DJ Khaled, Ne-Yo, and Polo G, in addition to the aforementioned West and Keys. To Fivio’s credit, though, he’s invited them all to the trenches, setting a table of nonstop Brooklyn drill production as envisioned by frequent collaborators AyoAA and AXL Beats. These aren’t the kind of backdrops we’re used to hearing a large majority of these guests against, but we figure they see in Fivio what he sees in himself, and that’s NYC hip-hop’s latest and greatest conquering hero.

“When I make records, I make them with the idea that no one else will hear them,” Florence Welch tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “When you get to the realization that this private dialogue is going to be completely public, it’s like I’ve tricked myself again.” On her band’s fifth album *Dance Fever*, such private dialogues include rejecting real love (“Girls Against God”), dance as the greatest form of release (the anxious synth-folk of “Free”), embracing less healthy coping mechanisms in her past (“Morning Elvis”), and the push-pull between a creative career and the possible desire to start a family. “I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king,” Welch declares in baritone on “King,” in which she ponders one of *Dance Fever*’s most prominent themes: her complicated relationship with her own artistry. “A lot of it is questioning what it gives to me as well, and being like, ‘Why do I need this so much, sometimes at the cost of more sustainable forms of intimacy or more stable relationships?’” she says. “I think this record is questioning, ‘How committed am I to my own loneliness? How committed am I to my sense of a tragic figure?’” Work on the album had begun alongside producer Jack Antonoff in New York in early 2020 before the pandemic forced Welch back to London, where her creativity was stifled for six long months. *Dance Fever*, then, also covers writer’s block (the cathartic “My Love,” a track intended to help shake off Welch’s blues, and our own) and her despair of what was lost in a locked-down world. Her lyrics occasionally poke fun at the image she has created of herself (“I think there\'s a humor also in self-knowledge that runs through this record that I\'ve actually found really liberating,” says Welch), but they are often as strikingly vulnerable as on 2018’s *High as Hope*. And even if the singer admits on “King” that she is “never satisfied,” her band’s fifth album has brought her rare peace. “I feel like I managed to take everything that I learned in the last 15 years and consolidate it into this record, into this art, into the videos,” she says. “I felt like, if I had to prove something to myself, somehow I did it on this record.” Read on as Welch talks us through a selection of tracks on *Dance Fever*. **“King”** “Sometimes songs just arrive fully formed, and it\'s always when you think you\'ll never write a song again. I felt like my creative abilities were finally at the peak of how I understood myself as an artist and what I wanted to do. But if I wanted to have a family, there was this sense that suddenly I was being irresponsible with my time by choosing this thing that I\'ve known my whole life, which is performance, which is making songs, which is striving to be the best performer that I can be. Somehow, it would be your fault if you miss the boat. I think that scream at the end of ‘King,’ it\'s just one of frustration, and confusion as well. I was thinking about Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen. I was thinking about how they can commit their body entirely to the stage. I was like, ‘Oh my god, I\'m not going to be able to do that. I\'m going to have to make choices.’ It\'s a statement of confidence, but also of humor that the album has, of ‘If I\'m going to sacrifice these other things in my life, I have to be the best.’ I was like, ‘Why not me? Why can\'t I be king?’” **“Free”** “I think out of all the Florence + the Machine songs, it\'s sort of the purest sentiment of why I do it, distilled into why music is so important to me, why I need it, why performance is so important to me. Sometimes you just know a song is working: When we started playing it before it had even come out, just this ripple started in the audience of people catching onto the chorus and starting to move. And it was one of those moments where I was like, ‘Oh, this is a special one. This is really hitting something in people.’ And that\'s so magical for me. That\'s when the celebration starts.” **“Daffodil”** “I thought I\'d lost my mind, because I remember coming home and being like, ‘Okay, I wrote a song today. It might be the most Florence + the Machine thing I\'ve ever done. We\'re a year into the pandemic, I think maybe I\'m losing it. The chorus is just “daffodil” over and over again.’ I was like, ‘Can you do that? That\'s a crazy thing to do.’ There were so many moments where I had nearly gave up on this record. There were so many moments where I nearly went, ‘It just feels like the way that the world is, this is just too hard to finish.’” **“The Bomb”** “There\'s a lot of nods, I think, to the previous records. All three of them are in this album, which is nice. Because I feel like somehow I\'m bridging the gaps between all of them on this record, like all the things I\'ve been interested in. This song is nodding to what I was thinking about, in terms of unavailability in people, in *High as Hope* in songs like ‘Big God,’ with like the obsession of someone who\'ll never text you back. Why is the person who creates the most space and gives you nothing the most appealing person? And really that\'s because if you\'re a songwriter, they give you the most enormous space for fantasy and you can write anything you want because they don\'t really exist. Every time I think in my life I\'ve been in a stable place, something or someone will come up and be like, ‘How do you feel about blowing all this up?’ It\'s also a fear of growing up and a fear of getting older, because if you regenerate yourself constantly through other people by blowing up, changing everything, you never have to face aging or death.” **“Morning Elvis”** “I\'m obsessed with Nick Cave as a performer, but the performer he\'s obsessed with is Elvis. So that\'s how it feeds back to me. I was at home and stuck and there was an Elvis documentary. It made me remember us, when we were on tour in New Orleans, it would have maybe been on the second record. The wheels were really coming off for me, in terms of drinking and partying. I just got very in the spirit of New Orleans and was at a party and just went, \'You all leave without me, I\'m staying at this party.\' I ended up with my dress completely shredded, because I\'m always wearing these vintage things that basically just disintegrate: If you’re on a rager, you will come back with nothing. You would\'ve thought things were going so well for me. What was it about me that had such a death wish? I had such little care for myself. It didn\'t matter what I had done the night before, or the week before, or what chaos I had created, I knew if I got to the stage, something there would save me and that I would be absolved. And that song is about that feeling, but also a testament to all the performers I\'ve seen turn pain into something so beautiful.”

*I NEVER LIKED YOU*, the first Future project since his and Lil Uzi Vert’s *Pluto x Baby Pluto* and his first solo outing since 2020’s *High Off Life*, was likely titled to cause a stir. Future has been a poster boy for the kind of toxic romantic engagements that turn well-intentioned social media users into self-certified relationship experts since about the time of his split with one-time fiancée Ciara. But rather than defend his lifestyle choices in earnest or make a case for himself as misunderstood, he drops an album whose title posits him as either a vindictive lover or a victim of a betrayal. But Future is nobody’s victim. With *I NEVER LIKED YOU*, he\'s more likely a master of marketing. The album has far less to do with the rhetoric that surrounds his dating life than it does the MC’s lifestyle, drawing open the blinds within a single bar of “HOLY GHOST”: “I was in my big truck, my wrist up, getting my dick sucked.” The MC sounds as happy as ever across *I NEVER LIKED YOU*, lamenting only—in the rare instance that he laments—a perceived lack of credit for his stylistic influence (“I\'M DAT N\*\*\*A,” “PUFFIN ON ZOOTIEZ”). There are two instances, however, wherein his influence is wholly undeniable: “I’M ON ONE” and “KEEP IT BURNIN,” where Drake and Kanye West each take a turn paying tribute to one of their most cherished collaborators, rattling off volatile non sequiturs in classic Future style.

In the near-decade since LA-based best-friend duo Girlpool, Avery Tucker and Harmony Tividad, infiltrated the indie pop-rock scene with their gorgeous harmonies and punky melodies as teenagers, a lot has changed: They instituted additional instrumentalists, they started veering away from their charmingly minimal and diaristic songwriting, and Avery began transitioning before their third LP, *What Chaos Is Imaginary*. *Forgiveness*, the pair’s fourth full-length, is the product of that growth. Their ear for sparse composition has evolved; instead of speaking world-weary truths in the space between spiky guitar riffs, they’ve grounded their sincerity in ethereal production, spacey synth, and songs that interrogate gender, relationships, and everything in between. Once celebrated for their youthful exuberance, Girlpool has never lost their heart, they’ve simply gained wisdom.

