Farm to Table, in some ways, is Bartees’ sunrise. It’s proof of his undeniable spark. As Farm to Table demonstrates, Bartees Strange is only getting started.

Like A Moon Shaped Pool and Suspiria, Wall of Eyes is moodier and more sparse, like how a tree is in the winter. The tracks are like long branches stretching out, each textured by their own idiosyncrasies, complications and sonic movements, but are still clearly part of the same root.

Providing newfound comfort and warm familiarity, abysskiss is a record that will quickly find its way into your heart and slowly caress your soul.

Because it doesn’t cohere quite as much as their previous output, Spare Ribs wouldn’t necessarily be the album you point to in order to make that case, but it’s not short on charm or growth, so it doesn’t detract from the argument, either.

Seek Shelter is ultimately less effective in its catchiness and sheer force, considering its occasionally clunky sequences, but Iceage attempting to write songs of unprecedented magnitude this far into their career is admirable. The album’s greatest triumph is its finale, “The Holding Hand,” which plays to their tension-building strengths.

Occasional lulls are superseded by his dense vision and quicksilver genre flashes. Hearing Strange come into his own is not only essential listening in 2020, but it’s also reflective of the current complexities of American culture, demographics and socio-economics.

All That Reckoning proves the Junkies still have insights to offer on our most pressing social issues--if only they’d commit more boldly to exploring their best ideas.

Disarming, and maybe slightly disingenuous, Boniface shows very clearly that Visser has full control, along with a wide-open heart and a keen ear. They make the most of those attributes, which coalesce into a first-rate debut LP.

These songs politely roll in like a sleepy cloud of fog, each one a little puff of mist no more distinguishable than the one before it. There are highlights, of course.

They make “tossed-off” and “slight” sound like the utmost virtues, and most of these songs sound like they were recorded in real time.

From a conceptual standpoint, Darnielle has achieved an exclusive analysis of the brooding would-be darkwaver, though the brilliance of the inside jokes could fall on deaf, pale ears here.

Ambitious, Parry conjures rather than creates in concrete. The fierce regimentation gives way to something watery, something that pulls things out of you.

They’ve followed up a cult-fave album (or in this case, two) with an effort that preserves the band’s strengths while also showcasing artistic growth and illuminating a path forward.

From the sustained discomfort captured in a ringing bassline on “Talking to the Whisper” to soft waves of ambient synth soundscapes on instrumental track “Ocean,” every choice on Something in the Room She Moves feels effortless.

It’s a brilliant next step into the intersection between alt-pop and New Age, offering an over-the-top spiritual experience with enlightening reflections on the power to crush and regenerate.

Through a unified blend of graceful melodies and powerful vocals, William Elliott Whitmore generates a sincere message-to reap a sweet harvest of happiness, listeners must work through the fields of pain.

23's mannered downtown aura and etched elegance are sustained for its duration, marking it as one of the prolific band's finest to date. [Apr 2007, p.55]

Ryley Walker’s talents are enormous. The praise for his second full-length ought to be the same.

On Parks’ long-awaited debut album Collapsed in Sunbeams, her narratives remain vivid and often crushing. Likewise intact is her vibrant fusion of rock, jazz, folk and hip-hop.

Any new Total Control music is worth having in the world, even if, as Laughing does, it feels like the group is holding back somewhat.

Likewise is a record full of little, unrelated moments that manage to create a world of their own when put together. That world isn’t always pleasant—it’s often an anxious and distressing one—but it’s also full of vivid color and meticulous detail.

The result is engaging, if not terribly lasting.

The Window, may, in fact, be the band’s best yet. .... Ratboys showcase, over and over again, their considerable skill for making songs that are emotionally raw and sonically polished, intrinsically rootsy and invariably catchy.

More than one or two standout tracks, Hive Mind goes down easy as a whole; an even-keeled, laid-back drift in and out of The Internet’s signature and sophisticated soundscape. Sprinkled with codas and half-songs, the effect is natural, not jarring, like turning down an alley, or rounding a city street and stumbling into another story.

It’s not the most high-profile roster. ... All the same, Mercer, Campbell, Upton and Seller are as compelling a lineup as Frog Eyes have had, and the foursome has made an album that exerts a powerful gravitational pull. While it’s a shame Violet Psalms is their farewell, it’s hard to imagine a more triumphant way to go.

Much of b’lieve remains mellower and more cognizant than Vile’s previous works, blending organic and inorganic sounds.

It’s another glorious achievement for an artist who has created so much amazing art since arriving into the world fully formed way back in 1982.

Despite the songs’ substantial vigor, they don’t build to obvious climaxes, and their intros and outros are often abrupt. The twists and turns that occur within the thick of things are where songs really take off, as elements elegantly alternate between the foreground and background. The album features some of their most endearing and memorable vocal moments yet.

The Whole Love reveals itself as their finest album since Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

Each and every song sticks out musically for one reason or another--whether it’s the groovy bass line of “Sick of Words,” or the various movements of “Somewhere Unoccupied.”

