Latest album reviews from Pitchfork

Phish’s instinctive new studio album is a pleasant surprise, a small joy, and an unlikely course correction.

Long considered an outlier in her catalog, Nina Simone’s newly reissued 1982 album is an intimate and immense portrait, a culmination of Nina Simone’s frustrations molded into a jarring personal statement.

The Nashville star blends genres with charm and style on his first new album in five years, a marker of what modern commercial country can do at its heights.

The Chicago singer and multi-instrumentalist leaps fearlessly between voices and sounds. His constant dissatisfaction leaves no question that his true colors are loud and clashing.

Even as the Floridian crooner becomes a breakout star, his music remains bleak and filled with pain.

The L.A. producer’s music is a fog of samples and clips warped into peculiar shapes that defy recognition but prickle with familiarity, like memories from a past life.

Lorely Rodriguez’s third album, largely written and produced alone, refocuses her voice into an emotionally and aesthetically rich album of heartbreak, family history, and pop delights.

The Perth punks are more interested in recording immediate, energetic punk rock than becoming experimentalists, and they’ve certainly nailed the former.

Three years after his 2017 opus Drunk, Stephen Bruner returns with more fleet-fingered jams and abstracted musings, this time a little more unpolished.

The Detroit singer-songwriter’s second album is sparser, lonelier, and more patient, allowing the candor of her lyrics to shine through.

At their best, this Montreal quartet locate the aching sincerity in pop clichés.

The Chicago guitarist and sound artist tucks worlds of deep feelings into these four immersive pieces, which seem to shift with your own mood.

The London band’s deeply self-aware debut is worthy of being taken seriously even when it’s not serious.

Yaeji’s first full-length mixtape is a subtle, more insular turn for the producer. It plays like a self-issued challenge to strip away the fluorescence, to find what’s underneath pop catharsis.

The electro-pop duo’s first album in five years muses on bodies, blood, and a girl’s coming of age; it benefits from the group’s newfound musical maturity and more exacting editorial eye.

Angus Finlayson’s first LP is shot through with concussive kicks, writhing basslines, and finely tooled drum work. But even at their most powerful, these songs are remarkably nimble.

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 Herbie Hancock’s jazz-funk masterpiece, a celebration of all that is modern and ancient.

The celebrity socialite’s alluringly empty 2006 debut gets a vinyl reissue. It’s a concept album whose concept is: What if Paris Hilton made an album?

A posthumous album showcases the late Atlanta rapper’s head-spinning dexterity without attempting anything more than that, both grounded and limited by its avoidance of the usual pomp.

The second album from the Michigan emo band feels like a product of another era: itching to cross over, but without anywhere to cross over to.

The Swedish electro-pop group’s first album for Ninja Tune is a welcome departure, finally infusing their own studio work with the creative energy of their collaborative sessions.

The Chicago band’s second album strikes a balance between the spartan chaos of noise rock and the soft melodicism of bedroom pop.

The iconoclastic artist moves to a plush and magisterial kind of rock music for a gratifying and intense record, one whose pleasures are viscerally immediate.

More than 30 years into their career, the Australian experimental trio can still make the mundane feel miraculous.

This comeback album, assisted by Scott Avett, feels both charmingly at ease and refreshingly ambitious, grappling with life’s big questions over understated, easygoing production.