As their third album in 25 years, V for Vaselines showcases a surprisingly staid band, but one that occasionally flashes its early brilliance for listeners.

Sleep Well Beast is anything but complacent and it doesn’t skew from the high-caliber rock and roll the band has been producing since day one.

A series of spry, spirited pop meditations on love and lust and discovery, KT Tunstall's third album sounds like the soundtrack for a film in which the successful, single protagonist finds herself by losing everything and falling in love.

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

The result is a hermetic record that is practically self-contained within a computer hard drive. Yet Have We Met never lacks for atmosphere, or a sense of unpredictability that feels kinetic.

The artist’s stories work as not-quite-parables, with no message tumbling through and pushing everything along, but certainly asking the listener to spend time with whatever part of themselves they see in the twists and turns. And even when it’s hard, Shauf’s music makes self-reflection a temptation too inviting to resist.

While there are fewer barbs and the atmosphere is less filigreed, as with Belle & Sebastian , you’re either down with the twee or not. Tuneful as this is, it’s hard to write it off without feeling like a rockist grinch.

It’s not a game-changer, career-wise--Russell doesn’t need one--but it’s perhaps a work that will gain him the broader recognition he has long deserved.

Perhaps the only real drawback of the LP is that it never quite reaches the emotional resonance that we’ve seen from Built to Spill in the past. But it wisely steers clear of overly reflective ballads.

You can sense the solitude and fear in his warbling slacker-rock epics, and the solitude went beyond sheer internal turmoil: Fulvimar also played every instrument on the album.

There's always something innervating about Mould in this punk setting, when the songs seem to propel themselves and he somehow finds a home in the maelstrom.

Throughout five mesmerizing tracks, Texas Moon invites listeners into that special world. It’s a world where time moves at a delicate pace and where that classic American road trip detours through the scenic route.

Songs like these [“Killin’ Time” and closer “Motel Room”] showcase the best of Diamond Rugs’ penchant for big riffs and bawdy entertainment, but the rest of Cosmetics ends up sounding strikingly derivative.

The result is engaging, if not terribly lasting.

It's a measured, thoughtful album befitting a group that has practically become a byword for consistency.

The album is a disjointed trip but a trip nonetheless, and few can take listeners on a wandering journey better than The Black Angels.

While Pedestrian Verse feels like the most comprehensive Frightened Rabbit LP in the band’s nearly 10-year career, it also forgoes some of the band’s restless charm in the process.

The tranquil and atmospheric flow of the album is a perfect canvas for Rossiter, who tends to bellow more than sing. His rich and emotive voice can sound at times like that of a much more timid Jeff Buckley, and with the album’s open feel, it has space to stretch, rather than snarling, like on some of the band’s more tense moments.

Here, Clark’s lyrics are less overtly clever than on her debut, and they’re more deeply buried in layers of her spastic instrumentation. Nonetheless, they suggest a subtle, abstract intelligence.

Hannah is another solid piece of output from a dedicated and thoughtful lyricist.

Moving forward, Turn to Crime will probably find more success with continuity and more complete assimilation of its influences.

At only 30-minutes long, Omni manages to pack in a vast number of carefully-arranged flourishes. Networker stands on its own, but look carefully and you’ll find the homages the first iterations of post-punk with CBGB at the epicenter.

On Little Songs, Wall proves he’s ready to grab that torch and run.

The new versions amp up the bass and echo, often sounding like the original album when heard from a particularly foreboding shower stall.

Written and recorded before the final split, My Echo is like a transmission from inside a disintegrating relationship, heavy with all the hurt and hope and fear and frustration that comes with it. Despite the tumult, those aforementioned consistencies of Veirs’ work remain unwaveringly present on My Echo.

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 may not be his most easily accessible album, but Dagger Beach is certainly worth the time to explore. JV has delivered a well-produced and thought-provoking album that sinks in more and more after each listen.

Mutt is a mess of an album, but I mean that in the best way possible.

A tribute album that does what all tribute albums should set out to do--offer original takes on a great band's songs, while reminding listeners what made that band great in the first place.

It's not a masterpiece or a groundbreaking new direction musically, just an hour of mostly solid rock 'n' roll.

Though they’ve tucked their ideals into the music so that they serve the songs, the themes on Good Songs For Bad People are nevertheless as resonant as ever.

The album's M.O. is summed up by the title of its shortest whirlwind: "Evil." It feels good to be this bad.

These songs feel immediately familiar and timeless—you could have sworn you heard these melodies on so-and-so’s album from 15 or 25 years ago, but it never feels contrived despite obvious comparisons throughout.

(watch my moves) finds Vile connecting with his friends and idols alike, but more than anything, it finds him staying connected to himself—his identity as an artist.

Depression Cherry doesn’t always have the emotional heft, or melodic impact, of their 2010 breakthrough Teen Dream or its follow-up, 2012’s Bloom, but the duo’s knack for crafting thoughtful, enveloping songs makes their return more than welcome.

As usual, the people in Finn’s songs are vivid and compelling.

I Like to Keep Myself in Pain is a passionate, yet refined record, the culmination of all the years Hogan has spent quietly honing her craft, snug in the shadows of her more well-known peers.

As an album, The Navigator’s musicality--both the melodic nature of its songs and its musical-like structure--highlight Segarra’s raw talent and growth as an artist. But if she set The Navigator to stage, like a slightly rockist sequel to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s In The Heights, she might have even greater impact and success.

in•ter a•li•a is frankly as promising an album as we can hope to expect from a group of guys who set the bar and then ran away from it 17 years back.

