B’lieve i’m goin down is further evidence of Vile’s conclusive authenticity, and his position as one of songwriting’s most understated commodities.

Delightfully off-key and inimitable in their vision, Illegals to Heaven is another peculiar leap forward for a band that only sees through a singular filter.

For a debut LP that relies so heavily on a sound that is considered by some as fossilized, this is a very good effort. Urth is meticulously intricate in its more labyrinthine moments, and categorically barbarous for the rest of it.

With the zeal of archivists and a yen for experimentation, they have found strength in giving tribute to their influences, reaffirming the role of interpretation in contemporary music.

Key Markets doesn't disappoint. Their commitment to their aesthetic and their ability to use it to say new things is unflagging.

It’s a surprise to see him employ such an economy of language, but Bejar can still command your attention with his sharp, romantic one-liners. He’s setting the scene by making a visceral impression with characters that feel alive, engulfed in their indecisiveness, driven with a theatrical imagination that’s as restless as it’s ever been.

Despite the weak ending, Wolfe brings a chaotic, engulfing sound that makes this one of her heaviest works yet.

Perhaps there’s not that one killer single that will turn her into an instant sensation, and those are bound to emerge, but what she’s cultivating with Georgia holds more value: that of creating an essential body of work that is unaware of any imperfection, coming from a mind that’s overflowing with a glut of ideas.

She knows what it is to crave whiskey, to lust after men, to flout the petty hypocrisy of small-town country life and then cry and ask Jesus for forgiveness. This time she wove this narrative of Southern womanhood into The Blade and, by forgoing judgment and flaunting all its incoherent complexities, made it universal.

What always distinguished HEALTH was their ability to go off into a maelstrom of ominous disrepair, and losing sight of that leads its core sound to suffer regardless of whether they alter their approach.

The Monitor makes the listener feel unified with the band in their alienation. The Most Lamentable Tragedy presents an abstracted story as its emotional core, and it’s significantly harder to respond to that more distant lyrical perspective.

His synth work on this record is nothing short of remarkable, and his ability as a producer is further enhanced to a level at which he has no contemporaries. Parker is a once-in-a-generation talent, and this album is conclusive evidence of it.

Almost every track in Calling Out features a good sorting of conspicuous power chords provided by frontman Ezra Tenenbaum, a reminder that it’s not just about fidgeting with careful arpeggios.

Staples has so much to say in Summertime '06 that it’d be impossible to fully dissect in one listen, and his ingenious phrasing makes for a constantly amusing variety of vignettes. A record is only as good as the music that accompanies, though, and collaborative producer No I.D. delivers in spades and then some.

Even if this record isn't perfect, it's clear that she will become an influential figure in high-brow electronic music.

Payola picks off right where their last one left off while completely ignoring that the past decade even happened, which sounds like a harder feat then it might appear.

Each track sounds as fresh and as punchy as the last, and it is instantly infectious.

It’s refreshing to see an EDM producer balancing his more hedonistic impulses with genuine artistic ambitions, especially when it’s done with such a consistent energy and purpose.

The greater the risk, the greater the reward. And I can think of no better reward than this album.

Multi-Love demonstrates that the band isn’t beholden to a singular, lo-fi aesthetic. And for now, that’s more than enough.

In Colour is one of the best albums of 2015 and one of the best dance albums in recent memory, simultaneously a moving homage to London rave culture and a realization of the potential of one of the most exciting and original minds in music today.

here’s not one tired moment, no obvious retreads to be heard. It’s a solid third act, making good on the promises of (many) tomorrows.

After isn’t perfect, but it’s certainly an album that sounds as strong and mysterious the first time and 10th time you listen to it.

The songwriting here isn’t just adding superficial layers to Matsson’s previous sound, it’s a step forward in style. So while that may make the album his most pleasing first listen, the dulling of the edges of his previous work keep it from being one of the more memorable.

Even with its faults, The Magic Whip is remarkably cohesive; not a single track is superfluous, flippant, or jarring.

The album frequently descends into seemingly chaotic feedback and amp fuzz but the dirt is very much artfully, deliberately applied.

These are songs that mostly get to the heart of the matter with open-hearted directness, and in balancing the coarse with the refined there’s a clearer sense of what Scott wants to find even if she struggles to understand the conditions that affect her most deeply.

II follows its predecessor’s footsteps to the T, acting less as an evolution and more as a sharp, acute continuation of what made that album such a force to be reckoned with.

Their idea of a party anthem may be quick to please, but their unpretentious honesty and just sheer enjoyment makes a lasting impression.

Her wordplay ducks and weaves among the braided guitar melodies and idiosyncratic rhythm section with a razor-sharp cutting edge, with varying levels of daintiness, allowing the dangerously catchy melodies and thicker-bodied hooks to amass into a fantastically fluid LP.

Look past the pastel surface-level familiarity of Escape From Evil and you’ll find that no matter what tool-kit a band is equipped with, superb songwriting and refined attention to detail and aesthetics always prevail.