Harry Styles’ third solo album, *Harry’s House*, is the product of a chain reaction. Had the pandemic not thrown his world into a tailspin in early 2020, he would’ve continued to tour behind *Fine Line*, his critically adored sophomore album, and played its songs hundreds of times for sold-out crowds around the world. A return to the studio was planned, of course, but when COVID-19 canceled those plans too, Styles faced an empty calendar for the first time in a decade. The singer opted to use this free time carefully, taking a solo road trip through Italy and visiting with family and friends for rare long, drawn-out stretches. It was an important moment of reevaluation. “You miss so many birthdays,” he told Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “And eventually it\'s just assumed you\'re unable to be at stuff. Finally I was like, ‘I want to balance my life out a bit. Working isn’t who I am, it\'s something I do. I want to be able to put that down.’” His upbeat, lightly electronic third LP riffs on the concept of home, viewing it less as a geographical location and more as a state of mind—his mind. “Imagine it’s a day in my house, a day in my mind,” he said. “What do I go through? I’m playing fun music. I’m playing sad music. I have doubts. I’m feeling stuff.” Because of the pandemic, Styles recorded the songs with a small handful of longtime friends and close collaborators who gathered in a single room to drink wine, write, and play. That intimacy is reflected in the songs, which are conversational and casually confessional, as if he’s thinking out loud. Blending vintage folk rock with flickers of disco and a generally more relaxed sensibility, they illustrate a turning point in Styles’ career as he transitions even further towards career singer-songwriter. “For a while it was, how do I play that game of remaining exciting?” he says. “But I finally had a moment where I felt like, ‘Okay, I’m not the young thing, so I would like to really think about who I want to be as a musician.’” Read on for the inside story behind a handful of standout selections from *Harry’s House*. **“Music for a Sushi Restaurant”** “After *Fine Line*, I had an idea of how I thought the next album would open. But there\'s something about ‘Sushi’ that felt like, ‘Nah, *that\'s* how I want to start.’ It becomes really obvious what the first song should be based on what you play for people when they’re like, ‘Oh, can I hear a bit of the music?’ It\'s like, how do you want to set the tone?” **“Daylight”** “We were like, ‘We have to find a way to stay awake and finish this, because if we all go to bed, then this won’t turn out the way it would if we finished tonight.’ So we powered through, finished it, and went down to the beach as the sun was coming up and it was like, ‘Okay. Yeah.’ It felt correct that we\'d finished it in that place. Life, and songs in particular, are so much about moments. In surfing, for example, sometimes you don\'t get the wave and sometimes the wave comes and you haven\'t practiced. But every now and again, the wave comes and you’re ready, you\'ve practiced enough that you can ride it. Sometimes when the songs write themselves like that, it feels like, ‘Okay, there\'s a reason why sometimes I sit out there, falling off the board a bunch. It\'s for this moment.” **“As It Was”** “‘As It Was,’ to me, is bittersweet. It’s devastating. It\'s a death march. It’s about metamorphosis and a perspective change, which are not necessarily things you have time with. People aren’t like, ‘Oh, we\'ll give you a couple more days with this moment and let you say goodbye to your former self,’ or whatever. No. Everyone is changing, and by the time you realize what’s happened, \[the moment\] is already gone. During the pandemic, I think we all at some point realized that it would never be the same as it was before. It was so obvious that it wouldn’t. You can\'t go backwards—we can’t as a society and I can’t in my personal life. But you learn so much in those moments because you’re forced to face things head-on, whether they’re your least favorite things about the world or your least favorite things about yourself, or all of it.” **“Matilda”** “I had an experience with someone where, in getting to know them better, they revealed some stuff to me that was very much like, ‘Oh, that\'s not normal, like I think you should maybe get some help or something.’ This song was inspired by that experience and person, who I kind of disguised as Matilda from the Roald Dahl book. I played it to a couple of friends and all of them cried. So I was like, ‘Okay, I think this is something to pay attention to.’ It\'s a weird one, because with something like this, it\'s like, ‘I want to give you something, I want to support you in some way, but it\'s not necessarily my place to make it about me because it\'s not my experience.’ Sometimes it\'s just about listening. I hope that\'s what I did here. If nothing else, it just says, ‘I was listening to you.’” **“Boyfriends”** “‘Boyfriends’ was written right at the end of *Fine Line*. I\'d finished the album and there was an extra week where I wrote ‘Adore You,’ ‘Lights Up,’ and ‘Treat People With Kindness.’ At the end of the session for ‘Lights Up,’ we started writing ‘Boyfriends,’ and it felt like, ‘Okay, there\'s a version of this story where we get this song ready for this album.’ But something about it just felt like, no, it’ll have its time, let\'s not rush it. We did so many versions of it. Vocal. Acoustic. Electric guitar. Harmonies on everything, and then we took them out for chunks and put them back in for chunks. You try not to get ahead of yourself when you write a song, but there was something about this one where I felt like, ‘Okay, when I\'m 50, if I\'m playing a show, maybe there\'s someone who heard me for the first time when they were 15 and this is probably the song they came to see.’ Because I\'m learning so much by singing it. It’s my way of saying, ‘I’m hearing you.’ It’s both acknowledging my own behavior and looking at behavior I\'ve witnessed. I grew up with a sister, so I watched her date people, and I watched friends date people, and people don\'t treat each other very nicely sometimes.” **“Cinema”** “I think I just wanted to make something that felt really fun, honestly. I was on a treadmill going, ‘Do-do-do-do-do-do.’ I tend to do so much writing in the studio, but with this one, I did a little bit here and then I went home and added a little bit there, and then kind of left it, and then went into the studio to put it all together. That was a theme across the whole album, actually: We used to book a studio and be like, ‘Okay, we\'ve got it for two months, grind it out.’ But some days you just don\'t want to be there, and eventually you\'ve been in the studio so long, the only thing you can write about is nothing because you haven\'t done anything. So with this album, we’d work for a couple of weeks and then everyone would go off and live their lives.” **“Love of My Life”** “‘Love of My Life’ was the most terrifying song because it\'s so bare. It\'s so sparse. It’s also very much in the spirit of what *Harry\'s House* is about: I wanted to make an acoustic EP, all in my house, and make it really intimate. It’s named after \[the Japanese pop pioneer Haruomi\] Hosono, who had an album in the \'70s called *Hosono House*. I immediately started thinking about what *Harry’s House* might look like. It took time for me to realize that the house wasn\'t a geographical location, it was an internal thing. When I applied that concept to the songs we were making here, everything took on new meaning. Imagine it\'s a day in my house or a day in my mind. What do I go through? I\'m playing fun music. I\'m playing sad music. I\'m playing this, I\'m playing that. I have doubts. I’m feeling stuff. And it’s all mine. This is my favorite album at the moment. I love it so much. And because of the circumstances, it was made very intimately; everything was played by a small number of people and made in a room. To me, it\'s everything. It\'s everything I\'ve wanted to make.”

For fans of ’90s indie rock—your Sonic Youths, your Breeders, your Yo La Tengos—*Versions of Modern Performance* will serve as cosmic validation: Even the kids know the old ways are best. But who influenced you is never as important as what you took from them, a lesson that Chicago’s Horsegirl understands intuitively. Instead, the art is in putting it together: the haze of shoegaze and the deadpan of post-punk (“Option 8,” “Billy”), slacker confidence and twee butterflies (“Beautiful Song,” “World of Pots and Pans”). Their arty interludes they present not as free-jazz improvisers, but a teenage garage band in love with the way their amps hum (“Bog Bog 1,” “Electrolocation 2”).

