The stormy, steely drones and security-camera rhetoric can almost feel like he's compensating for something. But that doesn't stop it from being weirdly charming through its relentless sneer.

Mazy Fly is idiosyncratic, but in a thoughtful and imaginative way that is too appealing to resist.

Add it all up, and you’ve got a bunch of killer parts that fit perfectly together, and a band that’s even bigger than the sum of those parts.

Strawberry Mansion, named for a neighborhood in Philadelphia where both of Slim’s grandfathers grew up, is a little shaggy around the edges, and probably could’ve done with a four-song trim. But it offers a clear look at one songwriter’s experiences during a monumental cultural moment and frames them within his own personal struggles.

The songwriting is first-rate, and the minimalist aesthetic suits these tunes in a way that more elaborate arrangements and polished production never would.

This lush, lustful record contains some of Sivan’s most adventurous work to date, with its global influences and club-ready beats vividly evoking the catharsis of being in touch with yourself and your community.

While it’s certainly still working for him now—This Is Happening is, in all respects, LCD’s best album—it doesn’t take much to imagine the act becoming a tired gag a couple more albums down the line.

It’s what you should put on when you don’t want to think; aggressive, enveloping, and with just enough of a bite to corroborate your deeply held belief that you’re not one of them.

From the majestic opening notes of the title track to the last electronic flourish of closer “Modern Love Stories,” Once Twice Melody is the culmination of everything Beach House do best.

No Holiday works well as both a Muffs album and also a tribute to Shattuck’s skill, vision and drive.

He was better known for his studio acumen and production work than his own songs, yes, but his solo albums are revered among those lucky enough to have heard them. The Hex will only bolster his legacy.

Though the atmosphere surrounding Giants of All Sizes is much heavier than on any of the band’s other records this decade, Garvey still finds some hope through it all. The final three songs (“My Trouble,” “On Deronda Road” and “Weightless”) are optimistic as he discovers strength in his loved ones and friends in the reverberation of all of the recent negative events in his life.

Souvenir never feels nostalgic. It’s too fast-paced, with only one song extending past three-and-a-half seconds. It’s too brisk, mechanical and brittle to deal in memories. The album shines when it delivers those high-octane moments of rock. These are no souvenirs; they’re gifts for the present.

Treats is just a whole goddamn lot of fun to listen to. It's a supremely raw and visceral pop masterwork, one appropriate to rocking out with headphones on, windows-down bumping on car stereos, four-A.M. warehouse dance parties and countless other summer moments that'll soon have soundtracks courtesy of Sleigh Bells.

While the band isn’t immune to occasional aimlessness on tracks like “Sub Rosa” and “Heat,” their debut album should be praised for what it is—a strong record with memorable melodies, lovely vocals, impactful lyrics and some of the best guitar playing you’ll hear this year.

A deeply internalized album, it’s The National at their Nationalest. It is, as well, a collection of songs about songs: clever but not meta, and thankfully never cute or self-impressed.

It’s this friction between the worldly and the cosmic, the erotic and the angry, that gives these songs their unique spark.

One of the things that works so well on this six-song album is that it shaves away some of the psych rock of the parent band and lets the fragmentations remain.

After clocking more hours in the studio this time around, the band sound even more assured. On Blue Skies, those telltale hooks manifest themselves again on nearly every song.

Live at Canterbury House, the latest in a series of live recordings from his archives, is pretty simple-left track is voice, right track acoustic guitar. Simplicity, as is evident here, serves him quite well.

Remnant’s vision is so utterly singular, weird and compelling that you’ll stick around for this mapless journey. God only knows where they’re going, but being lost is most of the fun.

The band emphasizes Mayfield’s heroic message, fueling their instruments with triumphant riffs and raw, stopping-for-no-one licks.

First and foremost, the sound quality of these 11 tracks are a major improvement, with Birgy’s vocals mixed above ground, not buried. The performances sound sharper, too: Guitar strings are crisp, keys dance with verve and horns occasionally streak across the sky. Even the experimental touches—a weird echo here, an abrasive noise there—sound like you can reach out and touch them.

Here’s betting their sophomore effort significantly expands Dogleg’s sound. Or maybe they spin too fast and break apart. Either way, Melee is a worthy debut for a very promising band.

Unpredictably unique. [Dec 2005, p.126]

Bruner’s playing—and, increasingly, his writing as well—is so distinctive he’s able to own it even as he tones down his outsize personality. Many modern artists have mined these sounds, but few have honored them quite like Bruner does on It Is What It Is.

