There is no excuse for accepting this level of mediocrity.

BRIGHTSIDE is no different: belt out vibrant and occasionally resonant anthems that are easy to grasp even if somewhat oversimplified. The nuance is altogether lost, though, like most of their discography, it'll win you over with its scrappy, can-do charm.

This album shines when Barnett allows some light to get in. There’s no immediate pull here but it rewards a listeners' patience, especially for those who preferred her breezy EPs over the bustle of her first two albums. It may be less consistent than her previous albums, but Barnett’s newfound willingness to be vulnerable means there’s every chance it will be remembered as her most significant work to date.

Musgraves plays up her lyrical prowess to the detriment of the instrumentation, which is crisp but generic and unremarkable. Neither is there much stylistic variety in terms of vocals or even the attitude Musgraves brings to her songs.

Three tracks and two genre-shifts in, it’s a wonder how well the pieces fit together. Vu’s voice is a connecting thread, a honeyed contralto as distorted and disconnected as her affect, doubled onto itself and pulsing with uncertainty.

With Buds, Ovlov prove once again, and perhaps more effectively than ever, that the alchemy of passion and songcraft is undeniable no matter where your devotion resides.

It’s not cynical and calculated enough to be a shameless cash-grab yet it’s not self-indulgent enough to be a vanity project. Perhaps it’s just a stopgap in the catalogues of two big-selling artists; an intended homage to the music that made Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak. They’re making this music because they like it, because they want to, and because they can.

While Waysides is unmatched in quality and execution, it sometimes feels a little too neat compared to the lush orchestrations of her breakthrough 2019 LP Bird Songs of a Killjoy. But there are some surprises to behold, coming in late into the album.

These remarkably self-assured ten tracks stand on their own with joyful inventiveness, as McGreevy tries to make sense of his past mistakes (Old Times) and alcohol-induced pseudo-intellectual babbling (Fit to Burst) through their joyous outbursts.

One of the most insightful pop records this year.

Some of the naggier aspects of her music remain, especially her strained, prickly inflection, still somewhat forced and certainly an acquired taste. But all told, there's no denying that Valentine is a singular statement that is profoundly genuine at every turn.

Shade, Harris’ most varied release yet, feels like the broadest and most crisp view of this vista yet, with clear, starlit openings (Unclean Mind), vast ambient gaps (Ode to the Blue), and hazy nebulas (Disordered Minds) coming together to form a stargazer’s dream.

They used to make little records like this in the anything goes early 80’s. It’s nice to see Konigsberg bringing it back.

From Old Skin to Harmonia’s Dream, I Don’t Live Here Anymore has plenty of new War on Drugs classics that will sit comfortably next to Red Eyes and Strangest Thing on a setlist.

If not as instantly infectious as Wide Awake!, Sympathy For Life imparts the group’s unwillingness to stand still.

TWIABP demands a lot of your attention through these challenging, often dreary meditations, but they do reveal themselves gradually through close observation. On the flip side, there is no shortage of positivity either. It's a tricky equilibrium that the band embraces as they emotionally erupt over a fiery concoction of shredding guitars.

González adds in playful elements like metronomic percussion (Lasso In) and danceable cumbia rhythms with mixed results (Swing.) And though both are charming in their own right, they don't quite measure up to the haunting simplicity of his best work.

Heavy Lifter tried to take some new directions and added more heft to their songs, but not in the organic approach that True Love embraces. Like joy and true love itself, Hovvdy sounds best here when they use a broader palette without getting too far outside the lines—bringing more to bear and letting in quite a bit more light.

Let Me Do One More teeters betweens knowing jokiness and kindhearted vulnerability. And though she's shown these qualities before, Tudzin carries the weight of these emotions with a masterful command—embracing change and figuring things out as she fumbles along the way.

The ambition they pursue overall shows in what Young himself affirms to be the band's best work, and their belief in that shows through and through.

These light and dark contrasts make for a thoroughly compelling listen that, certainly, makes up for Andrew's shortcomings as a lyricist.

Introvert is a beautiful collection of poems filled with stories and experiences, on which Simz doesn't skimp on resources and thinks big.

It’s the sound of a band transforming into something subtle but beautiful—the same way trees do when their foliage fades from green to orange.

Overall, her empowering message points at the daily toxic attitudes that female celebrities deal with. Screen Violence also projects confidence in a musical sense with its grand synth-pop and new wave, resisting and challenging the misogyny that unfortunately reaches far beyond our screens.

With no track here surpassing the 3 1/2 minute mark, the band firmly anchors the key components of their sound with a tight, steady grip.

Compared to this summer's pop offerings—think of the similarly themed efforts by Billie Eilish and Lorde, both of which deal with the trappings of fame with serenity and blissful detachment, respectively—If I Can't Get Love, I Want Power is provocative, and even ugly, in its most vulnerable moments. Self-indulgent, sure, but its emotional chaos feels earned.

The band’s blinkered aspiration to create a classic again produces an album that is enjoyable but hollow. In that way, at least, Pressure Machine is a Killers album just like any other.

Loving In Stereo has flashes of talent beyond its most showy jewels. There's a seventies aura that stains each verse, beat, and falsetto, as they channel a post-pandemic, Studio 54 vibe on tracks like What D'You Know About Me?, Bonnie Hill, and Fire. On the latter, bass lines take over and flare with fiery excitement. Loving in Stereo is the first album that Jungle releases through their own independent label Caiola Records. It feels like they're moving forward.