RTJ4 is every bit as explosive as one would have hoped, and whatever it lacks in diversity it makes up for with strong writing. It’s a record born out of generations of racial tension and almost four years of near-dictatorship in the USA.

One of those rare, near-flawless works of art that only grows finer with age.

While there are some tracks that could have been expended, that just wouldn’t be Rina’s style. She’s here to express her excessive, melodramatic, fun-loving, pain-harbouring persona in every single different way she can, without holding anything back – and SAWAYAMA should be celebrated for that.

They round out the subtle complexities in the seemingly simple story of longing; a tip-toeing toybox melody reflecting the delicacy of the situation, digital glitches suggesting the distance between them, sighs that relay the inner conflict. This precision features throughout Jennifer B, and it’s thanks to these careful touches that each song connects on a deeper level, despite their structurelessness and unpredictability.

Florist’s latest project stands as the culmination of previous collaborative and solo work, featuring the band as a whole at their most minimally precise; and Sprague, in terms of songwriting, vocal performances, and composition, at her most versatile and visionary.

The wicked atmosphere that they’ve crafted across Heart Under is worthy of celebration alone.

Whether or not Dabice believes things inside her have changed, it’s undoubted that I Got Heaven is taking Mannequin Pussy to new levels, and things on her exterior are only going to get bigger and brighter.

Parks has made her most undeniable statement yet, an album full of uplifting and mesmerizing neo-classics that will fit right in the hearts and minds of the thousands it will touch.

Shortly After Takeoff is a powerful collection made by someone who’s had to endure more than his fair share of turbulence.

Instrumentally, Ignorance transcends the traditional folk that The Weather Station tirelessly perfected over the previous four albums. With an ever-expanding palette of sonics at her disposal, Lindeman weaves these tales of turmoil and regret through the usage of everything possible – horns, strings, several subtle non-acoustic guitars, and most prominently the piano. To reach the levels of awareness she sought required another level of sound, and it crackles throughout Ignorance.

By using her clear mind to acknowledge all that has made up who she is, she has put together the puzzle of her past through the lens of today to create something that transcends its personal nature to truly resonate with her widening audience.

Handsome almost in spite of itself, The Idler Wheel is poignant, nuanced and quietly unforgettable.

Squid’s music is full of: humanity and the inherent hope within it. It’s what makes Bright Green Field a joy to return to time and again.

On In Lieu Of Flowers, COVID-19 lockdowns and quarantine provide a suitably bleak backdrop to their narrator’s tails of spiralling alcoholism and isolation. .... Despite this, the music rises with an undeniable air of victory as driving drums and guitars crescendo alongside horn flourishes. Like on much of In Lieu of Flowers, West can’t help but be awestruck by the unlikely triumph of still being alive amidst the wreckage.

It's too bad it couldn't find release on a major, but still a victory. Yet, that doesn't make this album, as Saigon once declared it, the best record of the last 20 years. It makes it a good one.

Sanguivore might not be as precisely balanced and pop-pitched as Sex, but there’s craft and talent here, and the album is punctuated with sublime and sublimely entertaining moments.

Yes, it is very hard to convey the sheer creative joy within these compositions Clark has come up with, but what’s more important is the bigger picture. And that is that St. Vincent can no longer be directly compared (or plagiarised).

The album may be a little homogenous for some listeners, but this is a narratively and emotionally precise set of songs, set to sneakily indelible melodies. Nastasia has never written with such vivid truthfulness, such earthen brutality.

Women in Music Pt. III is by no means perfect, but its strengths assuredly outweigh the weaknesses. Haim feel completely in the moment here, and are working stronger than ever as a unit.

They have managed to recapture the magic that permeated their best material and made it so imminently replayable. This is a bold move that should be celebrated, and more importantly, it should be emulated.

Even with the palpable style of The National all over the album, it does feel like Swift has finally found the authenticity she’s been chasing with each respective release ever since Red. But still, Swift’s vocal delivery lacks the emotional depth of the artists this album pays homage to.

While it has quite a few tracks that stand out, besides the glamorous opener, due to their use of pathos-laden synthesizer hooks (“Ben Franklin”, “Headlock”) and moody refrains (“Glory”, “Automate”), the gentle ballads and groovy mid-tempo tracks that make up the album’s second act don’t seem as stylized or aggressively emotional musically as their lyrics demand.

Sonically Song For Our Daughter offers up a familiar feel, which is no doubt from the return of producer Ethan Johns (co-producing alongside Marling here). His touches feel light, but help add weight where necessary, be it with the greater presence of strings or the additional percussion (which never seeks to take the attention, regardless of how busy it is).

Loud City Song is a true achievement from Julia Holter. Nary is there a hook on the album, but the richness and vividness that she brings to the songs musically and lyrically will hook you more effectively anyway.

Bad As Me is yet another sensational landmark on the long, well-traveled path of a man who simply refuses to age.

There’s an irresistible eclecticism on display, with each and every track serving as a unique adventure into some different corner.

Where GREY Area was all about Chinese restaurants, squats, dark back alleys and illegal warehouse clubs, Sometimes I might be introvert is about office buildings, record shops, bedrooms and stage productions. It’s daring and conceptual, but lacks physicality, unity and focus.

Call Me If You Get Lost finds Tyler freer than he was on IGOR. He’s managed to combine talents in front of and behind the mic, while amalgamating the serious personalities he used prior with the humor that trademarked his early work. He’s displaying lessons learned here.