As the album comes to a close, its success lies in the honesty and purity that went into its creation.

Even if the method of delivery is not the most effective, it’s a positive thing for both artist and listener to be pushing further, trying harder, and exploring uncomfortable, new terrain. Ignoring that would be a mistake.

Soft Sounds… isn’t quite as playfully subversive as Zauner’s big-rig guitar solo on “Everybody Wants to Love You”, but her work as Japanese Breakfast continues to draw its energy from transgressing both the expectations of herself and her audience.

There’s little that’s playful inside Superunknown. It sounds more like Black Sabbath running for their lives, about to crack under the pressure, but then, at the last minute, escaping--and thriving.

It’ll make you remember that weird, wistful emotion that isn’t quite sadness but isn’t quite anything else, either. Because, while their music may sound as fresh as ever, American Football’s message these days is clear: time takes everything.

As with most of the LP, the instrumentation and lyrics are equal parts memorable and evil. Let’s face it, memorable and evil are two traits any fan would want from a Rob Zombie album.

This LP is loud, clanging, and communal, but also, in its own way, dreamlike. There’s something warped at the core of these songs, as if they’ve been yanked through some kind of wormhole and have reemerged into our world as aliens. And, for the most part, that makes for some fascinating listening.

It’s a tricky record that is perhaps more keen on being interesting than outright entertaining. Nonetheless, the experimentation on The Nightmare of Being is certainly worth celebrating.

Refractory Obdurate sounds a clamorous warning that something is nigh. Rather than a direct message, Edwards offers only a shatter of brimstone pieces.

For Walker, it’s about breathing life back into ’60s folk until it bursts with springtime charm, and Primrose Green is 2015’s ultimate encompassment of that sound.

Magma might not be the album fans were expecting, but it’s really not about them. The Duplantiers had to make this album for themselves. We are the fortunate witnesses.

All of this is more fun than a politically charged hardcore album has any right to be.

James has primed the Aphex Twin for its next metamorphosis--one that has promised to be more combustible than the beats that ground SYRO.

Emotion rolls out banger after banger, all while sustaining a remarkable level of complexity and compassion for everyone in Jepsen’s solar system.

Their final record is fittingly cyclical, beginning in the death of love and ending in death alone, full of transportive moments and beauty along the way. And though there may never be another Dillinger Escape Plan record, this one is perfectly suited and deserving of massive replays to come.

Unbreakable ends perhaps a bit too tidily with “Well Traveled” and “Gon B’ Alright”, the latter a gospel-flavored anthem in the key of Sly and the Family Stone. But they barely dent her best effort since The Velvet Rope.

Compton’s 16 tracks ebb into each other cohesively.

The album winds up feeling like the first in Newsom’s catalog that won’t be considered a classic, but it’s proof that a sturdy, thought-provoking, and rewarding record doesn’t necessarily need to stand next to her past work to find its own greatness.

The resulting sound pieces are still intricately weird and weirdly intricate, and if Anchor sacrifices some of the hushed intimacy of a Books record (see: Zammuto’s self-consciously rock delivery on “IO” or the raw and lurching snare sound on the great “Sinker”), it retains the promise that anything, and any sound, is momentarily possible within these musical boundaries.

While some edits could have crafted a more concise record, this grand, indulgent piece finds Holter at the height of her ability. Even the quiet periods are always entrancing.

The Bangtan Boys accomplish exactly what they set out to do with this album: bring comfort to their listeners and remind people around the world that they are not alone in their experiences.

Sure, Hills End peaks fairly early, but the album plateaus in a way that’s inviting, comfortable, and better yet, quite addicting.

Drunk Tank Pink is a beautiful demonstration of how musical rebellion and fury need not be explicitly lyrically tied to the current moment to speak directly to those living through it.

The second half of the album--a more compelling collection of singles--clarifies its darker themes while remaining upbeat.

Their dulcet, vintage tones intoxicate and overwhelm the senses, while the cutting lyrics set the table for a thoroughly emotional listening experience.

Making pain sound pretty and poetic is a tough tightrope to walk, but Kozelek once again takes all the right steps.

No Geography is sprawling, terror inducing, and absolutely primed for the dancefloor.

Mutant unfurls like a singular body, and its nuanced empathy with the shame and horror and joy of corporeality makes it an enthralling piece to experience.