Nielson is comfortable enough in his own songwriting to settle into airtight grooves--with the assistance of the clattering, shifty drums from his brother--and allow them to simmer for a few golden moments. His guitar playing is sensational, and his use of warping effects to achieve the right mix of tightness and sensitivity gets better with each UMO record.

The album is extremely easy to listen to--so much so that it can veer slightly into monotonous territory--but it’s a soundscape that is impossible to dislike.

[Sadie Dupuis] leads from the front with an outrageous level of assuredness and a delightful penchant for a hook.

With such a wide-ranging collection of retro sounds blended into one record, the fact that the album’s near 45-minute runtime avoids any real stale moments is another triumph from Uchis.

Through her fictitious accounts, the band follows with a harmonious balance of dissonant transitions. Other times, their song structures are more conventional, even if they take on a few grinding solos and lush string accompaniments. It makes for a sometimes confounding if indecisive listen, but Quinlan's passionate eye for detail hasn't withered in the slightest.

It sometimes renders a bit slight and doesn't have quite the volume of her best material. But Grid of Points pulls you in all the same, and as it is with Harris's best work, she emanates a mysterious allure.

Already Forth Wanderers ooze the confidence and candidness to make themselves major players in their indie-pop sphere.

The performances are muscular and attention-grabbing, and the melodies built around her distress take new and zestful contours.

From the 19-song tracklist of short tunes to the complete disregard for standard song structures, Goat Girl’s self-titled is a punk album in demeanor, if not in style. The result makes for a far more fascinating record than initial singles would have led us to believe. In defying expectations, the band exceeds them.

It's the full-on pop record that Monáe had been hinting at for years, and though some of her stylistic choices may not age well--especially when she veers into trap territory - she approaches them with a kind of flighty confidence.

While one could say the majority of Hippo Lite’s material is experimental, Presley and Le Bon placed their most avant and uptempo vocal tracks toward the album’s latter half, a block of songs that sort of run together before its closer, the violin-driven You Could Be Better. Consequently, the sequencing feels rushed and impatient. By Contrast, Presley and Le Bon initially want to show you around, the light and airy Blue from the Dark opening the door, slowly introducing you to their muse. By the end, it’s difficult not to feel as though you’ve overstayed your welcome.

I Don’t Run never ventures too far away from convention, but it doesn’t need to. It’s that familiarity that allows them to ramp up the sentimentality without coming across as kitsch.

All Nerve is not in the same league as Last Splash, but it is an exhibition of a band with alarmingly strong musical chemistry making relevant music--and enjoying doing so--a quarter of a century on from their most notable landmark.

On Felt, Suuns are one step closer to creating a language they can call their own.

Ultimately, New Material is another strong LP from a watertight band, and a great access point for a listener overwhelmed by the oppressive brutishness of their previous LPs.

The themes still surround the passing of his wife Geneviève Elverum, but he allows some room to contemplate on what it means to begin to move forward. As opposed to the stiflingly spare Crow, Now Only is fairly more detailed, where he seeks for some equilibrium by revisiting the sullen drones of his past work.

Packed with a surfeit of nimble guitar lines, they draw their forces together into an expertly crafted portrayal of raw anguish that surpasses any nostalgic commemoration. These mature punks sweat out their energy with vigorous and eloquent playing, and in doing so, also show their younger peers how it's done.

She does blur the country influences to the point where they're almost unrecognizable, which does broaden her audience even if it diminishes crucial aspects of her personality. But as Golden Hour quietly unfurls, it makes Musgraves's intent all the more potent.

Even if 12 has its share of flaws, Sloan still manage to write one of their most proficient set of songs since 2008's faintly more exploratory Parallel Play.

What Freedom reveals is McMahon's ever-evolving tapestry, as it affectionally chronicles the human condition with candor and open-hearted curiosity.

Even if Sunflower Bean know how to carry a tune, a good portion of their songwriting choices can come across as clumsy. But even if they don't exert their confidence to their fullest extent, their themes on emotional and financial uncertainty find a place within the discontent of their generation.

The result is not a loss of the uncompromising minimalism or dry wit, but a more dense brand of the edgy, psychedelic punk only noticeable in its absence from the duo’s previous work as The Lovely Eggs when listened to alongside This Is Eggland.

Silver Dollar Moment, is a consistently charming affair, veering on the right side of both nostalgic requiescence and syrupy saccharine sweet.

