Searing. ... Just when you think Viagra Boys have exhausted their ideas, outside of the surprisingly confessional ADD, Murphy and his cohorts crank up the energy one last time on Return of the Monke.

Strange provides the blueprint for his many talents on the album—proving his taste knows no bounds—pursuing a scrappy, meandering course that can sometimes lead to rocky, albeit thrilling, dead ends.

Courtney might give the impression that he's aiming for a low-stakes, minor effort to pass the time in Magic Signs, a stopgap until moving on to a relatively more ambitious project. But he couldn't be more in his element, shifting in and out of focus as he recaptures his youthful wonder.

Olsen immerses herself into an intricately crafted and honest piece that doesn't resonate as distinctly her own.

The album packs a lot of ideas—and songs—into its brief 33-minute runtime, preventing almost any song from overstaying its welcome. ... The result is some of their loosest, most fun work.

There’s lots to love but WE can’t match the power of the band’s first four records. Still, Arcade Fire’s returned rejuvenated after time in a cynical wilderness, ready to sing and dance against apathy. This album is worth it for that fact alone.

Van Etten took the risk of not releasing any singles beforehand so audiences could more fully understand the full scope of the story. She holds a little bit of control before charging ahead, unlocking the connection she craves after experiencing a ceaseless stream of negativity. It's the kind of emotional catharsis all of us can relate to during these uncertian times.

Pierce commits to an intricately layered masterwork that brims with beauty at every turn. He has come close to writing a Motown-inspired ballad-like Let it Bleed (For Iggy) before, but here, in typically unorthodox fashion, Pierce nails down that aesthetic while serving up Britpop grandeur this side of Blur’s The Universal.

There's a fluidity and looseness to White's approach on Fear of the Dawn, giving the impression he's having a good time kicking it with his buds in his garage.

Its authenticity is what makes it so addictive, so accessible.

While she's developed her voice in the process, Designer being a shining example of how she showed her many talents with oft-kilter confidence, Warm Chris blends spontaneity and rigidity all at once.

What she's gained in the process is more focus and confidence, and as PAINLESS proves, an intriguing foreshadow of things to come.

She’s emerged from the thickets of Laurel Hell more assured than ever before.

Dig into it deeper and you’ll find a surprisingly rewarding account tell-all that sounds like an extraordinary premise to a film. And the score they write for themselves, as thrilling as it is, can be somewhat overwrought at times, resulting in an aural mood that could've used some dramatic nuance.

Weaving in dustier threads to Beach House’s ever shimmery fabric proves that the cyborgian approach of mixing the organic with the mechanical is an increasingly winning formula.

The result is the most compelling case in years on the potential of the journey—the insights to be gleaned, the friendships to be strengthened, your own potential waiting to be untapped. Albums like DNWMIBIY make you believe in magic again.

It's in Spoon's ability to remain so forthright while keeping their intentions a little bit hazy where their songwriting presents itself in the best light. We've never asked them to spell it out for us, especially when they're at their most direct, and that's why they continue to keep us guessing after all these years.

If APTBS have fallen off your radar in recent years, then this is the one worth reintroducing yourself to their work.

Time Skiffs isn’t terrible; it’s inoffensive, nice, surprisingly easy-going.

Dissolution Wave is a phenomenal record with a broader appeal than you’d expect. If you like your shoegaze heavy or your metal atmospheric, you’ll love it.

There are some more subdued moments (the quiet standout Stumbling Bee) but on the whole Extreme Witchcraft is a frustratingly stodgy affair.

With her lowkey yet glistening collection of songs, she jumps back into the light with clearheaded confidence and a more mature outlook.

Throughout these skeletal observations, Horn turns cryptic when she's about to give out more than she should—stressing ominous implications while using the mundane as a backdrop of her stories à la Raymond Carver, a writer she cites as an influence.

This is the most esoteric, thinking-person’s cloud rap album I’ve heard since Shabazz Palaces’ Black Up, and I mean that in the most endearing, complimentary way possible.

It may lack some of the avant-garde experimentation and concepts of her full-lengths but after all she’s been through and all that she’s given us, CAPRISONGS feels like a victory lap.

Archive Material is a strong release for fans of Fad or newcomers to Silverbacks, the type of album that feels like it’ll only get better with time.

As Marshall proves time and time again, you don’t need original compositions to express how you’re feeling; Covers exudes confidence and hints at a new-found peace. It’s a delightful listen.

Green continues to take us on a steady ride on Fragments.