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 beautifully labyrinthian 1981 album from a prog-rock institution in search of continuous evolution.

The emo rapper-producer’s full-length debut cycles between weird ideas and accessible cuts, collaging stylistic landmarks from the early 1990s to the MySpace era to Lil Peep.

On their third album, Florence Shaw and co. are tapping into that sly, dry humor, working with Cate Le Bon, and breaking out of their shell.

On their score for a neo-Western film, the guitarists explore emotional and geographical landscapes with downhome pastoral ambience.

On their long-awaited full-length collaboration, the ’90s rap legends keep their gaze focused squarely on the rear-view mirror. It’s unabashed nostalgia bait with flashes of vintage brilliance.

The pioneering Norwegian post-metal duo continues its career-long experimentation—this time with poetry recitations, EDM throwbacks, and balmy new age.

The Maryland rapper fills his fourth album with cathartic melodies and sentimental tributes to family. But despite his occasionally distinctive moments, he sounds overly beholden to his influences.

The L.A. black metal quartet’s second album borrows widely from across the heavy-music spectrum and beyond, but their stylistic shifts are always in service of the band’s increasingly distinct voice.

The Italian experimental duo creates a sprawling, overstimulating work that celebrates the kitsch lurking behind a wide array of musical forms.