Craig Jenkins

Renaissance, a love letter to Black queer innovators, comes at a precarious moment in history.

“It’s a sore spot for me. I ain’t even lying.”

Honestly, Nevermind is frictionless — a geographical shift ushered in as comfortingly as possible.

The new album feels like a calculated retrenchment, a heaping pile of everything you want from Arcade Fire.

“I am trying to be the Martin Scorsese of street rap.”

The Queen of Funk was eternally misunderstood in her boundary-breaking.

If you traveled off the beaten path, you came away with an embarrassment of music riches.

His latest solo work is, in part, a dispatch from Iceland.

The potential for the Astroworld tragedy to get charged to the game is very real.

Even if “Easy On Me” resembles, on its surface, something old and familiar.

Her fifth album suggests the intention was never to leave country behind but rather to devise a more balanced and varied approach to it.

If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power is proof Trent Reznor could have a pop career if he wanted. It’s also the best Halsey album.

Independent of the Netflix special, the songs of Inside feel strangely vital.

“Solar Power” feels more like a carefree vacation update than the blockbuster comeback we’ve been anticipating since the simpler times.

The stars we met in the ’00s and ’10s are changing their tunes in the ’20s.