Superchunk do come back full circle with a timeless, uniform body of work, though it also takes them back a few years after their late-career breakthroughs Majesty Shredding and I Hate Music.

The album is strong but is a marked change in direction, nonetheless.

MGMT always excel when they don't try too hard, and on Little Dark Age, they admirably leverage irony with lighthearted merriment.

Quit the Curse is consistently hooky and elegant, and though it slumps with a few lax, jangly rhythms, it’s nothing less than a pleasant stay to her sighing thoughts and apprehensions.

It shows a refreshed band, back on the chase to find new ways of songwriting, with strong melodies and intriguing lyrics remaining a constant. I’ll Be Your Girl is the start of this new chapter, and it’s a wonderful place for them to begin again.

Yo La Tengo wants us to absorb their calm serenity, and that it's okay to sit down and distance ourselves from the negativity we encounter from time to time.

The intensity of the music and interplay between the trio remains firmly intact and stronger than ever.

Cocoa Sugar is an invigorating listen from beginning to end, and it's hard to imagine any other band making a musical work of art that's as visceral this year.

It is impassioned and political, but most of the album is more life-affirming than alienating. These are songs about solidarity and overcoming adversity, either through specifically female friendship or finding that strength introspectively.

As cumbersome as this album can be, its unapologetic excesses baked into its track length and Haino’s sometimes grating vocal, the zero-constraint approach at the core of this mutually beneficial creative merger is compelling.

What’s most startling about Clean is how Allison manages her emotions with compassion and a great sense of composure.

As activist hashtags #MeToo and #TimesUp bear weight and stage heavy resistance against a significant and still increasing population of men with power, Remy’s words prop up the cause, not quite providing the movement its anthem(s), but certainly offering its reason(s) why.

Her sound is a junksale of clutter and certified gems. I can feel you… is her most sonically sharp weapon to date, and full of plenty to get excited about if you rifle through it.

But outside of their reminiscences about troubled adolescence, which sometimes provide a gratingly innocent tone, How Could it Be Any Different? is otherwise brimful with lighthearted, yet meaningful songs that could actually make a difference.

Their attempts at country-folk are less remarkable, causing This is Glue to droop towards its middle half, but Salad Boys do pick themselves up with aplomb rather than surrender to their sullen demeanor.

There have always been shadows cast from the overriding ebullience of Lennox’s work as Panda Bear, but with A Day With the Homies, the shadows are confined by a skyscraping sun, where elastic psychedelic bungees in and out of the surf and basks in its feverish gleam.

Their call-and-response breakdowns are still as impassioned as ever on tracks like Drippy and Cruise Control, where they place the hooks and melodies right on the surface. The use of ambiance over their riotous songs isn’t just an asset, it’s also the essence of No Age.

There’s more of an improvisational focus to a lot of Thread, where they take on themes such as immigration policy and ecological concerns with their usual storytelling flair. It does have a familiar, intuitive touch; this is Calexico, after all. But the duo never does things with little effort or care.

Microshift clearly demonstrates that Hookworms are operating on a new level.

With Furman already establishing a consistent sound over his previous records, it was perhaps expected of him to cover some well-worn ground again here. Instead, and appropriately, Transangelic Exodus is an album that constantly takes left turns and refuses to slow. It turns out that with the right driver, there are plenty of miles left on the old road yet

With Open Here, Field Music sound like they’re not only investing in their stability but in their future as well.

Their blueprint is a simple one, and QTY pull it off by being airtight from beginning to end, while the production work of Suede guitarist Bernard Butler seasons the deliciously retro sound perfectly

The record manages to sound venturous and recklessly current. Iqbal’s use of chiming guitars, serendipitous synths and scurrying beats results in a record that is opulent in its warmth and sparklingly neat.

Simply put, Post Self is another stunning addition to Godflesh’s uncompromising thirty-year run.

Entrancing in its stillness, Phantom Brickworks solidifies Bibio as an artist of remarkable versatility.

They embrace what they do best: creating music that balances this personal and political darkness with joy. In their strongest outing since All That You Can’t Leave Behind, the four-piece writes both sweeping anthems as well as some of the most effortless songs of their career.

Utopia does function as a companion piece to Vulnicura, if only because it doesn’t require much effort to separate them as contrary forces.

The electronic work is fantastic throughout Plunge, never adhering to presets and making full use of every beat, burst and throb. When coupled with Dreijer’s slick, razor-sharp vocal you have a monster of a record that gets more impressive with every listen.

