While Years is pleasant enough, with Somewhere, there’s more of a palpable milieu to these songs that pushes it from good to great.

As it stands, there is a lot to like here and a lot to digest. One advantage to having so many vocalists is that each song can be separated and dealt with accordingly, giving the record the sort of film soundtrack feel I think the principle authors were aiming for. Other than that, this unburdens Sparklehorse fans slightly of the wait between albums by providing a mainly interesting and, at times, genuinely moving distraction.

The earlier albums were hyper and hi-energy affairs whereas Jumping The Tracks is more measured and has a more constructed feel.

If you've embraced Clinic's reverberating panache for the past ten years, there's no reason to dislike Bubblegum's peculiar fabric. This is the sound of a unit that still has no intention in keeping up with the times, delivering more of what they do best with an already proven track record.

Here Before questions its existence as a new chapter for the band while content to see it closed, mentions of transition and introspection at the core of their story. What you can take from it is that its protagonists are aging gracefully and that, if this is their last hurrah, The Feelies are going out strong.

Haines dwells in some synth-driven soul-searching that should’ve been cast aside for a different project. Still, the slick, forceful Art of Doubt accurately identifies where their true strengths lie.

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.

Human Ceremony is an instinctive record, with the band more than happy to act on an impulse. The enthusiasm of the band is infectious, always remaining grounded but delightfully exploring their own infinite limitations.

Into the Waves is an invitation to float. The mature lyrics and vocal performances in conjunction with the flow of disco-like melodies makes you feel like you're walking the fine line between fantasy and reality. It's a lovely indulgence.

Man Alive! fleshes out Krule’s song crafting abilities to make for a slightly more cohesive and concise listening experience, albeit, one that remains perplexing—and still has a killer bite.

Overall, this album was a just-in-time surprise: a musical excursion of folk, soul, rock, and soul-baring honesty--fun to listen to, no matter where or how it is heard.

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.

Even though there aren’t any forcible tracks or extreme depth to this album, it captures an experience that should be played out entirely.

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.

Grace/Confusion is an aptly confounding record, its six tracks very much dissimilar to each other yet held together with a sense of grand gesturing and tireless virtuosity.

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.

Even though it falls apart towards the end and could stand to cut a few songs, Welcome oblivion is a powerful record, both musically and thematically.

It's far and away the finest record Frank Black has produced in a long time, and shows that it's time for the old pretenders to show the new pretenders a thing or two about writing a rock song.

Hear the Lion’s Roar is filled with positivity and joy, and though sometimes the silliness buries some genuinely tuneful compositions, it’s yet another worthy escape that preserves Fair’s endearingly idyllic fancy.

He embraces a lush, widescreen sound with such vigor that even he can't keep up with, causing the album to lose some momentum as it settles into repetition. But Hunter's biting social critique is the focal point from start to finish, revealing his more vulnerable self in the process—a bold reinvention that should follow whichever direction he chooses to take from here on out.

What made Laughter’s Fifth great and this one better than it might otherwise be is his commitment to just plugging in and playing, which gives the music a spontaneity sorely lacking in much of today’s post-digital landscape.

Tell Me is an impressive work. Mayfield shines as she enters new territory in her musical composition and her lyricism.

That the record plays out so consistently and yet flows with such apparent ease is testament to the skills honed by the band since its inception back in Copenhagen in 2000.

Wilderness Heart is probably the best new utilization of the Iommi/Page/Lynott grab bag you'll hear because, to put it simply, it's going to appeal to men AND women.

It sounds like a labor of love through and through, and its painstaking process of development only augments a desire for something exclusive. In all accounts, your satisfaction is most certainly guaranteed.

Wilco has come up with 50% of a classic album and 50% of a merely decent one. Buy it for the moments you simply won’t hear anywhere else.

As a whole, Elements Of Light might feature a fair amount of padding, and it might not be quite as original sounding as the idea would suggest (other than the aforementioned Bjork comparison, there are more than a few moments that recall Aphex Twin at his more contemplative), but even so it does offer more than enough to satisfy as a listening experience, rather than just a curiosity.

Lines is Lynch’s most complete effort, altogether more rhythmically loose and less meticulously detailed.

While few tracks rise to the level of aggression promised by its introduction, Ultima II Massage contains enough wild ideas to maintain an engaging level of oddity.

So, if everything works reasonably well, why does this sound like its lacking something important? It is perhaps the result of long-distance collaboration.

Marauder is a solid record with several decent tracks that will make it a welcome addition to the group's discography.