Horsegirl are best friends. You don’t have to talk to the trio for more than five minutes to feel the warmth and strength of their bond, which crackles through every second of their debut full-length, Versions of Modern Performance. Penelope Lowenstein (guitar, vocals), Nora Cheng (guitar, vocals), and Gigi Reece (drums) do everything collectively, from songwriting to trading vocal duties and swapping instruments to sound and visual art design. “We made [this album] knowing so fully what we were trying to do,” the band says. “We would never pursue something if one person wasn’t feeling good about it. But also, if someone thought something was good, chances are we all thought it was good. ”Versions of Modern Performance was recorded with John Agnello (Kurt Vile, The Breeders, Dinosaur Jr.) at Electrical Audio. “It’s our debut bare-bones album in a Chicago institution with a producer who we feel like really respected what we were trying to do,” the band says. Horsegirl expertly play with texture, shape, and shade across the record, showcasing their fondness for improvisation and experimentation. Opener “Anti-glory” is elastic and bright post-punk, while the guitars in instrumental interlude “Bog Bog 1” smear across the song’s canvas like watercolors. “Dirtbag Transformation (Still Dirty)” and “World of Pots and Pans” have rough, blown-out pop charm. “The Fall of Horsegirl” is all sharp edges and dark corners.

When Kendrick Lamar popped up on two tracks from Baby Keem’s *The Melodic Blue* (“range brothers” and “family ties”), it felt like one of hip-hop’s prophets had descended a mountain to deliver scripture. His verses were stellar, to be sure, but it also just felt like way too much time had passed since we’d heard his voice. He’d helmed 2018’s *Black Panther* compilation/soundtrack, but his last proper release was 2017’s *DAMN.* That kind of scarcity in hip-hop can only serve to deify an artist as beloved as Lamar. But if the Compton MC is broadcasting anything across his fifth proper album *Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers*, it’s that he’s only human. The project is split into two parts, each comprising nine songs, all of which serve to illuminate Lamar’s continually evolving worldview. Central to Lamar’s thesis is accountability. The MC has painstakingly itemized his shortcomings, assessing his relationships with money (“United in Grief”), white women (“Worldwide Steppers”), his father (“Father Time”), the limits of his loyalty (“Rich Spirit”), love in the context of heteronormative relationships (“We Cry Together,” “Purple Hearts”), motivation (“Count Me Out”), responsibility (“Crown”), gender (“Auntie Diaries”), and generational trauma (“Mother I Sober”). It’s a dense and heavy listen. But just as sure as Kendrick Lamar is human like the rest of us, he’s also a Pulitzer Prize winner, one of the most thoughtful MCs alive, and someone whose honesty across *Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers* could help us understand why any of us are the way we are.

In late 2020, Kevin Morby holed up in the then-quiet Peabody hotel in Memphis to escape a pandemic-burdened winter in his hometown of Kansas City. There, he wrote *This Is a Photograph*, a folky, left-of-the-dial rock album and a particularly reflective entry in his catalog. Its sound is sometimes earthy and gospel-inflected, sometimes lush and symphonic, with lyrics tinted by existential reflection and the specter of death. The sinewy title track was inspired by family photos that Morby and his mother went through after thinking they’d just seen his father die following an accidental double dose of heart medication. The lived-in duet “Bittersweet, TN,” about the loss of a friend, features vocals by Erin Rae and floats along on its banjo lines. And the sparse but upbeat “Goodbye To Good Times” doesn’t offer any resolution, but instead presents a eulogy for better days as the songwriter strums his acoustic guitar, simultaneously nostalgic and grounded in the difficult present.

The story begins with Kevin Morby absentmindedly flipping through a box of old family photos in the basement of his childhood home in Kansas City. Just hours before, at a family dinner, his father had collapsed in front of him and had to be rushed to the hospital. That night Morby still felt the shock and fear lodged in his bones. So he gazed at the images until one of the pictures jumped out at him: his father as a young man, proud and strong and filled with confidence, posing on a lawn with his shirt off. This was in January of 2020. As the months went on and the world dramatically changed around him, Morby felt an eerie similarity between his feelings of that night and the atmosphere of those spring days. Fear, anxiety, hope and resilience all churning together. The themes began twisting in his mind. History, trauma and the grand fight against time. Having the courage to dream, even while knowing the tragedy that often awaits those who dare to dream. While his father regained his strength, Morby meditated on these ideas. And then, he headed to Memphis. He moved into the Peabody Hotel and spent his days paying tribute and genuflecting to the dreamers he admired. In the evening, he would return to his room and document his ideas on a makeshift recording set-up, with just his guitar and a microphone. The songs, elegiac in nature, befitting all he had seen, poured out of him. Produced by Sam Cohen (who also worked on Morby’s Singing Saw and Oh My God), This Is A Photograph features musical contributions from longtime staples of Morby’s live band, as well as old friends and new collaborators alike. If Oh My God saw Morby getting celestial and in constant motion and Sundowner was a study in localized intent, This Is A Photograph finds Morby making an Americana paean, a visceral life and death, blood on the canvas outpouring. As Morby reminds us early on, time is undefeated. So what do we do while we’re still here? This is a photograph of that sense of yearning.

“I know one song won’t change everything, but all I have is my voice,” Koffee tells Apple Music. “So, that’s what I’ll use to speak out. I might not be affected by certain injustices directly, but living in a place like Jamaica, you can’t avoid the truth of it. There’s youths here that have grown up with violence right on their doorstep, and I’m not just representing myself now—I also must speak out for them.” In 2019, the world bowed as Koffee—real name Mikayla Simpson—unveiled her innovative blend of reggae, dancehall, and sculpted rap flows on the Grammy-winning EP *Rapture*. That was a historic victory, too, seeing Koffee become the youngest and first female winner of the Best Reggae Album award. The pandemic could’ve threatened to slow her rise, but she instead leaned into the rich musical heritage of Jamaica (the spirit of Bob Marley is present on “x10,” while “Lonely” is a stunning ode to ’80s lovers rock) and the expertise of her live band to help craft a gorgeous, rich debut album. “It was about recreating those uplifting vibes that I had in my mind,” she says. “And I’m so happy we were able to, especially during a time that people need us to spread this message. I feel honored when I listen back to these songs, perfectly arranged and beautifully done, feeling like, ‘Yeah, I am gifted.’” Read on for her track-by-track guide to *Gifted*. **“x10”** “I came up with this song after a show in Antwerp. I was listening to my Bob Marley playlist, with \[1980 single\] ‘Redemption Song’ on repeat, alone in my room. In Jamaica, he is pretty much a permanent part of the culture. And we all experience his music from a young age, one way or another. I laid these lyrics down that night as a voice note, and the message is still so true. ‘It’s a pleasure to be outside’ was about coming from Jamaica and having my music take me far away overseas to Belgium. I put that down in 2019; now it’s even more relevant, coming off the pandemic. It’s a *real* pleasure to be back outside now.” **“Defend”** “In my heart, I didn’t want this project to be too heavy. On *Rapture*, the songs are more political, but this one is short and simple—and represents for the fans that love that vibe. I also worked \[in the studio\] with Kendrick Lamar on this track, which was a really dope experience.” **“Shine”** “The first part of this song tells a story, a real ghetto story. ‘Sun’s rising, gun violence, police sirens’—that’s a regular day for the youths. This song speaks to them, especially with the Jamaican and Caribbean scene right now pushing this vibe of senseless crime. These artists probably think it doesn’t affect anyone, and some don’t even care if it does. So, consider this song here a counter to that: if someone’s coming with that vibe, cool, I’ll come with this vibe and show you what’s good.” **“Gifted”** “This one’s a little bit more lyrical, but still very fun. It’s a very Jamaican vibe and a self-affirmation, a simple reminder that whatever happens, you’re ‘guided and gifted.’” **“Lonely”** “I’ve been trying not to ruminate too hard on lyrics lately, just keep the vibe and let it flow. And I was inspired by John McLean’s music, its real lovers rock vibes, and one of my favorites of his: \[1988 single\] ‘If I Gave My Heart to You.’ I really love his music, and I would listen to this particular song, thinking, ‘Man, I’d love to pull this off in my own style,’ and together with my band, we came up with our version.” **“Run Away”** “The vibe that runs through this song—escaping to paradise, running away—is probably as we were away at writing camp. Sat by the seaside, literally. I was thinking, ‘What if we could just get on a boat, go out into the ocean, and just live there with everything we need?’” **“Where I’m From”** “This is a more hardcore, dancehall track dedicated to Jamaica. When I’m away, I miss the warmth—especially in Europe, where it’s freezing. But I also miss the people. There’s a quote from Martin Luther King. He says, ‘In Jamaica, I feel like a human being.’ And it’s because of the way the people relate to everyone and make you *feel*. There’s a certain warmth to it that I love.” **“West Indies”** “During the pandemic, I got the chance to link up with \[Jamaican producer and DJ\] Iotosh, who I’ve been a fan of for a while, and this beat is so sick. This song represents me in the way that, of course, I’m not immune to sadness or frustration, but I also love to laugh and make the best of any situation. This is about having fun, whatever mood you’re in.” **“Pull Up”** “Trust me, even if it’s not my reality at the time, or there’s no party, I consider myself a happy enough person to find the vibe within me. Making this was a fun experience. I had a session with JAE5; we had just recorded ‘Shine,’ and we both weren’t done. He’s playing me more and more beats, trying to get another one in—and I knew I would find the right lyrics once we found it, the right one, with this beat. This was a really fun experience in London for me.” **“Lockdown”** “This was a song I wrote during the pandemic, obviously, but it came really spontaneously. Just as my shows were being canceled, it was also a good time to hit the road and connect with people. I received a call from Popcaan, to come by his studio, hold a vibe, and there I met \[Jamaican producer and artist\] Dane Ray, who’s responsible for some of \[Popcaan’s\] biggest hits. I already knew exactly what I was gonna do with this one, and it helps that he’s a great engineer too.”tes go here.