Nothing Valley is an intense, hugely engaging listen.

What Makthaverskan lack in variety they make up with a passion that cannot be quenched, and the dreamy undercurrent it carries throughout is filled with a shot of optimism that is undoubtedly contagious.

The open spaces she works with are stunningly evocative, but her compositions are no less busy, a testament to how she’s based much of her compositional framework on a song’s underlying rhythms. It provides a strong feeling of familiarity for those who’ve followed Colleen’s work throughout the years.

Fohr details her cathartic experience with a smothering array of droning textures and clashing orchestral elements, where she succeeds at making sense out of her cosmic encounter.

Her ability on both sides of the mixing deck is on full display throughout Losing, and her latest work strengthens her case as a supremely talented songwriter and producer.

But the band is grounded in humility, always playing against each other with a drifting timbre that’s inviting and likable. But tucked within their textural progressions lay deftly written songs that honor their long-lived inclination to remain emotionally and intellectually independent.

With any other protagonists this project could become sickeningly twee, but Vile and Barnett deliver every lyric, no matter how ridiculous, with absolute sincerity. As they close with a stunning cover of Belly’s Untogether, it’s difficult to be cynical about something this utterly charming.

These are songs that you feel more than listen to. Everyone has encountered some sort of mental illness, addiction or crisis of faith, whether in your life or another’s. Not only does Baker prove that you’re not alone, but she finds a way to make it better.

He propels the masses into an apocalyptic party with simple and inviting gestures, even if behind the songs lays an exhaustive perfectionist who’s fully dedicated to his craft. That exhaustion does catch up with Maus as the quality of the songwriting loses its luster, especially during its second half, but his sharply quizzical thoughts do cohere into an involving whole.

A large portion of Always Foreign focuses on building terse melodic post-rock suites (Faker), though their words are necessary and valued, and they emote them with a heartfelt directness that recalls their formative beginnings (Dillon and Her Son, Gram). This balancing act of moods can sometimes lend Always Foreign an air of indecision, though if the intent was to take it as majestic as it can be, then they remove any trace of subtlety on the album’s rousing power ballad as if applying the handkerchief-in-hand progressive elements of Queensryche (Infinite Steve).

While Wand’s leap forward didn’t live up to some of the expectations I’d had via 1000 Days, the light and engaging Charles De Gaulle and nicely-arranged harmonizing in Driving wouldn’t exist if not for the band’s efforts to do so with Plum.

Bambino is a record that is kaleidoscopically colourful, staying in charge of a viciously artistic wall chart of sounds and turning it into something impressively cohesive. In the groovefest that is Need a Little Spider and the deliciously sleek Double Dutch, there are some downright bangers on here for good measure.

A lot of this terminology may sound familiar to the Mogwai devoted, but Every Country’s Sun does signal a change in attitude and confidence, and there’s no more convincing argument than that.

A notable cast of musicians, ranging from James Blake and King Krule to Micachu, impart their own idiosyncrasies, coming together to adopt a more avant-garde variant. But never does it hide the duo’s own merits, as they embrace a more vibrant form of beat-driven electronica that also functions in a rock context with collaboration at its heart.

Aromanticism is downright beautiful but is also too enamored with its sensual aura, which sometimes exposes his uneven vocal acrobatics.

Their willingness to embrace worldly influences--and infuse their own urbanity--into their arrangements is crucial with regards to enabling the spirited reveries to accommodate the twins’ extrasensory wordplay, bringing a stability to the arbitrary grooves.

Hiss Spun is the first record from Chelsea Wolfe that commits entirely to the more catastrophic elements of her repertoire, and the results are equal parts stunning and terrifying.

There’s a deferential tone to Light Information that suggests he’s never really going to change his signature shtick, and even if we always know what to expect, it always feels like a warm return home from an always generous friend.

Molly Rankin’s vocals throughout the record compliment the soundscapes perfectly, fanning disappointment with hope whilst exercising a great deal of control--and an admirable lack of bias--over her ponderings.

I Love You Like a Brother is the type of catchy, kinetic album that’s natural and effortless.

Ogilala is anything but musically overwrought, and the melodies do keep a haunting quality that elevates his distinct quivering voice.

Wolf Alice have come up with the goods again with their second LP, and in Ellie Rowsell they have a frontwoman who hypnotises and enthralls at will.

