They’ve returned with an album that feels far from the all-encompassing anxiety of their previous records, prioritizing the unity and spirit that all four members feel for each other. ... Sometimes, it’s enough to peel back the layers of old paint and put on a fresh coat. The colors may be a bit jumbled at a first glance, but when you take a step back, they’re vivid, pleasant, magnetic.

Janka holds the reigns here, expertly blending the warmth of his half-tuneless lyrics amid a mad swarm of instrumentation and voices. Still, the songs come across as a massive group effort.

The music carries the listener throughout each track, making for a meditative experience. With Birth of Violence, Chelsea Wolfe offers a compelling work brimming with emotion and dreamy wonder.

With its gritted teeth and threats of violence, “If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You I Will” sets the tone for the rest of The Dream Is Over, a feral animal of an album that frequently lashes out without warning.

Her newest release, Pain is Beauty, takes listeners to the highest of highs, all thanks to Wolfe’s willingness to get low and descend even further into the gloom-hole.

Saturation III is the shortest, hookiest, and best, though, for no better reason than they are cooking by now, pithily commenting on police brutality, drug addiction, and receiving head.

Wolf Parade isn’t afraid to dive deep. While they don’t always emerge with pearls, the effort is commendable, and one that leaves us hoping that the next time they swim away into the dark, they won’t take so long to find their way back.

Every aspect is written and performed impeccably, with track sequencing that highlights both the variety of the material and the wisdom of its concepts. True to its intentions, then, The Million Masks of God is a gorgeously tuneful and thought-provoking gem.

There’s nothing new under the sun or on this record, but when the riffs are crisp and the harmonies tight, that’s a complaint that’s at least a couple of spots down the list. The Raconteurs won’t save rock and roll, but they’ll certainly help us pass the time until we find whoever will.

She offers a deeply internal side to her world, buoyed by a production style rich with grains and echoes.

The carefully composed rock here reminds us that our journeys are our own, regardless of whatever else we tack onto them. No matter how full Donnelly’s hands get with the interpersonal frustrations of day-to-day life and the wounds of the past, the world is still hers for the taking, and she makes it feel like it’s all of ours, too.

At nine songs and just over 36 minutes, Fading Frontier is a filler-free opus of experimental rock splendor that never lags and always intrigues.

Dropkick Murphys continue to do what they do best on Turn Up That Dial, churning out an album full of upbeat Celtic riffs and sing-along choruses.

One has to dig deep and fight uphill to connect here, but that climb results in a rewarding, fascinating listen.

Banga doesn't just preserve a petrified version of Patti Smith circa Horses; rather, it's fresh and innovative, albeit disjointed.

If you want true avant-garde hip-hop, you’re better off looking elsewhere. If it’s a melodic, cohesively produced collection of rap songs you’re after, you could do a lot worse.

They [the songs] all sit well next to each other, but that feeling of “next to each other” rather than “supporting each other” can be difficult to shake.

It’s hard not to wish Never were the way she was would stretch further and reach out to the horizon the way each musician’s solo albums have. But much like a masterfully rendered novella, Stetson and Neufeld leave you wanting more.

Van Etten has all the right tools to make a great album.

Thanks to Cronin's studio drummer, producer, and fuzz friend, Ty Segall, the record has plenty of dirt all over it, placing the overarching tone of the album somewhere between Velvet Underground's Loaded and The White Stripes' White Blood Cells.

It’s hard and sinister like a gangster rap album, but it’s also sprawling and even psychedelic at times. Nothing else sounds like it, and that’s a joy to behold.

Now that the percussive elements are conspicuously absent, however, Actress requires a more thorough listen–and those that give it full attention will be rewarded with layers upon

Some reunions suck; others are a relief simply because they’re not embarrassing. Vivian Girls have defied the odds by reuniting for their best album yet.

On Ivy Tripp, Crutchfield creeps further into adulthood, expanding both her outlook and sound without losing the intimacy that endeared her to us in the first place.

Atlanta Millionaires Club is a masterpiece of claustrophobic intimacy that brings compelling immediacy to a time-tested story.

More Faithful is a genre-bending record with explosive yet concentrated sound that stays true to No Joy’s signature shoegaze rock.

After sees her returning, confidently, to her role as a modern-day pop experimentalist.

On Honey, Samia finds her power in being an open book.