Maybe it is a recycled sound, obvious in its allegiance to Y and the No Wave, but Mi Ami is compelling, nonetheless.

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.

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.

Recalling only bits of their awkward past-flirtations with electro-pop, this new material feels ripe with a formative momentum that only occasionally misses the mark (the elementary musings behind On a Hill in a Bed on a Road in a House, we can do without).

All in all, the result of Chairlift dabbling in the mainstream pop archetype is the duo’s best and most cohesive album to date.

It’s not going to change the musical horizon, as there’s absolutely nothing new here. But the oldies – the hilarious Chicken Payback, the beautiful 50s ballad I Love You, or the exuberantly wonderful One Glass of Water – are strong enough to make this both a worthy successor and a promise for the future.

Those who love the group for their approach to melodicism and big hooks will find a lot to love about Tomorrow’s Hits, but those who still long for the group’s noisier days will only be further repelled and forced to stick with their first two albums.

Rainier Fog has enough highs mind to comfortably recommend as a must-listen--a lot of this material is what Chains do best.

For all of the melancholy, it's far from a depressing experience; if anything, it's an oddly uplifting album, one that manages to find a great deal of beauty lurking just beneath the ugliness we sometimes find ourselves confronted by.

Pala is music for the here and the now, with a hedonistic samba swing and a cheeky smile – don't start worrying about tomorrow – after all, it's still a day away.

All in all, Instrumental Tourist offers more proof that these two are undisputed masters in their field, regardless of how necessary a collaborative effort like this really is anyway.

Tao of the Dead finally channel their indulgences, creating a heroic symphony that sounds wholly constructed.

At times, the irregular rhythmic contours they employ get woefully tiresome, especially in its rigidly monochromatic second half. But Autolux’s dogged pursuit in doing things their way, and without an hourglass by their side, is worthy of admiration.

It is eccentric and pulsating to the extreme and you exist within its boundless immortality drawing tirelessly from its muse.

It’s well done, fun to listen to, and a damn sight better than 90% of other pop music right now, yet you couldn’t really describe it as essential.

Despite rarely achieving all of what it goes for, it's hard to deny the sheer pleasure of getting the enormous hooks and noise that are constantly on display here.

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.

In substituting the ferocity of their debut for positivity, Eagulls have constructed a very good record that is arguably better than their well-received debut.

ATUM is more sonically consistent than 1995's opus Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. ... Corgan somehow achieved the impossible: a genuinely likable, odd, and even inclusive album that sounds like nothing else in 2023.

It's black metal for prog fans or math rockers, Liturgy's attention to arrangement and speed the sort of maddeningly precise output nerds like that eat up.

While Hitch may kick off poorly, it more than makes up for it by back-ending the tracklist with some of the band's best work.

From the saucy R’n’B of Tide and Chandelier, the frenetic Choking on Your Spit to the gorgeous, laid-bare swoon of Keep Me, Get Gone is an expertly accomplished piece of work from a band still fledgling in their career.

Future Self sounds like a developing band, but one that's developing in some incredible directions. None of it is glaringly new, but they sound quietly innovative, developing their own unique take on indie rock.

With strong, fully realized statements such as Mauve, Ringo Deathstarr are making a strong case for being one of the most vital bands in shoegaze today.

The widening of Banhart’s previously contained and signature sound continues to pay off here, the funky and inviting rubber basslines that are scattered throughout the album particularly memorable.

What emerges is a fascinating, infinitely bleak break-up album, but one without the scope of Disintegration or the raw, intellectual power of Blood on the Tracks.

It’s the kind of record that leaves no stone unturned and surely, during the playback sessions, a warm swell of pride must have risen from within all those involved. And rightly so.

The transformative qualities of Spring reveal themselves with time and patience. What begins as a search ends with a confirmation of newfound clarity, where every location Cohen visits inspires new questions and new experiences.

He's faithful to his musical vision, even as he expands its scope, though there's a fair degree of sameness throughout that makes it a somewhat monochrome listen. Still, it never feels like a chore to weave through Ross' honest, personal songwriting.

And, though, theirs is not the only voice of dissent, they continue to provide an argument against convention. And, it's very convincing.

What they lack in experience they make up for in pure zeal.

His performances are impassioned, though sometimes slightly tedious, adding strings and keys over scruffy folk-rock. Ounsworth even alludes to his past brush of fame on CYHSY, 2005, though what we really get are broad, everyday depictions of the mundane.

