Tumor hangs everything together with dark and inventive layers of pain that never relent. After Tumor ends things with a glimmer of hope on Ebony Eye, we're enthralled with their journey, eager to see where they will take us next.

We Cater To Cowards has warranted many listens, our current timeline a wealth of ridiculousness breeding targets meant for Oozing Wound’s shrapnel. Again, if you’re missing the joke, you may want to duck.

The tension they harbor throughout can sometimes feel a little too detached for its own good, but that doesn't take away from an otherwise nonlinear experience that has the potential to grow over time.

Sohn masterfully handles a crush of guitar and synths while a small batch of guests provide string embellishments, with Stella Mozgawa (Warpaint) playing drums on a few tracks. Primarily recorded at home, the lack of hiss or other background noise shows Sohn’s proficiency with her approach as well as the technical advances that machines have brought to music.

Hamish Hawk is an outsider’s outsider with a fast-track ticket to natural treasure status. In a just world, the majestic Angel Numbers will make him a breakout star.

Slight missteps do little to deter what is some of the band's most instantly likable tracks in their career, where they turn up one rave-up rocker after the next with wide-eyed fury. Having proven themselves time and time again, they've far outpaced those unwilling to grow up with them.

What's most impressive is there's not a moment wasted in these twelve satisfying tracks, beginning and ending the narrative with a contemplation that also achieves the difficult task of feeling complete.

Complete Mountain Almanac is a superficially pretty album, but you’ll need to afford it your full attention to unearth its full charms and appreciate its emotional depth. Grab your best headphones and really listen; you’ll soon discover there’s something very special going on here.

So, Living Human Treasure is hard to love, but it’s not unlovable. There’s a smart, inventive band at work here, with the potential to rise to the very top of the current class of post-punk acts.

They deliver one unforced, shout-out anthem after another—mirroring the immediate tunefulness of their Canadian counterparts Japandroids' Celebration Rock. Does the celebration get too rowdy for its own good? Well, sometimes. The hook-driven energy can get way ahead of you if you're not fully committed to it. Even so, there's a lot to ponder in their resistance with closer inspection.

Even with its perceived flaws, it offers some real moments of beauty to get swept away in if you're looking for an escape from the world around you.

There's something hypnotic about The Stars that Leave the Stage, one of the most inscrutable and forward-thinking cuts here, on which he establishes a calamitous tension over a spooky piano motif reminiscent of Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds' From Her to Eternity. The band sounds largely more muscular and self-assured, with a terrific rhythm section to boot.

Some aspects of Prize remain a little perplexing—the wordplay doesn't always land, and the slinky-like guitar progressions feel a little like déjà—making it seem like a logical progression and not an artistic leap. But Plain's strengths lie in how she maintains a unique identity regardless of the numerous collaborators, always attuned to her inner world.

Mering has concocted a successor to Titanic Rising that any gambler worth their salt would have no doubt taken the under on. That Mering topped her own prior masterwork is its own reward and one we are no doubt not worthy of.

Alex G’s ninth full-length album, is easily one of his most cohesive works to date.

It’s not simply an incremental improvement. It’s a quantum leap. As far as third albums go, it’s their Forever Changes, Summerteeth, and The Meadowlands rolled into one. It really is monumental. ... It truly is one for the ages.

Quiet the Room is a worthy addition comparable to Julianna Barwick's The Magic Place and The Innocence Mission's We Walked in Song, chamber folk reveries so entrenched in their own little worlds you can practically live inside them.

At times danceable and thoroughly emotive purge.

One could say that her impeccable use of space is what reveals a special intensity to her work, a musical style artists don't often explore as they near the end of their third decade release music. Orton hinted at it through all this time, even if you weren't paying close attention.

Along with a numble of likeminded producers to help fulfill her vision, Parks comes across as an open book, delivering a lushly atmospheric portrayal of a woman who takes pleasure in living in the moment.

Flood is a musical and lyrical leap forward that delivers a multitude of rewards. That it ends in Donnelly’s strongest composition to date makes for literal icing on the cake.

Why Bonnie doesn't break its established mold, but it does sustain an element of surprise throughout that bodes well for whatever comes next.

Segall eases you with his unique charm, but he also tricks you, subtly cranking things up to remind you of his frenzied output. The tone remains largely indistinct throughout, but it also feels like he's begun concocting his next witches' brew.

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.