The collection offers a glimpse inside the band’s development, and at times has an air of what might have been even as it reinforces Tweedy’s overall artistic vision.

Between 1975-84, he made Born to Run, Darkness on the Edge of Town, The River, Nebraska and Born in the U.S.A.—five outright classics. Though Western Stars doesn’t rise quite to that level—it’s an impossibly high standard—Springsteen’s latest entry in such a storied catalog more than holds its own.

It’s a beautiful blast of humanity on an album--a perplexing, fascinating, absorbing album--that often feels outside normal human grasp.

Through it all, Nelson sounds as strong as ever.

Listening to it feels like sitting down and soaking in the stories of someone who has seen it all, written in a direct, uncomplicated and emotionally resonant way.

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever have more tricks up their sleeves, it seems. For a debut, though, a couple tricks are enough, especially when you’ve already mastered them.

There is distinct pastoral element at work in the Tallest Man on Earth's songs. He invokes the elements and the myriad forces nature: rivers, islands, rocks, clouds, birds, meadows, rainstorms, hail, forests, weeds, lilies and wheat.

Pratt has a very, very restrained way of supplying strength and relief during our hectic moment. Her songs are so quiet they almost don’t even exist, but maybe that’s how we need to feel for just a moment--like we’re just air.

Prelude to Ecstasy is one of the strongest debut albums in recent memory, an incredible introduction that creates an inescapable feeling that we are bearing witness to the birth of a generational talent.

Far from formulaic, Cronin’s sophomore release, MCII, is a nuanced collage of quintessentially “California” pop songs--or, at the very least, how the rest of the country perceives such songs to look and feel.

If Kelly Lee Owens gently opened the door between dream pop and techno, Inner Song rushes through it and builds a world where ecstatic, curative, untethered electronic sounds abound. Owens’ strides are most evident in Inner Song’s club cuts.

One of the more impressive things about Say What You Mean is Weiss’ ability to stretch her songwriting to give each track its own distinct vibe that keeps the album fresh over multiple listens.

It’s a record that often elevates the listener through its integrity and intensity, and sometimes grates through its failure to find the right music to express its complex lyrical sentiments.

Olsen shares graciously in her music, and if you are willing, Burn a Fire for No Witness will change your world. Or, actually, it will change how you see your world.

Each track deserves mention. Knowing Superchunk, Diarrhea Planet, Ben Kweller, Andrew Bird & Nora O’Connor, Mike Watt and the Missingmen are just a few of the other stand-outs shows why Bloodshot, two decades in, remains so compelling.

While expanding his sound, however, Nourallah doesn’t stray for too long from a core concern of his writing--how to move brightly through a crumbling world.

The overwhelming magnificence of “Dawn Chorus” distracts—but not detracts—from everything else. There’s a good chance ANIMA will be remembered as “The Album With Dawn Chorus On It,” and that’s not a bad problem to have, just one that unfortunately makes it much easier to ignore the other incredible tracks on here. It’s just what happens when you make the centerpiece of your album one of the best songs you’ve ever written.

Fortunately, Sparkle Hard lives up to the hype. It is warm and approachable, filled with punchy songs, adventurous arrangements, a few admirable experiments and enough memorable moments to demand repeat plays. This is a top-tier Jicks album, alongside 2003’s Pig Lib, 2001’s self-titled effort, and 2011’s Mirror Traffic.

The first new Breeders album in a decade, sounds--predictably, gloriously--like The Breeders.

This doesn’t negate the power of Sometimes, Forever, a record that will be noted for its big swings, but rather reinforces it. When a band is able to thrive both inside and outside their comfort zone, it is built to last. The release of Sometimes, Forever is just another indication that Soccer Mommy will persevere in the face of an industry that is always changing.

It turns out that subtlety suits them, and if Look to the East, Look to the West isn’t as immediately grabby as past albums were, these songs are nonetheless built to last.

The duo’s recent fascination with 21st-century disconnection continues, but the bombast is louder and the tranquility is quieter, and in focusing on lucid melodies and unobscured fidelity, they’ve created their most visceral work yet.

It’s a slim volume to add to the Timony collection--never ambitious but absolutely fun, a record from three women who feel comfortable with each other and just want to play loud.

More than half a century since Cohen proved himself to be someone worth listening to. Thanks for the Dance, Cohen’s fifteenth and potentially final studio album, shows that little has changed in that regard. Whether he’s singing about sex or death, or whatever else, Cohen’s voice remains indispensable.