He takes a minimalist approach to the nine songs on Starter Home, focusing mostly on acoustic guitar and his warm, slightly rumpled voice. There are adornments here and there from violin, keyboards and steel guitar, which add texture and atmosphere to songs that seem unassuming until you listen closely enough to hear just how devastating they are.

Not recommended for people with heart conditions or pregnant mothers, but for those of you looking for visceral thrills, this is it.

Transgender Dysphoria Blues is a perfect storm of great songwriting paired with some timely, frank admissions from Grace.

It may not be perfect from start to finish, but Weathervanes again affirms Isbell’s place as an Alabama legend—right there next to Saban.

A study in elemental force that rides the line between thrash and plod with enlightened originality and compositional skill to spare. [Dec 2006, p.89]

This is the relentless effect of Full Communism: an album that makes you think, an album that urges you to take action, an album encompassed by an energy that cannot be summarized.

The instrumental work by the session musicians on Pearls To Swine may be rather remarkable, as is the production work by Erik Wofford, but at the end of the day, it’s Torres’ natural soundscapes and elaborate imagery that brilliantly twinkles throughout this piece of art.

Pretty much every song, when listened to individually, is far from lacking emotional impact, indicating that Paul’s sweet spot exists within the realm of midtempo, linear songs. To have nine such hymns packaged into one album is itself a gift—call it a token of friendship.

Active Listening: Night on Earth is a both resplendent listen and an acquired taste. Not every listener will take pleasure in the band’s blustery dissonance, but those who do will be rewarded with dense pop riches and deeply poignant, poetic lyrics.

Black Lightning is rife with minimally detailed yet fully rendered character sketches, and Naggar’s deftness at seamlessly weaving dissonant guitar lines into her riveting stories elevates her music well above much of the crowded folk-adjacent field.

Dream is a go-for-broke collection that not only creates and sustains a hi-fi drowse-pop drama throughout its 10 beguiling songs, but comes across like a logical and gorgeous extension of all the band’s previous dreams.

Mary Gauthier is a natural-born yarn-spinner, and her latest album--an autobiographical account of childhood abandonment and failed reconciliation--is quintessential Gauthier: tender and pained, yet ultimately harmonious.

On live disc Ramble at the Ryman, with a characteristically exuberant blend of rock, blues, country, and folk, Helm proves himself once again to be one of our most vibrant conservators of traditional Americana.

They've been freaks; they've been lover-boys. Now they're spaced-out romantics.

The results of these experiments can be on the nose, like doing a gender switch on Brazilian extreme metal act Sarcofago.... Others take a little bit of unpacking.

It’s a Giving Tree scenario, spun out with strings and a subdued power-ballad build, and it sets the stage for the worldly decay catalogued throughout (a)spera with the help of several gifted collaborators.

Major/Minor is nothing short of very good (with emphasis on "very").

The most sublime moments on Pang match the all-cylinders feeling of falling into new love, each neuron so stimulated by the feeling that they threaten to overload and collapse entirely.

Much of the joy in Reset comes in instances like these where Lennox and Kember wholeheartedly embrace the sounds of the past with a distinctly contemporary approach.

A boldly traditional, and fantastically well-rounded album of rock ‘n’ roll.

Having zigged for a while, Godspeed zags (of course) on G_d’s Pee, bringing back some of the inscrutable elements that made the band so interesting in the first place.

From beginning to end, it's as heartwarming and heartbreaking an album as you're likely to hear this year. [Aug 2006, p.86]

She's closely attentive to the particulars of her folk songs, which allows them to reveal deeper and darker secrets with each listen and to resonate long after the record has stopped spinning.

Servant of Love--Griffin’s first new work since both 2013’s reflective American Kid and Silver Bell (recorded in 2000 but released 13 years after the fact)--takes the Maine-born songwriter to more complex, yet spare musical planes.

What keeps every song on Touch so engaging is how they all change moods at the drop of a hat.

As an exercise in exploring the various strains of left-of-center country and roots music, Years is spot on.

It’s a remarkable, haunted and resonate touchstone for rock and roll, a record unafraid of its own emotions and openness—full of stories worth returning to and untangling a hundred times over.

When Horses Would Run comes as close to that perfect commendation as a debut album can possibly get.

When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? has its faults, not quite hitting its full potential, but it gets damn well close, delivering an infectious record for the post-party hangover.

Album closer “Meant to Be” is maybe the best song on the album. It’s uptempo, for one thing, with electric guitars that circle and soar above a bed of synthesizers and a propulsive beat that help Tweedy’s melody take flight. It’s a reminder of how good Wilco can be at their best, even if that’s a standard the band doesn’t always reach on Cousin.

Amidst blistering tritone riffs and arpeggiated chords is a group keener to explore sonic harmony than crank the distortion. Crack the Skye is an epic trek across the space-time continuum, entirely on Mastodon’s terms.

Texas Piano Man is exactly what it sounds like: a cross between country-blues and piano-pop. Ellis surely knows his way around the keys, and his fifth studio album is funny, frank and alive. It’s a storyful, self-realized album that also happens to be a hell-of-a good time to listen to.

What could be unwieldy becomes a vast patchwork of influences buoying empowerment.