“I always get deep into a record, but now I’m 100% fully operational,” Kurt Vile tells Apple Music. “I got a fully armed battle station.” The Philly singer-songwriter is referring to Overnight KV, or OKV, the new home studio he finished building just before the pandemic hit in 2020. It’s afforded Vile a level of creative independence he’s not felt since he started recording in his bedroom years ago. “Why do I always have to go to some producer\'s studio?” he asks. “It\'s on their terms. I\'m grateful for it, we got a lot of stuff done. But you could say nothing\'s been 100% my personality since my early, more lo-fi records. I was 100% guard down, just doing my thing, man.” His ninth LP (and first for Verve, the legendary jazz imprint) combines the experimental purity of those early recordings with the sort of “completely high-fidelity” feel that he says his studio can provide, though he did, to be clear, collaborate again with producer Rob Schnapf (Elliott Smith, Beck) both at home and in LA. The result, Vile says, is “kind of like some American folk version of shoegaze music”—a set of sidewinding pop (see: “Flyin \[like a fast train\],” originally written for Kesha) and classic rock (“Fo Sho”) that includes contributions from Cate Le Bon and Chastity Belt, as well as drumming from Stella Mozgawa (Warpaint) and Sarah Jones (Hot Chip, Harry Styles). “It’s just lived in, really, the whole record,” he says. “There\'s multiple records that were left behind. But that\'s the way it should be. That\'s like somebody who\'s a carpenter or something, always working in their shop. I feel like you\'re not meant to put everything out. Just the way I live my life.” Here, Vile tells the story behind a number of songs on the album. **“Goin on a Plane Today”** “I got a piano at my house—it\'s very meditative and I can go to it every day. I remember I\'d be touring \[2018’s\] *Bottle It In*, and I\'d be thinking up these records that I was going to make from home, and then when I was home I\'d go over to the piano and be like, ‘Oh, I\'m so stoked, I\'m going to get a lot of music done while I\'m here.’ And then be rudely awakened to the fact that, no, I’ve got to leave in two weeks. I talk about opening for Neil Young in the song, because I wrote it around the time that we opened for Neil Young with Promise of the Real in Quebec, in 2018. That really happened.” **“Palace of OKV in Reverse”** “I love that there\'s more two-minute jams on this record—you could say that’s not been the case since my first album, \[2008\'s\] *Constant Hitmaker*, with ‘Freeway.’ But there\'s a lot of secrets about ‘OKV in Reverse.’ There\'s just a certain groove to it that triggered my mind, and then those lyrics came pretty quick. I didn\'t sing it until later when I was at Rob Schnapf\'s studio in LA, on the fly. He\'s good at capturing that thing.” **“Like Exploding Stones”** “‘Pain ricocheting in my brain like exploding stones.’ Some people attribute that line to migraines, and I do get migraines, so that\'s fine. But in the moment when I wrote it, it\'s more just stress, something weighing down hard on my head. I was pretty bummed out about something when I wrote that song, and then I recorded it right on my Zoom recorder—pretty much just live acoustics, drumming, and singing live. I imagined guitars feeding back, and the Moog synthesizer making noise, feedback massaging my cranium. I had all those things in the demo. Yeah, that\'s the beauty: You can just exorcise demons.” **“Hey Like a Child”** “It’s a love song. I’ve known my wife since we were pretty young, but you don\'t have to take it all so literally, because in the moment when I was writing it, obviously I\'ve got children of my own. It’s got the shoegaze-y bend, but a jangle to it as well. And I knew that song had super poppy potential. We did an early version of it in my basement studio, but then I took it over to Rob Schnapf\'s and I replayed all the parts, and again, Sarah Jones, she just killed it on drums on that song. That song was made really quick.” **“Chazzy Don’t Mind”** “Courtney Barnett turned me on to Chastity Belt—they toured together on \[2017’s\] *I Used to Spend So Much Time Alone*. I liked their music immediately, but it creeps up on you because they sing about everyday things. Julia \[Shapiro’s\] lyrics are really emotional, sometimes funny but pretty real, and they have this cyclical playing that really resonates with me. I knew I wanted them on this song. Lydia \[Lund\] and Julia play guitar on it, and Annie \[Truscott\] plays violin on it, and they all sing. Annie, she\'s such an amazing musician, she’s got perfect pitch on the vocal. They all have an equally important role in the band, but it\'s her bass underneath it all that really gets that melancholy thing.” **“Wages of Sin”** “That\'s been one of my favorite songs of Springsteen’s for a long time—it’s got that melancholy, dark hypnotic thing. I knew I could sing the hell out of it and make it mine, but also stay true to his. Nobody\'s done that lately, but in the country music world that\'s what I like: There\'s a song that speaks to you, and often it\'s a deep cut or somebody hears a song written fresh off the presses, like a demo, and they\'re like, ‘That\'s my song.’ Well, this is that except it\'s been my song since my mid-twenties, and now here I am at 42. We got it. We nailed it. And Springsteen, I don\'t know—it\'d be hard for him to ignore it. He\'d have to make a conscious decision to ignore it. Something tells me him and Obama are going to be enjoying it soon.” **“Stuffed Leopard”** “It’s funny because I felt like ‘Wages of Sin’ was a centerpiece, and I wanted it to fade out. But then ‘Stuffed Leopard’ just crept up on me, and I realized I didn\'t fingerpick throughout the whole record. Lyrically, you\'re just looking at stuff around the house, and you\'re just clarifying it’s a toy, not a taxidermy leopard. Yeah, it\'s just a fingerpicker, man. What can I tell you? Can\'t help it.”