Although Carry Fire seemingly follows the same formula as his previous effort with the Space Shifters, 2014’s Lullaby and…The Ceaseless Roar, his sound is ever-changing, experimenting with the science of otherworldly instrumentation.

She handcrafts everyday situations into something angelic yet relatable and celebratory yet poignant. Her appeal extends well beyond the realms of pop as there’s a distinct, developed lyrical voice and a dynamic, extraordinary literal voice that makes 2018 feel much less scary and isolating and much more pure and magical.

A 36-minute story, Don’t Forget Me is Rogers’ shortest project thus far. It is also her most sonically and lyrically cohesive, featuring some of her most captivating, folkloric songcraft yet. Allowing the listeners to create a world around her words and sounds, Rogers is at her best when she keeps it simple and sweet.

Nest is an album of incredible scope and emotional tension, and though there’s hardly a moment to rest, its strident beauty will restore you just the same.

He isn’t interested in avoiding the unsavory details of life— instead, he finds ample space on Negro Swan to indulge them. Perhaps too little are those works that refuse to address the anxieties and gifts of black queerness, to turn its pains into pleasure the way Hynes does. It’s a habit shared by indefinable virtuosos like Prince or Michael Jackson; Negro Swan, like its 2016 predecessor Freetown Sound, proves that Hynes is of their caliber.

It’s Lizzo’s energy solidified--everything you love about her, wrapped up in one twerkable package bursting with bold statements, bad bitches and, perhaps most notably, bops.

Of these three reissues [Cotton-Eyed Joe, Green Rocky Road, and 1966], 1966 is arguably the best, by virtue of the setting itself.

With a sprawling soundscape and off-the-wall lyrics, Dark Day/Light Years is a quite trip--often in more ways than one.

The [anti-war] track hits so hard, in fact, that it renders much of the other material inconsequential.

The album as a whole, though uneasy listening, is big, powerful, and often overwhelming.

A compact, 10-track summer spin—a quick, sophisticated string of punches. And with instrumental chef Kenny Beats at the production helm once again, the record is a beautiful arrangement of confessional conversation verging on slam poetry.

For enthusiasts of the genre it's an indispensable staple and a welcome rediscovery. [Dec 2006, p.102]

Not everyone will be pleased, but those hooked on Swim will be thrilled.

Currents is a record you should be excited for, paying attention to and ready to consider the best of the year.

A small percentage of individuals may find The Gloaming’s music obscure due to the lack of English lyrics. However, if you’re a fan of this type of work and are into discovering art from different places in the world, you should definitely join the party.

The immediacy of the melodies--simpler and scrappier than she’s written in years--paired with the snarl of the arrangements, gives Pussycat a rumbling, cathartic honesty ideal for the anger of our times.

The sophomore record sounds like a concept album about change: changing relationships, changing surroundings, changing perspectives and changing within oneself, often without even realizing it.

Like most of her work, McKenna’s latest is a family-centered collection of rootsy folk songs, and as usual, she finds profundity in the ordinary moments of everyday life. McKenna’s attention to detail, and the way she makes universal sentiments suddenly, and piercingly, specific, are why her songs are special enough to have earned the deep respect of her fellow folk singers, and to have caught the ear of the big-ticket country stars who have recorded them.

That it’s No Joy’s most ambitious album yet, as Paste pointed out in highlighting Motherhood as one of August’s most exciting releases, is not up for debate; that it’s their best is not much more of a discussion.

Anaïs Mitchell is a grownup album. It’s the first great folk album of the year, but more crucially, it’s a quiet personal triumph for Mitchell herself. Disclosing one’s own truths rarely sounds this graceful.

Even if Heavy Ghost doesn’t feel fully unfurled--or if it unfurled for too long, with all those years spent gestating--Stith still continues to demonstrate his symphonic talents and deep care for texture and timbre.

God’s Country is as deftly ugly as its namesake, searing in its approach, forcing you to confront the black heart at the core of a rotting nation.

Jacklin displays a newly developed maturity in PRE PLEASURE’s 10 near-perfect songs, while maintaining her talent for crafting hooky indie rock that often catches you off guard with its emotional weight.

Underlining their strengths and achieving the purest zenith of their eccentric stylings. Everyone’s Crushed shines an incandescent limelight on Water From Your Eyes at the absolute height of their powers; it’s their best work yet.

