Latest album reviews from Pitchfork

Each Sunday, Pitchfork takes an in-depth look at a significant album from the past, and any record not in our archives is eligible. Today, we revisit Beverly Glenn-Copeland’s masterwork from 1986, a hermetic and wondrous new age album that contains worlds beyond worlds.

The first compilation from electronic Bangkok label More Rice is a solid collection of chugging dancefloor weaponry from South Korea, the Philippines, Thailand and beyond.

On her first album in a decade, the Dominican iconoclast delivers an explosive comeback full of horror scenes, metal sounds, and post-colonial politics.

The American DJ, known for her breathtaking, hyperkinetic club anthems, delivers a wide-ranging, shape-shifting set of techno, breakbeats, and leftfield pop.

The Japanese trumpeter’s dense and cosmic sixth album blends jazz with Afrobeat, hip-hop, neo-soul, and funk.

The minimalist composer-performer’s slow, patient works demand and reward close attention; give them time, and their secrets will rise slowly to the surface.

The veteran British composer, improviser, author, and scholar assembles a dreamlike, mercurial album of sonic collage that doubles as a philosophical treatise on sound and memory.

The debut from this instrumental trio has the air of a purifying ritual, blending psychedelia with a loose-limbed minimalism.

The Ontario musician caps a prolific year with his tenth album of 2020: a rip-roaring rock record that draws on a hodgepodge of styles and sounds, from blustery horns to roadtrip folk-rock.

Joined by players including percussionist Mauro Refosco and guitarist Dave Harrington, the New York bassist takes atmospheric cues from classic ECM productions while evoking relaxed, low-key vibes.

An eight-disc box set tells the complete story of the talented yet star-crossed UK folk-rock duo, tying up loose ends and illuminating areas previously shrouded in darkness.

On the latest in a series of EPs, the unique Atlanta rapper creates his own cocoon in which to hone his craft.

In 1973, Goats Head Soup marked the end of the Stones’ imperial era, capturing them as they transitioned from the World’s Greatest Rock‘n’Roll Band to just a really good one.

On his debut mixtape, the Brooklyn drill rapper performs with hungry urgency, as if prosperity is around the corner for everyone except him.

An all-star cast pays tribute to the glam-rock icon, but their interpretations too often read angst and torpor in place of the singer’s pomp and frivolity.

The masterful R&B singer returns with more creative control on a project where her voice, style, and swagger are well preserved.

The underrated titan of West Coast gangsta rap stays true to his classic formula on an LP featuring guest verses from spiritual descendants Conway the Machine and Dave East.

As though channeling supernatural energies, the Colombian experimental musician uses eerie electronics and vocal treatments to imbue unsettling world-building with a mystical sort of grace.

Following her brash and confounding debut, the singer-producer slows everything down, recreating the sparse magnetism of her live show.

Producer Bryant Canelo’s latest album is filled with ambient memories, distorted house skeletons, and spoken-word rants. It’s not so much exhausting as it is exhaustive.

On his latest album, the Buffalo rapper and member of the tough-talking trio Griselda makes his first bid for a bigger audience.

The Britrock survivors’ first album in 11 years is the sound of men in their 50s channeling the memories of their teens through the music of their 30s.

In 1995, the indie rock trio lurched headlong into its own sound. Now, newly reissued on vinyl, the pop-focused and densely referential Electr-O-Pura remains a monument in the band’s vast catalog.

Each Sunday, Pitchfork takes an in-depth look at a significant album from the past, and any record not in our archives is eligible. Today, we revisit the Breeders’ debut album, a warped and indispensable piece of the ’90s alternative canon.

On his third album created primarily with modular synthesizers, the longtime Sea and Cake frontman makes fascinatingly abstracted music about the act of listening itself.