Latto (Alyssa Michelle Stephens) started rapping at 10, won Jermaine Dupri’s *The Rap Game* at 17, and released her debut album, *Queen of Da Souf*, at 21. Now 23, with a new rap moniker (dropping the controversial Mu- at the front of her title), she’s back with her sophomore LP, recorded across two years in Miami, LA, and Atlanta. “I’m reintroducing myself to the world on a clean slate,” she tells Apple Music. “I was adamant about its versatility, standing out as an artist—not just a female, but an artist in general.” And she’s accomplished that, with A-list collaborators (Lil Wayne and Childish Gambino on “Sunshine,” the Pharrell Williams-produced “Real One”), hard-as-hell empowerment bangers (“It’s Givin,” “Trust No Bitch”), and surprising sonic detours (Tom Tom Club’s “Genius of Love” sample on her biggest track to date, “Big Energy”). “I hope people hear the passion,” she says of *777*, which she named as a reference to God and the lottery —“hitting the jackpot” in two different ways. “I’m serious about what I do. My heart is really in the music.” Below, she walks Apple Music through the album, track-by-track. **“777 Pt. 1” and “777 Pt. 2”** “I wanted to set the tone of the album. I knew the intro was going to be something very unique, heavy punch lines, very aggressive—real rapper aesthetic. I actually recorded ‘Pt. 2’ first, and as soon as I did that one, I knew that was the intro. Then, months after, I ended up doing a special \[song\] with Sonny Digital, what is now ‘777 Pt. 1.’ It gave me intro vibes, but I didn’t want to scrap the other intro that I already had.” **“Wheelie” (feat. 21 Savage)** “\[21 Savage and I\] already had a relationship because of my previous album. We had a song called ‘Pull Up.’ When I heard ‘Wheelie,’ after I did the first verse, I’m like, ‘I don’t even want to do the second verse,’ so I’m thinking of people that would be perfect for that sound. It reminded me of ‘Pull Up,’ as far as that sticky, choppy, catchy flow. He put the second verse on there, sent it right back. That’s Atlanta culture, strip-club culture—that’s the ratchet song, the turn-up song on the album.“ **“Big Energy”** “I did this one in LA. When I walked in the session, my A&R were talking about this beat that they wanted to play for me. It felt nostalgic, it felt big and super mainstream, commercial for me. I wanted to really just challenge myself. I was trying to catch the flow and figure out my tone on the beat for a week straight until I got it. And by the time I got it, I was like, ‘I think this is special.’” **“Sunshine” (feat. Lil Wayne and Childish Gambino)** “I still can’t even believe that I got them both on the song. I had originally recorded it as a solo song, but I felt like it was bigger than me. I wanted a feature on it. So, I’m thinking out loud. I’m thinking of very ‘artistic’ artists. I want somebody who has a universal sound and someone who can go more in-depth and play on the word ‘sunshine.’ Who is the clever rapper? I’m thinking of these names and I’m shooting for the stars. And to my surprise, both of them did the song request, which is like huge, huge, huge. I’m still a new artist. I’m from Atlanta, so Childish is extra special, and I just grew up on Wayne.” **“Like a Thug” (feat. Lil Durk)** “‘Like a Thug’ was one of the ones that I had been sleeping on it. I have had it in the vault since 2020. I just never gave up on the song. That’s a different sound for me, but I knew it had some special components to it, too. Come around to this year, and I rerecord it, fix it up, change a bar here and there. It’s so pretty, super radio, and I wanted it to still have edginess—that raw, uncut feel. Lil Durk, in my opinion, kills all the slow songs; he features on these slow R&B songs, girl songs. He eats them up. To my surprise, he did it, no questions asked.\" **“It’s Givin”** “In my opinion, it’s the sassy, girl-power song on the album. It’s so fun. That’s a girl anthem. When you making your videos on Instagram, walking in your heels, and you ready to go to the club—makeup done, hair done, nails done—this is the song. This is the song you going to be playing, adding behind your videos and stuff. It’s just boss bitch, bad bitch energy.” **“Stepper” (feat. Nardo Wick)** “‘Stepper’ was another one of those that I had originally in mind as a solo song. I actually freestyled this song—I was in the booth, just going part to part, punching in; it was just getting more aggressive. I was like, ‘You know what? I feel like I need a male to offset my energy. I feel like I hear Nardo Wick on this.’ I’m a fan of his music. Then I found out we was labelmates, so I’m like, ‘Oh, y’all got to make this happen.’ Nardo jumped on there and when I heard his verse, I fell in love. This song, from jump, I never second-guessed it.” **“Trust No Bitch”** “‘Trust No Bitch’ is my personal favorite. Sitting in the studio one day, it’s close to album wrap-up time. I’m just seeing what else I have left in me. It’s just me and the engineer. I’m going through beats and I’m not finding anything that’s jumping out at me. Soon as I played this beat, I sent it to the engineer, like, ‘Pull it up right now. I’m going in the booth.’ The aggression literally was just flowing out of my mouth. And it’s a buildup of all my experiences—I’m growing up as a woman and an artist at the same time. So, I think it’s just a buildup of all the relationships and friendships that I’ve been through that make people skate on thin ice around me. Everybody can’t be trusted.“ **“Bussdown” (feat. Kodak Black)** “I recorded that song in Miami. One of my A&Rs, they had a relationship with \[Kodak’s\] engineer. I wasn’t mad at the idea at all. So, I gave them the green light to send it over to him, and he sent the verse back the next day. He was super excited to do it. I fell in love with the verse.\" **“Soufside”** “‘Soufside’ came about because I never wanted to go too mainstream or commercial with my music. I never wanted to get away from my roots and the sound that made me who I am. So, after I dropped ‘Big Energy,’ I was very adamant about dropping another song that offset it a little bit, just so people know that I’m not forgetting where I came from. ‘Soufside’ is like, ‘OK, I got all these new eyes on me. “Big Energy” is bubbling and it’s reeling in a new fanbase, so let me tell these people who I am, where I’m from, and how I get down.’” **“Sleep Sleep”** “On the verse, I did a flow that I had never done before. For that one, I just set the lights in the studio to a moody light. There wasn’t any yellow or white lights in the studio or the booth. I’m literally just feeling things about what goes down in the bedroom.” **“Real One”** “Pharrell produced ‘Real One.’ I could not believe that he even wanted to work with me. I pulled up on him for a week straight and we cut five, six songs. This was my favorite out of the songs that we did. I definitely couldn’t *not* put a Pharrell-produced song on my album. I think it’s just one of those songs that girls can relate to. Men make mistakes, and sometimes they don’t really realize what they lost or realize what they had.”

What better vessel for Lil Durk’s most personal raps to date than an album named for the address of his beloved grandmother’s home? “7220, that’s where I went through it,” Durk says on the album’s “Headtaps.” “Like my first life experience, know what I mean.” He then goes on to rap about the time he wished he could watch cartoons with his children when he was locked up and how news of a cousin’s passing once sent him into a state of disbelief. Durk has seen more than his fair share of loss over the course of his young life, and *7220* is peppered with references to the many friends and family members he’s already outlived. Music-making has functioned as therapy for nearly every MC who’s ever picked up a mic, but you can’t help but feel for Durk listening to him talk about a real-life home invasion he suffered on “Shootout @ My Crib,” remind listeners that tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone on “Love Dior Banks,” or live out a revenge fantasy for friend and collaborator King Von on “AHHH HA.” Guests on *7220* include stars like Future, Gunna, Summer Walker, and, most peculiarly, country singer Morgen Wallen, who more than anything else serve as emblems of how far the MC has come since his childhood address.

The four-piece band exude all the chintzy glamor of a hyper-stylized ’70s B-movie: its members hail from across the globe (Uruguay, Australia, Sweden, London), style themselves like mid-century French chanteuses, and are mainly here to vibe-out, man. But their debut album is seriously captivating: a breezy, all-instrumental tour through retro global psychedelia, from cumbia to Turkish psych to scuzzy surf-rock, furnished by vintage synths and produced by Franz Ferdinand’s Alex Kapranos. These are adventurous, evocative jams, calling to mind spaghetti western standoffs and oversized margaritas; there’s also an homage to Lindsay Lohan’s VIP beach resort, naturally (“Lindsay Goes to Mykonos”).