What’s most impressive about ULTRAPOP is not necessarily the killer riffs, the pummeling rhythms or the plentiful melodies, though all of those are consistently thrilling. What’s most impressive is the way this band brings together different, disparate styles in a way that sounds seamless and natural and new, even if others have done it before.

It is surely no coincidence that Sling’s best songs are the ones written solely by Cottrill, while a handful of her six co-writes with Antonoff—“Bambi,” “Partridge,” “Little Changes”—never quite take shape, instead spending a few minutes as an unmemorable mush of baroque studio-pop. ... Which brings us back to “Blouse” and another song credited only to Cottrill, “Just for Today.” Because of their relative lack of adornment, these are the tracks that stand out on Sling.

However stark the departure from his comfort zones, Lerche seems enlivened by the change. That effortless facility with instantly-memorable melodies enables choruses to suddenly erupt full-flourish or drift along as a quoted jingle. The effect is thrilling and supremely confident, with almost casual intimacy.

Beam has managed to tweak and in?ate his signature sound without sacri?cing any of its considerable charm.

There’s a warmth to this symbiosis that’s new for Patton, and while it may not be as explosive a revelation as Black Origami was, it makes for a record that feels like a vital new step in Jlin’s evolution as an artist.

It is precisely this linkage between systematized death and riches that makes the album such a mortifying listen and perhaps the most essential of 2024.

These tracks are among Lenker’s most striking and emotionally nuanced. While it lacks the musical dynamism of abysskiss, songs’ lyrics are more potent and detailed.

Coupled with some of the loosest, most pop-minded production of Snaith’s career, Suddenly becomes a glimmer of optimism, immaculate music for communal grief and celebration. In that, it’s the most vital album of his career.

Second Hand Heart is put together like a great live set.... The album also realizes that rare goal of gaining steam and strength as it carries forward.

The duo impressively join a raft of other legacy artists (David Bowie, Black Sabbath) in proving that getting older doesn’t mean you have to lose your passion for creativity or, in the case of Electric, your libido.

Bridgers stans a noirish, haunting, folk-pop, Baker an emotionally-scorching rock and Dacus a literary take on guitar music. On boygenius, however, the three become one, miraculously and pristinely so. Bridgers, Baker and Dacus pack a novel’s worth of narrative and as many masterful melodies (not to mention harmonies) into just 21 minutes that will leave you feeling as if you’ve had the wind knocked right out of you.

Modern Vampires is Rostam Batmanglij’s album. Like a character actor stealing the movie from the lead, he pretty much owns these songs, filling them with eccentric flourishes of sound that are both jarring and perfect.

The most remarkable thing about The King, however, is that its synthesis of sound and vision makes it feel so thoroughly like a monumental record.

It’s a true piece of art, and we’re lucky Godspeed You! Black Emperor gave listeners a proper document.

El Camino is yet another ear-pleasing installment in the catalog of a consistently impressive band.

There’s plenty to chew on with his latest, Dream River. And that’s just the lyrics, whose weightiness is given more heft by his controlled baritone.

Her’s is a sound that’s daunting and distinctive, brash yet beguiling.

Her robust voice keeps these tracks on the right side of the cheesy/affecting divide, exemplifying Hold the Girl’s niftiest trick. Often, when Sawayama looks back on her past to inform her present, she leans into her new collaborators’ radio-pop bona fides and sings her way into earnestness.

Tha Carter III hearkens to when rap meant rapp: Isaac Hayes talking for days about some girl he broke with, or Bobby Womack signifying while strumming a blues guitar.

Good Souls Better Angels is proof that even legends like Lucinda don’t just leave their best work behind them one day: They keep writing and making as long as they can, challenging people to listen to their newest music with the notion that it could be some of their best.

Given all the heavy ideas and emotions on Any Shape You Take, it’s a minor miracle how bright and immediate it all sounds, without a whiff of self-seriousness or schmaltz.

Ultimately, One Day comes with an interesting narrative that gives people like me something to write about, and as an experiment, it was surely a challenge and a creative accelerant. These are all good things.

The album succeeds wholly on its immediacy, and both its soundscapes and directionless lyrics slap you in the face with its message. It’s impossible to listen to The Collective without knowing exactly what Kim Gordon is talking about.

Ty Segall has made a massive album that not only celebrates that freedom he’s carved out for himself, it also effectively summarizes the journey so far. And it’s pretty darn listenable to boot. It may very well be his greatest accomplishment yet.