Though it feels like a mere sample of what's to come, the Memphis rapper's new EP presents her as a singular talent using her instrument as a megaphone for provocation and inspiration.
On the startlingly direct Spirituals, and in headline-grabbing rebukes of music's trickle-down economy, Santi White is what she's always been: a forward-thinking alternative to pop's here and now.
The duo trades threats and out-of-pocket disses of virtually everyone they've ever encountered on a new album. It's ugly, but it mostly works as a more targeted, focused version of Drake's whole deal.
The Charlotte rapper's new album, Laughing so Hard, it Hurts, is more direct in thought and intention than his debut, more open and vulnerable, letting his observations guide his insights.
On Swift's 10th and most challenging album, she and producer Jack Antonoff push her voice in new directions, rethinking the sonic rhetoric of first-person storytelling and shaking off old habits.
Forget what F. Scott Fitzgerald said about American lives and second acts, Gibbs is on his third or fourth. $$$ is a rewarding listen that sometimes labors under the weight of a forced progression.
The band's first new record in nine years confronts environmental ruin and pandemic-era isolation, but ends at a vantage of hope — one that sounds like it took all the intervening time to reach.
Kurt Wagner's Nashville collective has always been an expression of absolute possibility. The Bible, his best album in a decade, points that instinct at life's most inescapable truth.
On his debut solo album, Sim — best known as a member of The xx — takes inspiration from horror movie villains on songs that look for humanity in the aspects of our identity that society rejects.
On Write Your Name In Pink, the Alaskan singer-songwriter turns a compassionate eye towards his memories, threading together small moments to reveal moving stories about love, addiction and growth.
