Latest album reviews from Pitchfork

The latest album from the long-running English band is one of their most sensuous and sunlit, playing on new shades of hope, love, and melancholy.

On singer-songwriter Caroline Sallee’s latest EP, everything is transitory—especially life itself.

The Alabama rapper’s second project of the year is a mixtape-length “First Day Out” that serves as a timestamp of this moment in his developing career.

The incarcerated Watts rapper’s latest is a loosely movie-themed collaboration with producer-of-the-moment Kenny Beats.

After freeing herself from a bad record deal, the multitalented R&B singer celebrates with an effortless LP that fully displays her range.

The loops and layers of the Berlin-based cellist’s solo album evoke resonant emotions that could afford to linger.

Kode9’s Hyperdub label celebrates its 15th anniversary by moving confidently beyond the London club music’s conventions.

The Buffalo trio’s Shady Records debut doesn’t sacrifice an ounce of their gritty and ruthless throwback aesthetic.

With their skate-punk shout-alongs and double-tapped guitar heroics, this D.C. duo embodies the sound of emo in 2019.

On his 14th album, Beck roams across a pleasant, gently psychedelic landscape looking for something new.

The cantankerous Smashing Pumpkin embraces his vision of country music, but the lightest, breeziest songs of his career come with their own peculiar Corganian paradox.

The rapper-producer’s third album answers the exhaustion of contemporary life online by stripping down and buttoning up, yielding a newly disciplined take on his trademark deep house.

This five-disc set, which includes concert footage, B-sides, and demos, delivers what box sets of this kind almost never do: the thrill of discovery.

The Toronto quartet writes lilting, throwback jangle-pop for the isolated and the underemployed.

Heavy on vocal processing and maximalist A. G. Cook production, the PC Music star’s first full-length can’t help feeling a little anticlimactic.

The New York electronic musician fashions an evocative tribute to Ursula K. LeGuin’s 1969 novel The Left Hand of Darkness, conjuring the flux of gender and desire in shape-shifting sounds.

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 Rolling Stones’ 1981 album, a blueprint for how to exist as an aging, internationally famous rock band.

Vince Staples, Ms. Lauryn Hill, Megan Thee Stallion, and more come together for the soundtrack to the modern-day Bonnie-and-Clyde parable, set against a backdrop of police brutality.

Mariah Carey, the cultural attaché of Christmas, offers a reissue of her 1994 album, which sounds as timeless as possible for music passed through the innocuous filters of mid-’90s adult pop.

Pieced together from four Merriweather Post Pavilion-era sets, this live album reinforces the weirdness of the band’s pop heyday.

On the latest installment of his mixtape series, the rapper/singer invites a truckload of guests to flip ’00s R&B hits.

On their psychedelic and virtuosic second album, the Denver quartet brings death metal to new and exalted places.

Five albums recorded in the late 1950s capture the skill and the frailty of an acclaimed jazz trumpeter on the brink of disaster.

On their second album as a duo, Detroit techno titan Robert Hood and his daughter Lyric sharpen their focus on the fusion of house music and gospel.

Inside producer Jack Hamill’s sci-fi odysseys, Detroit futurism meets ’80s disco in the neon glow of the chillout room.