To say Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper is a textural album is probably stating the obvious, but it very much is, in a way where the individual tracks feel simultaneously adventurous and tamed.

While how i’m feeling now is by no means Charli’s most genre-pushing work, nor an indication of the creative potential she has left, it will be remembered as a quintessential 2020 album—not just because of its unique recording constraints, but because of the passion, authenticity and work ethic interwoven in every fuzzy beat and every sprightly, lovelorn lilt of Charli’s most intimate vocal work to date.

Yellow & Green casts off the shackles of expectation while simultaneously taking a measured step in the direction of accessibility.

It’s the one of the best QOTSA records to date.

Despite all the tenebrosity, or maybe because of it, Hoop is chasing human connection on this album, which teems with delicate acoustics and sneaky electronic elements. She seems wholly concerned with examining empathy—even for gross internet trolls—in a world deprived of it, and there are few quests as noble.

Wilds is all killer and no filler, not taking itself all that seriously—instead, it opens up and gives us honest glimpses into how a relationship came together and failed, without forgetting to showcase the parts where hopeful sparks just never really had it in them to turn aflame in the first place.

At times, Houck’s revelations can get lost into an aimless fog of luscious sounds created by these music industry veterans—especially evident on “Fences,” where Phosphorescent’s meditations on a relationship in decay get obscured by a samesy blur of pedal steel and organ. .... But the upside of Revelator’s polished and highly cohesive sound is that even relatively minor switch-ups can prove thrilling by comparison.

It took a few listens for In Conflict to really hit, but, like a friendship that grows deeper with time, I can’t imagine not having the album around now.

ÁTTA is a welcome return to form and beyond for the band, ten years removed from their last studio release, and their partnership with a 41-piece orchestra is both logical and awe-striking.

As easy as it is to enjoy, there is something fleeting in its pleasures, as if it isn’t quite complete without occupying the same spaces as the band.

The result is a rich, nuanced pop album that feels like something French from the late ’60s.

While far from a masterpiece, Ty Segall provides a neatly packaged summary for why the singer is a modern rock ‘n’ roll treasure.

Europe continues down the path set in 2010 and pushes forward with humble richness.

She’s embracing herself, her heartbreak, her sarcasm and taking time to dance, slowly, with her feelings.

For all its careful historical detail and empathetic characterizations, Canary is decidedly topical: This historical setting becomes a means for a band of bookish young men to understand their own place and time.

It’s a long way from his turns as go-to Disney film composer, but on Dark Matter, Newman’s versatility, as ever, transcends pigeonholing and illuminates the smart aleck-y nature (with the emphasis on smart) of one of the world’s great songwriters once again.

Broken Social Scene builds on gentle nuances, compounding its effect incrementally with each track.

Producer Brian Deck understands that Beam's music is fragile. [Apr/May 2005, p.132]

At Weddings is filled with such a powerful, saintly aura that even the most ugly subject matters can spur flawless, beautiful results.

This is an artfully conceived and executed, heartfelt and evocative work, and I suspect it's precisely the kind of album Garvey and his mates wanted to make, and in the U.K. - where it was released in early March - the reviews have been uniformly rhapsodic.

These are some of the sweetest and sauciest love songs ever recorded, and no one should have any doubt that he means every word of them. This set should also lay to rest any questions about the importance of Half Japanese.

The Waiting Room already feels like Tindersticks’ strongest and most adventurous release since the hiatus.

Warm Chris thrives in that new flexibility, using Harding’s expanded sound to consider the implications of professional and interpersonal performance in turns across its 10 tracks.

It is the details that make Prophet explode.

It’s frank and fresh in its fashion, carrying darkness and unguarded emotions on crests of S-tier artistry.

Lyrics have always been the focal point of Bazan's music, and here they carry a vast majority of the weight.

If his latest album doesn’t quite rise to the level of Bring the Family or Slow Turning, well, that’s a high bar, and Hiatt is not the same person as he was in his mid-30s. But the past is past, and The Eclipse Sessions is strong enough to make an impression of its own.

The sound is more psychedeli-danceable than ever.

Someday, other band names will disappear from Kiwi Jr.’s reviews as the quartet further develops its sound. Football Money is evidence they’ve clearly got the ability and the point of view to do exactly that. Until then, they’re working from a world-class playbook.

At just over a half hour long, it's more EP than album, but even these (ostensible) B-sides make for a giddy and infectious sprint.

America is still undoubtedly an epic, but maybe not the world-addressing opus that Deacon might've wanted to make.

Renegade’s biggest success is its brevity: At 10 songs and 37 minutes, it’s the shortest record the band has ever made; it’s in and out before you have a chance to tire of this new sound.

The songs on Tides of A Teardrop are slow-tempoed and even-tempered, but in a way that feels emotionally powerful. That calm nearly becomes monotony as the record edges to a close.

It stitches psychotic school dance vibes among the surf garage in a hurried splendor.

Now Only is still as wrenching and direct as its predecessor, but concerns itself, at times, with the bitter truth that, sooner rather than later, he’ll be gone, too.