The centerpiece and title track of Mary J. Blige’s 14th album is an emotional display of self-love—the kind of song that, after three decades of heartbreak anthems, feels like the soft landing spot she’s been searching for this entire time. “All the times that I hated myself, all the times that I wanted to be someone else, all the times that I should’ve been gentle with me,” she sings in the second verse. “I wake up every morning and tell myself, ‘Good morning gorgeous.’” Across the album, her voice sounds just as convincing as it has all these years, contoured in soul and grit. Her lyrics, though, beautifully reflect her life experiences, evolved and brimming with wisdom. There are no histrionics to be found here; she knows what she wants and will put up with nothing less. On songs like “Love Without the Heartbreak” (“I’m so got’damn sick of the pain,” she cries on the hook) and “Enough” (“You can’t see what you got at home, you dead wrong not to fight for it,” goes that chorus), she sounds genuinely fed up, far from the wounded defeat of those beloved earlier releases. It’s no small feat to have a career and catalog as long and storied as Mary J.’s, and here she reveals some of the secret. Her brand of R&B is uniquely hers, ebbing and flowing with the waves of her own life; here, her take on love feels honest and lived-in without the pretense of autobiography. *Good Morning Gorgeous* stands up as not just a possible blueprint for artistic longevity, but also a model for how to love yourself even when others have failed to.

Miranda Lambert hits the road on *Palomino*, her eighth solo album and the follow-up to her 2019 Grammy-winning LP *Wildcard*. Across 15 tracks, Lambert treks all over the United States, spinning colorful yarns of a rambling life out on the road. “We go to 36 different locations in this record and meet all kinds of characters that we made up,” Lambert tells Apple Music. “Or it might have been characters we have all met in our travels, put into these songs. I\'ve never written with that much purpose.” Lambert sets the freewheeling tone with opener “Actin’ Up,” a swampy ode to bad behavior. Tracks like “Scenes” and “Tourist” are some of Lambert’s most image-rich material yet, while “Music City Queen”—a collaboration with pioneering New Wavers The B-52’s—is easily one of her most fun. Some songs, like standout “Geraldene,” previously appeared in demo form on Lambert’s critically acclaimed *The Marfa Tapes*, a 2021 collaborative LP with Jack Ingram and Jon Randall, and take on new life thanks to thoughtful production from Lambert, Randall, and frequent collaborator Luke Dick. Below, Lambert shares insight into a handful of tracks on *Palomino*. **“Geraldene”** “She\'s everyone. I feel like we\'ve all known one or been one at one point or the other. I just had that title because I was watching *Heartworn Highways* like a million times, and in that movie, Townes’ dog is named Geraldine. And Geraldine\'s this German shepherd, and I was like, ‘That\'s a cool name.’” **“Country Money”** “Aaron Raitiere pulls me in on a write one day. He\'s like, ‘Hey, come write with me and Mikey Reaves.’ I had never written with him before, and I was like, ‘Okay, cool, that\'d be different,’ and we wrote ‘Country Money.’ It fit right into the vibe of this road trip we were taking. So it all just happened easily, which makes me a little nervous because I\'m like, ‘Okay, when\'s the other shoe going to drop?’” **“Carousel”** “That is a real feeling. We joined the circus in one way or another, and we\'re so lucky to be part of it. I mean, I\'m like, ‘If I ever lived before, I think I was either best friends with Calamity Jane or riding an elephant somewhere.’ Truly, that\'s what I was doing, because this is as close as I could get to those two things, what I do for a living. I miss so many weddings and funerals and baby showers and important moments of people that are important to me, and of my own, just because I\'m rolling. But I think ‘Carousel’ puts this romantic spin on it where it\'s like, ‘It\'s okay. There\'s this whole other life that can happen, too.’”

Mitski wasn’t sure she’d ever make it to her sixth album. After the release of 2018’s standout and star-making record *Be the Cowboy*, she simply had nothing left to give. “I think I was just tired, and I felt like I needed a break and I couldn\'t do it anymore,” she tells Apple Music. “I just told everyone on my team that I just needed to stop it for a while. I think everyone could tell I was already at max capacity.” And so, in 2019, she withdrew. But if creating became painful, not doing it at all—eventually—felt even worse. “I was feeling a deep surge of regret because I was like, ‘Oh my god, what did I do?’” she says. “I let go of this career that I had worked so hard to get and I finally got, and I just left it all behind. I might have made the greatest mistake of my life.” Released two years after that self-imposed hiatus, *Laurel Hell* may mark Mitski’s official return, but she isn’t exactly all in. Darkness descends as she moves back into her own musical world (“Let’s step carefully into the dark/Once we’re in I’ll remember my way around” are this album’s first words), and it feels like she almost always has one eye on her escape route. Such melancholic tendencies shouldn’t come as a surprise: Mitski Miyawaki is an artist who has always delved deep into her experiences as she attempts to understand them—and help us understand our own. More unexpected, though, is the glittering, ’80s-inspired synth-pop she often embraces, from “The Only Heartbreaker”—whose opening drums throw back to a-ha’s “Take On Me,” and against which Mitski explores being the “bad guy” in a relationship—to the bouncy, cinematic “Should’ve Been Me” and the intense “Love Me More,” on which she cries out for affection, from a lover and from her audience, against racing synths. “I think at first, the songs were more straightforwardly rock or just more straightforwardly sad,” she recalls. “But as the pandemic progressed, \[frequent collaborator\] Patrick \[Hyland\] and I just stopped being able to stay in that sort of sad feeling. We really needed something that would make us dance, that would make us feel hopeful. We just couldn’t stand the idea of making another sad, dreary album.” This being a Mitski record, there are of course still moments of insular intensity, from “Everyone” to “Heat Lightning,” a brooding meditation on insomnia. And underneath all that protective pop, this is an album about darkness and endings—of relationships, possibly of her career. And by its finish, Mitski still isn’t promising to stick around. “I guess this is the end, I’ll have to learn to be somebody else,” she says on “I Guess,” before simply fading away on final track “That’s Our Lamp.”

We don’t typically look to pop albums to answer our cultural moment, let alone to meet the soul hunger left in the wake of global catastrophe. But occasionally, an artist proves the form more malleable and capacious than we knew. With Laurel Hell, Mitski cements her reputation as an artist in possession of such power - capable of using her talent to perform the alchemy that turns our most savage and alienated experiences into the very elixir that cures them. Her critically beloved last album, Be the Cowboy, built on the breakout acclaim of 2016’s Puberty 2 and launched her from cult favorite to indie star. She ascended amid a fever of national division, and the grind of touring and pitfalls of increased visibility influenced her music as much as her spirit. Like the mountain laurels for this new album is named, public perception, like the intoxicating prism of the internet, can offer an alluring façade that obscures a deadly trap—one that tightens the more you struggle. Exhausted by this warped mirror, and our addiction to false binaries, she began writing songs that stripped away the masks and revealed the complex and often contradictory realities behind them. She wrote many of these songs during or before 2018, while the album finished mixing in May 2021. It is the longest span of time Mitski has ever spent on a record, and a process that concluded amid a radically changed world. She recorded Laurel Hell with her longtime producer Patrick Hyland throughout the isolation of a global pandemic, during which some of the songs “slowly took on new forms and meanings, like seed to flower.” Sometimes it’s hard to see the change when you’re the agent of it, but for the lucky rest of us, Mitski has written a soundtrack for transformation, a map to the place where vulnerability and resilience, sorrow and delight, error and transcendence can all sit within our humanity, can all be seen as worthy of acknowledgment, and ultimately, love.

“You can’t come get this work until it’s dry. I made this album while the streets were closed during the pandemic. Made entirely with the greatest producers of all time—Pharrell and Ye. ONLY I can get the best out of these guys. ENJOY!!” —Pusha T, in an exclusive message provided to Apple Music

The second album from Raveena Aurora is a conceptual epic whose protagonist, the titular Asha, is an ancient Punjabi princess living on an alien planet, where she is bestowed with advanced spiritual intelligence (as one does). However complicated that sounds, the Indian American artist unfurls the narrative with grace and subtlety, her feather-light falsetto floating over South Asian-inspired percussion and dreamy R&B and disco. Vince Staples drops by for a verse on the slinky, Timbaland-esque “Secret,” but the album’s most swoon-worthy moment is “Asha’s Kiss,” a collaboration with Asha Puthli—the Mumbai-born jazz-fusion singer whose “Space Talk” you’ve probably heard sampled in any number of hip-hop classics—that feels like an afternoon daydream. If that doesn’t get you in the mood for reverie, the 13-minute guided meditation (“Let Your Breath Become a Flower”) that closes the album should do the trick.