Hand. Cannot. Erase. is an incredible addition to Wilson's body of work. Drawing from the simple and the complicated, progressive and pop, light and darkness, it proves that no force can erase his talent and standing as one of the best and most underrated musicians of today.

Untethered Moon is truly the work of a veteran musician who continues to tweak the same kind of song with the adventurousness of a curious young man.

When he does adapt a more modern trap-orientated sound on the final two tracks it doesn’t really work, and this brings down the EP as an entire listen. Crown thrives when he stays close to his classic sound and the flourishes he adds, which today's stripped and skeletal approach to beatmaking actively avoid.

All in all, this isn't a bad direction to go after fifteen studio albums and countless other releases (600 songs!) into a career, as Darnielle again proves that his excessive specificity as a storyteller doesn't mean he can't tell us something about our own lives.

Most of Short Movie lingers over energetic yet contemplative sounds, which Marling then pairs with her voice, an instrument as soothing as it is commanding, and every lyric is delivered with a kind of conversational cadence that hints at a slight curl in the corners of Marling’s lips.

What For? is an ultimately perplexing collection of songs--a mishmash of Bundick’s best and worst musical ideas, but nevertheless a glimpse into an artist who is unafraid to shift into new sonic territory.

The spontaneity they carve sounds scattershot at times, sometimes veering into ludicrous artiness for no reason whatsoever, the dragged-out seven minute instrumental Victoria a fitting example, though they always consolidate their full efforts in a way that’s fun and endlessly listenable.

Deeper plunges headlong into its nightmarish source material with feverish petulance, insisting on the authenticity of its own sorrow.

It’s precisely those confrontational lyrics that make To Pimp A Butterfly an unforgettable album.

While Fantasy Empire is definitely still more of a tweak than a departure, when you’re still producing albums as monstrously savage and bewildering as this over 15 years into your career, those tweaks can still sound pretty damn significant on their own terms.

The storytelling in Carrie & Lowell is as vivid as its always been, only that the focus is his.

Although Sometimes I Sit and Think is musically straightforward, Barnett doesn’t need anything more to tell great stories.

With such masterful creativity and an ability to connect with listeners emotionally, no matter what language they are singing in, Ibeyi may have already released the debut album of the year.

You, Whom I Have Always Hated is a beautifully punishing listen.

The result is the sun-drenched sister of an opiate-subverted Sonic Nurse, the musical equivalent of Coleridge in the afterglow of an acid trip.

It sounds like this would all blow over like a weird, twitchy blur, but Quarterbacks’ hooks and songwriting chops are so incredibly tight and catchy that each moment feels like its own accomplished statement, despite typically only having a few seconds to prove this.

Everything Ever Written even ends with a pleasant curveball, the gorgeous Utopia, an illuminating reverie that poignantly illustrates the measures people take to adapt to their surroundings in spite of the final outcome.

Ratworld wears its influences brazenly on its sleeves, but its execution is impressive, presenting an odd bird view of a world that is ostensibly its own.

On Your Own Love Again is a record about that struggle with transmuting feeling into expression. The grand themes of the album are heavily understated but, well, that’s kind of the point.

The artistry on Shadows In The Night is as sharp as ever, which is a welcome reminder of how Dylan’s songwriting is only half the story. The emotional electricity of his albums stems from his composed and ardent delivery and the sonic poetry of the arrangements surrounding this delivery.

Tillman becomes one of the great diarists of our generation in Honeybear, possessing a keen, merciless intelligence within a sophisticated melodic sensibility.

Aside from a few tracks that feel tossed off, too self-aware in their own weirdness, Hawkline does manage to justify his odd behavior with heaps of whimsical charm.

Many of Sauna’s strongest moments result from Elverum sticking to what he knows best, as well as being the most closely akin to his last two albums.

While the tracks rarely challenge the listener with bold experimentation or chord progressions that range much beyond major-and-minor resolves, Natalie Prass provides a concise amalgamation of R&B, funk, baroque pop, and soul with a consistent through-line.

While Individ is marked with the frantic momentum of an inspired studio creation, it ultimately suffers under the weight of its boldness and reckless abandon.

Range Anxiety is a deeply considered listen, one that relinquishes the audacious idiosyncrasies of Underlay EP in favor of a more scrupulous and intrinsic approach.

Clocking in at a mere 32 minutes, the album is conceptually and sonically tight.

What they do rhythmically and spatially sounds great: the expanse, the air, the solid bass rhythms and percussive malleability.

Everything Else Matters is a strong and accomplished debut by a band that, whilst clearly taking a lot of their cues from the past, are still looking to push sonic boundaries and create intelligent mood pieces.

There’s enough here to please die-hard fans.

There’s a brittle vulnerability present in Viet Cong that triggers an innate sense of curiosity and optimism despite the downtrodden tone it adopts.

Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper can be a particularly infuriating listen since it wanders between moments of greatness and utter tedium.