With a sound that maintains relevancy in the modern age as the band keeps true to a form that’s existed thirty-plus years, Protomartyr’s Detroit Rock interpretation of post-punk seems to gain something with every album they produce, a sensibility that’s somehow detectible but difficult to define or pinpoint.

There are areas of the record where moments become a bit looser and less infectious, but generally this is a strong debut.

Themes of alienation and heartbreak are set against sweeping guitar hooks, handled with a well-studied attention to craft that takes cues from bands like Wolf Parade and Modest Mouse. A wise template to base their potent anthems on.

Collection is a strong erm… collection of cosy tracks that maintain the kind of candid inwardness that can sometimes be lost between the bedroom and the studio.

TFCF is riddled with confusion and self-reflection, and it faithfully continues Liars’ unconventional stride, though this time it had to affect him intimately and personally to take him there.

Holiday Destination is Shah’s third LP, and is her most accomplished effort to date--superbly executed with an ability to make an austere backdrop insatiably compelling.

Their lewd punk anthems are messy and sloppy, and even a little bit sticky, but A Giant Dog wouldn’t want it any other way.

Strange Peace is about finding even a semblance of mental calm when everything seems awry, and hard to think of many other modern hardcore bands who could accomplish this with such genuine physicality.

It abounds with fertile musical ideas, which is something that's been missing in our depleted cultural diet. In a world that's gone mad, this mesmerizing confection is like a balm, bewitching the listener with soothing reveries. For now, it stands as The Clientele's best.

The Hanged Man is a return to form--not with a whimper but with a bang. It’s just not the bang we expected.

This record’s strength is its directness. It may lean more towards the mainstream than usual, but that makes it another fresh move in a career full of them. No matter what styles he tries, Wilson excels. In that case, To The Bone is not so different at all.

They sound as involved as they’ve ever been, the fruits of considering a more improvisational and segmented approach to writing music.

With varying strains of droning guitar sound carrying the album to a close, Boris’ sonic recognition of their roots pulses and shrieks, sounds that seem merely revisited and not completely inspired.

Through the album, EMA never judges or grandstands. She takes snapshots of life outside metropolises, inviting everyone to look closer at those left behind in the outer ring.

American Dream does offer a lot from a songwriting standpoint, and why wouldn’t it? Murphy is a skilled producer with a deft ear for melody. But he’s somehow disrupted that valuable balance of humor and thoughtfulness found in LCD Soundsystem’s past with a more sedate offering that is riddled with mixed messages.

Ronson’s efforts can sometimes come across as superfluous since Villains does tend to drag during its last stretch without finding a way to refresh some of its tired, fuzzed-out riffs (sans for Villains of Circumstance, a multi-part epic that ends the album with show-stopping confidence). But make no mistake, this is a Queens record that has no pretenses, no false identity. And it provides just the right remedy to refuel rock radio’s loss of identity.

Out in the Storm is perennially bright, with its melodies maintaining a serrated edge that ensures the sound remains robust, immersive and hard-hitting.

The cryptic nature of Moonshine Freeze impresses when at its uncompromising best, but it can occasionally underwhelm when she favors slimmer bare-bones arrangements. Still, these marked contradictions only reveal an artist who’s allowing herself to walk on a less purposeful path.

It’s got a great list of guest vocalists, too, and it feels like each one has been recruited as a result of careful consideration. If there is a criticism, it’s that it’s a disjointed record that sometimes feels like Steadman focuses more on showing off his preferences than his own soul, but it sounds delicious either way.

It’s a wondrous gem of an album that, even at its most lustrous, manifests itself with biting precision.

Mellow Waves doesn’t immediately grab your attention like some of Oyemada’s past work, but his careful attention to craft remains intact.

It sounds like a natural progression for the Londoners, and in the process, they have made something that tips its hat to decades-old tendencies whilst sounding more modern than most records to drop in 2017.

Ruiz is an effective and ruthless firecracker who grills her subjects with no remorse, but she’s also welcoming and receptive to those who speak their mind with courage. Along with the rest of the band, they understand that they can only encourage participation and bolster awareness.

There’s a meditative cadence to Rotations that gains potency as it progresses, given that we witness an unraveling of thought.

In many ways, What Do You Think… is a perfectly teenage album; it’s smart and it’s naive, it’s funny and it’s bleak, and, most importantly, it understands the appeal of pop while being frustrated at the apolitical landscape in which it exists.