“One more time, for whatever reason, the universe saw fit to inject this band with another giant shot of plasma,” Red Hot Chili Peppers frontman Anthony Kiedis tells Apple Music. “Left to our own devices, we probably would\'ve withered on the vine somewhere along the line, as we all do at some point. But it wasn\'t quite time for us to do that yet.” The shot of “plasma” that Kiedis is referring to is, in large part, the (second) return of guitarist John Frusciante, after roughly a decade away. You can immediately hear the difference—in the aqueous funk of “Poster Child,” the stadium-ready swings of “These Are the Ways,” or the acoustic phrasing of “Tangelo,” the album’s delicate closer. “It\'s so clear when he writes and when he plays,” Kiedis says of his bandmate, whose guitar work proved galvanizing on career highlights like 1991’s *Blood Sugar Sex Magik* and 1999’s *Californication*. “It\'s really fun to listen to because it’s sound and emotion and color. He\'s not trying to play the right notes—he\'s just trying to play the notes that are truly him.” Also back in the fold: producer and honorary fifth Chili Pepper Rick Rubin, who—absent on 2016’s *The Getaway*—accompanied Kiedis to Kauai for a songwriting retreat that was unexpectedly extended by lockdown. “Nobody could come, nobody could leave,” Kiedis says. “It was six months of being in the land that time forgot.” For the five of them, the aim was simple: Be together, play together, and, in Kiedis’ words, “write and write and write and write. Maybe we\'ll keep all of it, maybe we\'ll keep some of it. The process that it had to go through to become this record was very democratic in the sense that we all voted, including Rick.” The result is 17 songs that pay tribute to the veteran outfit’s chemistry and affection for one another, a magnetic coming-together that’s apparent anytime they play. “We\'re older and different, and enter *Unlimited Love*, a really fun and wild experience,” Kiedis says. “We accept each other and we love each other and there is an endless friendship going on there—which is not to say that we want to hang out every day. It\'s nice to go away from it and come back to it, go away from it and come back. But it never dies.” Here, Kiedis takes us inside a few highlights from the album. **“Not the One”** “This idea came out from ‘I think I know who you are, but maybe I don\'t. You think you know who I am, but maybe you don\'t.’ Especially in intimate relationships, we all present something and people always have an idea, but what would happen if we just showed each other our very worst from the very start? Like, not trying to impress each other, or just ‘I’m kind of a fuck-up and here\'s my weak suit and my flaws.’ And then we would never have to discover that down the line and go, ‘What?’” **“Poster Child”** “I didn\'t think that the music from ‘Poster Child’ was going to survive, because Flea brought in two painfully funky basslines on the same day, and they weren\'t similar, but the way I was hearing it was like, ‘I have to choose. My plate\'s too full.’ And so I chose the other one, which ended up becoming a song called ‘Peace and Love’ that didn\'t make the record. The one that I thought was the superior funk was not the superior funk, and then it just took me a long time of living with this music before I found my place. I can\'t say that any of them were really a struggle or a battle, but it’s the one that I was surprised came to life.” **“These Are the Ways”** “That\'s a song that John brought—the arrangement and a version of that melody. I’m never able to recreate his melodies perfectly—he\'s just on a different melodic level—so I usually put it through a simplification machine. I didn\'t overthink it. It was the first idea that came to my mind when I heard that arrangement, which is very bombastic and almost like a huge classical orchestra, exploding and then going way back. It was a reflection on life in America, but not a good or a bad reflection—just, this is it. We might be bloated, we might be overloaded with more than we can handle, and let\'s just take a step back and rethink it just a little bit. But it’s not ‘this is wrong and that\'s right.’ It\'s just ‘this is who we\'ve become.’”

Unlimited Love is Red Hot Chili Peppers' twelfth studio album, released on April 1, 2022 and coming six years after their previous full-length effort, The Getaway. The record also marks the return of two key figures in the band’s history: guitarist John Frusciante, who re-joined RHCP in 2019 and scores his first contributions since the band’s 2006 LP Stadium Arcadium, and long-time producer Rick Rubin, who returned to work with the group after a whopping eleven years (since I’m With You came out in 2011). RHCP started recording and working on the album in 2021, at Rubin’s Shangri-La studio in Malibu: a initial selection of around 100 tracks was trimmed down to slightly less than 50 recorded songs, 17 of which would eventually make the cut for the album’s final tracklist, while “Nerve Flip” would be the bonus track added to the Japanese Import of the album.

“I literally don’t take breaks,” ROSALÍA tells Apple Music. “I feel like, to work at a certain level, to get a certain result, you really need to sacrifice.” Judging by *MOTOMAMI*, her long-anticipated follow-up to 2018’s award-winning and critically acclaimed *EL MAL QUERER*, the mononymous Spanish singer clearly put in the work. “I almost feel like I disappear because I needed to,” she says of maintaining her process in the face of increased popularity and attention. “I needed to focus and put all my energy and get to the center to create.” At the same time, she found herself drawing energy from bustling locales like Los Angeles, Miami, and New York, all of which she credits with influencing the new album. Beyond any particular source of inspiration that may have driven the creation of *MOTOMAMI*, ROSALÍA’s come-up has been nothing short of inspiring. Her transition from critically acclaimed flamenco upstart to internationally renowned star—marked by creative collaborations with global tastemakers like Bad Bunny, Billie Eilish, and Oneohtrix Point Never, to name a few—has prompted an artistic metamorphosis. Her ability to navigate and dominate such a wide array of musical styles only raised expectations for her third full-length, but she resisted the idea of rushing things. “I didn’t want to make an album just because now it’s time to make an album,” she says, citing that several months were spent on mixing and visuals alone. “I don’t work like that.” Some three years after *EL MAL QUERER*, ROSALÍA’s return feels even more revolutionary than that radical breakout release. From the noisy-yet-referential leftfield reggaetón of “SAOKO” to the austere and *Yeezus*-reminiscent thump of “CHICKEN TERIYAKI,” *MOTOMAMI* makes the artist’s femme-forward modus operandi all the more clear. The point of view presented is sharp and political, but also permissive of playfulness and wit, a humanizing mix that makes the album her most personal yet. “I was like, I really want to find a way to allow my sense of humor to be present,” she says. “It’s almost like you try to do, like, a self-portrait of a moment of who you are, how you feel, the way you think.\" Things get deeper and more unexpected with the devilish-yet-austere electronic punk funk of the title track and the feverish “BIZCOCHITO.” But there are even more twists and turns within, like “HENTAI,” a bilingual torch song that charms and enraptures before giving way to machine-gun percussion. Add to that “LA FAMA,” her mystifying team-up with The Weeknd that fuses tropical Latin rhythms with avant-garde minimalism, and you end up with one of the most unique artistic statements of the decade so far.

Chicago rapper/producer Saba’s first full-length since 2018’s critically acclaimed *CARE FOR ME* looks existentially inward instead of projecting outward. Whereas its predecessor was often perceived through the lens of grief, with his cousin John Walt’s tragic death weighing considerably on the proceedings, his third album explodes such listener myopia with a thoughtful and thought-provoking expression of American Blackness. Though its title might suggest scarcity on a surface level, these 14 songs exude richness in their textures and complexity in their themes. “Stop That” imbues its gauzy trap beat with self-motivating logic, while “Come My Way” gets to reminiscing over a laidback R&B groove. His choice of collaborators demonstrates a carefully curated approach, with 6LACK and Smino bringing a sense of community to the funk-infused “Still” and fellow Chicago native G Herbo helping to unravel multigenerational programming on the gripping “Survivor’s Guilt.” The presence of hip-hop elder statesman Black Thought on the title track only serves to further validate Saba’s experiences, the connection implicitly showing solidarity with sentiments and values of the preceding songs.