Realism strikes a compelling balance between cringing honesty and organic chemistry that comes through in its crystalline composition as well as its more rugged manifestations. Complete reinvention isn’t necessarily reached, but isn’t quite the ultimate goal either.

This is a pop record, and a great one at that. Hints of Elastica, Veruca, Republica, even Neko Case (isten to the country-inspired refrain on That Ain't Right) pepper this satisfying debut.

If you're not a fan of gangster rap, BlackenedWhite is unlikely to change your attitude towards the genre. But for fans, this album is definitely worth checking out.

All in all, a departure from recent forays into overt commercialism that doesn't always work but provides a little U2 juice to keep the true believers happy for a little bit longer.

The Benders sound buttoned-up and clean-cut, infinitely pleasant and inoffensive, one suggestive song title (Pleasure Sighs) notwithstanding.

Overall the band carries off a convincing sense of menace and rocks hard at the same time. It may not be what fans of the original Faust would expect but it's satisfying in a different way, while still maintaining the arch sensibility that made them legendary if not exactly famous.

Even if it does cover too much ground, Clear Shot is another fine effort from a talented band who tend to get caught adrift in their own ways.

Those expecting a more swaggering form of vintage soul will find themselves awfully disenchanted. But for the most part, it still holds together as a serene meditation that vacillates with a refined grace and beauty.

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.

If the new direction disappoints some old fans, though, it’s hard to escape the fact that Vanderslice is an original songwriter with a vision for his material, even if that vision isn’t clear.

If you like your pop music with harmonies and heart then the Explorers Club could well have recorded the soundtrack to your summer.

It's clear that Strange Negotiations is not a wholly secular piece, but Bazan is clearly moving in that direction.

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.

Our Ill Wills surpasses the band’s 2005 debut "Howl Howl Gaff Gaff" because it takes modest chances and expands on the band’s strengths, doing so cordially all the while.

This album then delivers anger, honesty and arrogance, all in sporadic scatter-gun fashion: the overriding feeling is confused, uncertain, often unreasonable, but ultimately well intentioned.

Though not his strongest effort by any means, Fantasy proves that his songs can soar even if he dials it back.

With Frankie Rose and The Outs, her first self-accredited rock music excursion, Rose predictably weaves femininity and cherubic harmonics with garage rock, resulting in a pretty, albeit somewhat tired, retreading of familiar waters.

Passive Me, Aggressive You is undoubtedly a pop album, and an impressive one at that. There's a nice blend of intensity and honesty here, which TH&F will do well to maintain in their future career.

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.”

Fortunately, The Thermals like to venture into unfamiliar territory--songs sound more spacious when they need the breathing space; bass lines will override a song when guitars ought to blend in. And then there are the lyrical themes--listeners take their so-called simplicity for granted, provided they come up to the requisite standard of conceptual excellence.

Nothing here really rivals For "Emma" but this is a lovely and worthy EP.

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

It's an album wrought with nostalgia, fuzzy-tape hiss, and unbelievable musicianship that any fan of Koster will surely eat right up.

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

Sequenced beautifully to balance lyrical narratives with haunting instrumentals, it’s another Six Organs of Admittance album...but so much more.

Contrary to the slipshod musicianship of their older peers, September Girls are more than competent unit that model themselves accurately with a toughened exterior, and most of the flaws arise out of its production inconsistencies; the most glaring being the distracting interchange between vocal clarity and obfuscation between tracks, and the whirring fuzz is stretched out far too thin.

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.

Temples aren’t shy in applying a hazy, glitzy gloss to a lot of their work, but the strength of an ungarnished tune--Oh! The Saviour--shows that their rare disrobed moments can be stronger than their decorated ones.

The record is nothing new, but he somehow manages to make it all his own.

Where The Heaven Are We is a solid start for B-Town’s latest export, and when considered the almost fainéant construction, there’s probably a lot more to come from this lot.

Its intensity has style, whatever Zeros lacks in substance or license, and an enjoyably infectious pulse that's consistent up until the final bits of backwards sound rotates during ƨbnƎ ƚI.

Attention Please makes them into something more profound: an often puzzling albeit enthralling and super-malleable "fuck you" to the safety of classification.

While Corgan feels reinvigorated, utterly convinced that's he's finally nailed it this time, the final product doesn't hold up as an entirely ingenious one.

In Heaven certainly does enough to make an initial impact, and on its own, it's hard to ignore.

Even when it seems a bit disjointed on close inspection, it's when you take a step back that this album really comes into focus.