Sucker is a one-two punch of wit and grit, as irreverently bratty as the lollipop Charli holds on the cover yet never impersonal, perfunctory, or insincere.

Not only is Seeds the most direct and optimistic album, but in some ways, it's their poppiest.

He deconstructs pop conventions within the first five seconds in pom pom with a devilish grin, setting the tone for an uncompromising mélange of hissed art rock that ups the ante even further than the disarmingly twisted Mature Themes.

In spite of the apparent minimalism, Hookworms deliver a sonic feast for the ears that knows how to capture an all-encompassing whole rather than a moment in time. It wants to be everything at once, brightly exposed even if some of its color is lost.

Soused, with its impenetrable construct and heavy ambition, delivers on many fronts, most notable of which is in its thoughtfully composed immensity.

There’s no use putting The Twilight Sad out of their misery if they continue to deliver such a delightfully morose tapestry of color and vitality.

Taiga is a more mainstream album than people may be used to from Zola Jesus. But that is not a bad thing.

It isn't perfect, its sheer restlessness prevents it from being so, but it will undoubtedly come to be remembered as another masterpiece from possibly the greatest electronic composer to walk the earth.

Weirdon is a melodic and enjoyable rock album.

Heartleap is a treasure to withhold, and though it's proclaimed as a departure, it feels both complete and satisfyingly open-ended.

As a title, Wonder Where We Land couldn’t be more appropriate. The answer is somewhere safe, both viable and habitable, but lacking in exhilaration and wonder.

Few artists in this day in age take self-expression through art to heart like Hadreas does as Perfume Genius, and with the sensitive confidence that radiates from Too Bright, he’s mastered in a way few artists never do.

Shellac delivers a very spare and assaultive listen, 33 minutes that fly by and demand repeated listens.

It’s an evocative listen, though they can’t quite break the compulsion to play around with passing fads.

What it loses in irreverence it gains in solemnity and seriousness, but this is still the Zahner-Isenberg of before, ruminating on his past with a conflicted conscience that threatens his every thought.

After you shake off the initial conceptual strangeness, Brill Bruisers builds up to a breathtaking whole.

A lot has happened in 10 years, but DFA’s approach to making ferocious music certainly hasn’t.

Manipulator stands as Segall’s most intricately woven and patiently developed work.

While doom metal is typically considered too droll and meandering for most non-metal fans to penetrate, Foundations of Burden transcends the genre so well that submerging oneself in the album’s striking melodies and crushing riffs feels almost effortless.

After The End is a self-proclaimed pop record with lofty ambitions, after all, and their commitment to a broader aesthetic feels earned and vital.

This album is a grower.

All those flinching sounds can surely give some fatigue after a while, but does it matter when it’s so good at instant gratification.

The album hones a clear message about how society is marred with malicious leeches and false prophets, but it’s just one side of many--most of all, this is Spoon mostly letting loose their perennial white funk, kinda square but almost always rhythmically enticing.

Underwhelming ending aside, it’s fair to say that Del Rey (and her collaborators) have more than risen to the challenge of keeping her a part of the pop culture conversation, for all the right reasons.

Even though it does occasionally dip into overly-saccharine territory--like in the largely plodding End of the Summer--it more often makes for a good match with the band's more heavily melodic--though still energetic--approach.

Trouble in Paradise is at once sleek and solid, every track pulsing with a kind of confidence that invites closer listening but is equally pleasant as a collection of mood-heightening jams.

There are at least five tracks here which are a class apart from anything else they’ve written, and hint at a dexterity and professionalism that hadn’t really been previously evident. On the other hand, it’s probably the least consistent of Slow Club’s three albums so far.

Alvvays takes a decidedly more shambolic direction as it reaches its final half, which is worrisome considering its brief runtime, thereby overstaying its welcome by lacking some much needed punch. But it shouldn’t in any way discourage Rankin’s efforts as the band’s core member, whose astute, lovesick descriptions are more than just a pleasant diversion.

It’s hard not to admire anything PS I Love You puts out simply because it’s done with such a sense of sincerity and craftsmanship.

True, most of the themes on 1000 Forms of Fear are pretty generic, but Sia’s lyrics are bold and visceral, and the production is dynamic without being gimmicky.

Weird Little Birthday is a superb debut, beautifully recorded, with everything in its right place.

It’s all meticulously crafted, but thanks to an easygoing dynamic, each track sounds somehow breezy and nonchalant.

A Sunny Day in Glasgow have shown that no sea is big enough to slow unabashed creativity--in fact, the sea seems less absent and quite fruitful in their case.

Their free form approach is certainly amusing, perhaps too cerebral at times, but that’s just another way of reinforcing they want us to figure out what they’re aiming for.

With the exception of the very syrupy Taiyo No Baka, (an apparently "dark" song despite its relatively chipper demeanor), Noise fuses the best aspects of every genre Boris tackles, perpetuating their evolution with the promise of aggressiveness, distortion and all things wonderfully “loud.”