On the cover of Sharon Van Etten’s sixth album *We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong*, the singer-songwriter gazes into the mid-distance, the sky behind her red-hot from wildfires. The home she stands before is her own in LA, where she witnessed blazing fires up close in 2020 and sheltered with her family during the global pandemic. It is also where *We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong* was crafted, the album becoming Van Etten’s attempt to make sense of the pandemic years, our unequal world, and the shaky future she’s raising her son into. “Up the whole night/Undefined/Can’t stop thinking ’bout peace and war,” she sings on “Anything,” a soaring ballad on which she also explores the numbness induced by the monotony of the pandemic. But *We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong* isn’t just about the collective experience of recent events. Here, Van Etten is also a mother assuaging guilt that her career keeps her away from home (“I need my job/Please don’t hold that against me,” she sings to her son on “Home to Me”), a partner trying to keep intimacy alive (“Come Back,” a track reminiscent of Van Etten’s “Like I Used To” collaborator and indie peer Angel Olsen), and a citizen of the world who’ll do what she can to make it a better place: “Let’s go march/I’ll go downtown,” she sings on the shimmering, anthemic “I’ll Try.” There’s much of what you might expect from a Van Etten record: acoustic guitars, lonesome minor-chord vocals, driving drums, and the jagged electro-pop of 2019’s *Remind Me Tomorrow* (see the hooky “Headspace” or the self-forgiveness anthem “Mistakes”). But despite it being constructed in a shrunken world, this is also an album on which one of America’s foremost singer-songwriters pushes her sound—and voice—to astonishing new heights. That perhaps reaches a peak on “Born,” which begins as a slow-marching piano moment before exploding into a stop-you-in-your-tracks album centerpiece on which Van Etten’s vocals sound not unlike a celestial choir amid swirling synths and cascading, cathartic drums. Like many of this record’s tracks, “Born” is gargantuan and rich, but elsewhere things are more simple. On the raw, delicate “Darkish,” for example, Van Etten includes the birdsong she (and so many of us) heard during lockdown, a poignant reminder of the quietest days of the pandemic. *We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong* might have been shaped by moments of crisis, but it isn’t colored with despair. Just as something like a smile hovers across her expression on *We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong*’s cover, optimism breaks through across this record. “Better stay light/I’m looking for a way,” she sings on opener “Darkness Fades,” before offering her ultimate worldview on “Darkish”: “It’s not dark/It’s only darkish.” We’ve been going about this all wrong, Van Etten seems to be saying, but there’s still time for that to change.

Sharon Van Etten has always been the kind of artist who helps people make sense of the world around them, and her sixth album, We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong, concerns itself with how we feel, mourn, and reclaim our agency when we think the world - or at least, our world - might be falling apart. How do we protect the things most precious to us from destructive forces beyond our control? How do we salvage something worthwhile when it seems all is lost? And if we can’t, or we don’t, have we loved as well as we could in the meantime? Did we try hard enough? In considering these questions and her own vulnerability in the face of them, Van Etten creates a stunning meditation on how life’s changes can be both terrifying and transformative. We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong articulates the beauty and power that can be rescued from our wreckages. We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong is as much a reflection on how we manage the ending of metaphorical worlds as we do the ending of actual ones: the twin flames of terror and unrelenting love that light up with motherhood; navigating the demands of partnership when your responsibilities have changed; the loss of center and safety that can come with leaving home; how the ghosts of our past can appear without warning in our present; feeling helpless with the violence and racism in the world; and yes, what it means when a global viral outbreak forces us to relinquish control of the things that have always made us feel so human, and seek new forms of connection to replace them. Since the release of Remind Me Tomorrow, Van Etten has collaborated with artists ranging from Courtney Barnett and Joshua Homme to Norah Jones and Angel Olsen. Earlier releases were covered by artists like Fiona Apple, Lucinda Williams, Big Red Machine and Idles, celebrating Sharon as a legendary songwriter from the very beginning. When the time came to return to her solo work, Van Etten reclaimed the reins, writing and producing the album in her new recording studio, custom built in her family’s Californian home. The more she faced – whether in new dangers emerging or old traumas resurfacing – the more tightly she held onto these songs and recordings, determined to work through grief by reasserting her power and staying squarely at the wheel of her next album. In fact, that interplay of loss and growth became a blueprint for what would become We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong. The artwork reflects that, too, inspired as much by Van Etten’s old life as her new one. “I wanted to convey that in an image with me walking away from it all” says Van Etten, “not necessarily brave, not necessarily sad, not necessarily happy…” We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong is intensely personal, exploring themes like motherhood, love, fear, what we can and can’t control, and what it means to be human in a world that is wracked by so much trauma. The track “Home To Me,” written about Van Etten’s son, uses the trademark “dark drums” of her previous work to invoke the sonic impression of a heartbeat. Synths grow in intensity, evoking the passing of time and the terror of what it means to have your child move inevitably toward independence, wanting to hold on to them tightly enough to protect them forever. In contrast, “Come Back” reflects on the desire to reconnect with a partner. Recalling all the optimism of love felt in its infancy, Van Etten begins with the plain beauty of just her voice and a guitar, building the arrangement alongside the call to “come back” to anyone who has lost their way, be it from another person or from themselves. Hovering between darkness and light, “Born” is an exploration of the self that exists when all other labels - mother, partner, friend - are stripped back. Throughout, and as always, we are at the mercy of Van Etten’s voice: the way it loops and arcs, the startling and emotive warmth of it. What started as a certain magic in Van Etten’s early recordings has grown into confidence, clarity and wisdom, even as she sings with the vulnerable beauty that has become her trademark. Nowhere is that truer than on “Mistakes,” where Van Etten creates a defiant anthem to the mistakes we make, and to everything we gain from them. Unlike Van Etten’s previous albums, there will be no songs off the album released prior to the record coming out. The ten tracks on We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong are designed to be listened to in order, all at once, so that a much larger story of hope, loss, longing and resilience can be told. This is, in itself, a subtle act of control, but in sharing these songs it remains an optimistic and generous one. There is darkness here but there is light too, and all of it is held together by Van Etten’s uncanny ability to both pierce the hearts of her listeners and make them whole again. Things are not dark, she reminds us, only darkish.

Spoon’s tenth album, Lucifer on the Sofa, is the band’s purest rock ’n roll record to date. Texas-made, it is the first set of songs that the quintet has put to tape in its hometown of Austin in more than a decade. Written and recorded over the last two years –both in and out of lockdown –these songs mark a shift toward something louder, wilder, and more full-color.

In the five years between Syd’s solo debut, *Fin*, and its follow-up, the singer-songwriter experienced her first major heartbreak. It upended her world right as our social lives were already contracting under the weight of the pandemic, giving her plenty of time to mourn and then heal. Most of the songs on *Broken Hearts Club*, despite its name, were written before that, when she was still swaddled in the bliss of deep, reciprocal love. What results is a conceptual evolution of romance and its subsequent unraveling, traced over the course of the album. “CYBAH” (as in “could you break a heart”—one of the few songs written after the fact) captures the ambivalence of catching feelings, as fear begins to give way to surrender. Warm fuzzy feelings abound. They\'re in the ecstasy of “Fast Car,” an ode to not-so-secret rendezvous and stolen kisses, and the sentimental delight of “Sweet” and “Control,” both emblems of infatuation transforming into safety and comfort. Around “Out Loud”—a gorgeous plea to be desired and adored without shame which becomes especially cogent through the voices of Syd and Kehlani, both of whom are gay—cracks begin to emerge, before the all-out shattering of “Goodbye My Love.” Love is a risk and deserves music that reflects as much, and likewise, within the space of *Broken Hearts Club*, Syd shows up more vulnerable than ever. The lilt of her voice shifts forward, front and center to sing the kind of lyrics that could only come from real-life inspiration. There\'s no hiding here. It may be her most personal album to date, but it resonates far beyond.