Retaking the reins and returning to their indie roots, Cake delivers after the lengthy hiatus. New, old, different or not, Cake fans will have plenty to appreciate.

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

alt-J can twist ordinary feelings into something darkly seductive and unsettling, peeling away comfortable layers of emotion until all that’s left is its raw, exposed core. Each song reveals its own slice of disturbed history, set to the band’s warped perceptions of sadness, death and lust, with cold reality as its backbone.

It's a testament to the quartet's skill in building arrangements around Gulley's compositions that this somehow comes off more endearing than creepy. The eclectic and infectious result is an album that finds the Modern Skirts changed for the better and on their way to more good things.

The trio creates a sound that is cohesive in approach and unpredictable in expectation as heartland rock mingles with new wave agitations and swampy blues brushes shoulders with swinging waltzes.

Like the rebels she so often lionizes, Arulpragasam is conducting hit-and-run warfare on modern pop, snatching a hook here, a melody there, and then falling back to reshape these pilfered rhythms into unfettered anti-establishment anthems.

Tell Me If You Like To often finds the band kicking and screaming, both in downtrodden passion and in high spirits. What makes Spring King one of a kind is that they do not feel the need to differentiate the two.

Deerhoof's powerful drummer Greg Saunier, who produced the project, got some of the album's most head-spinning moments from Sholi drummer Jonathon Bafus.

If anything, the group has gotten better at keeping the subtlety of their music, and their lyrical sentiments, from straying over the line into dull.

It’s an effortlessly elegant and pleasant ride that even the obvious hip-yuppie trappings of it all can’t obscure.

Diamond Rugs emerge from their first full-length effort as a cohesive, spirited country-punk collective that brings out the best in each member.

A record that reveals a new side of the singer/songwriter that, in fact, is remarkably and comfortingly familiar.

On The Car, they deploy Fitzgeraldian tendencies, throwing a party with a lingering, enigmatic atmosphere. As long as there’s a mirror ball, you can be assured a fun time.

While this album is overall a winner, it’s not revolutionary.

Throughout the 13 songs (and as many aesthetics) of Safe Travels, the guys prove significantly smoother than their band name, if occasionally academic.

Maps & Atlases are at their best when they push themselves furthest from their comfort zone.

Ultimately, English Teacher are a band that fare best when they stop conforming to boundaries—even the ones they set for themselves.

This batch is as tuneful and accessible as anything Ounsworth has written so far.

Since they’ve never really been able to top 2004’s Thunder, Lightning, Strike, that means that everything on Semicircle is fun, but not much of it is super fun. It’s kind of like going a field trip; technically you’re not at school, but it’s still school.

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.

Strangers is in many ways more dynamic than some of Nadler’s previous efforts, balancing the ethereal atmospherics with musical movement that adds a sense of foreboding, as if Nadler were singing calmly in the face of an onrushing apocalypse.

Writing powerful pop ballads about a failed platonic relationship, one sabotaged by distance, is part of what makes Reservoir stand out.

Where tracks on My Mind Makes Noises had a tendency to blend together, Who Am I? flows without becoming repetitive. Winding between melancholy ballads, poignant love songs and screamable rock anthems, the album displays a range and skill that make Pale Waves a force to be reckoned with.

There aren’t many surprises in the album’s 37-minute runtime that will rope in the unconverted. But for those who can’t get enough of it, Kiwi Jr. are doing this kind of music better than just about anybody right now, and with Chopper, Gaudet and the rest of the band justify their standing amongst their influences.

For all her strong feelings on Take It Like a Man, Shires remains a poet at heart. If her lyrics here are often forceful, they’re also always evocative and sometimes even elegant, whether she’s revisiting her fondness for bird imagery or seeking the thrill that accompanies a new relationship.

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.

Though the sludgy abrasiveness of 1970s classic rock dominates, the influences, instruments and electronic sounds fly by at a dizzying pace.

The Parrots supply their best tunes when they are having a good time, exactly why they act best to soundtrack the fun times under the sweltering summer sun. For The Parrots, all of the fun they have is just in a day’s work.

It’s an uncanny understanding of not forcing the muse that she maintains on her brand new album, I Thought Of You.

Sure, Cheatahs unabashedly emulate their influences--and you’ll hear plenty about that in the coming months--but there’s no doubt they’re doing things their way.

Rebel Heart is not a perfect record--it meanders at lengthy 19 tracks--but it does boast some of the most introspective and lyrics Madonna has ever penned.

Credit Epworth with eschewing any formula for the sake of instant accommodation. Music this intriguing, this intense, speaks volumes on its own.

Each new Sun Kil Moon album both further acquaints and distances the listener with Mark Kozelek.

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 songs are brief, noisy bursts, bratty but walloping. Rock diehards might scorn the weak solos, but Vivian Girls compensate with rock-solid rhythm and roughshod passion.

While the album is successful at crafting smart and danceable music, it lacks the fervor that defined their 2018 EP. This isn’t to say there aren’t gripping moments of sonic intensity on Gentle Grip that more than satisfy the more frenetic yearnings of Distance Is a Mirror.

Throughout the rest of the project, Parton’s original tracks (including “World on Fire,” a stadium-ready stomp-stomp-clap protest anthem) and faithful renditions of classic rock favorites help her get the band back together for one last encore shine through. At age 77, Dolly Parton sounds fresh, brand new and like she’s having the time of her life.

Juliana Hatfield Sings The Police is an experiment, and maybe as such it’ll be deemed less worthy, less interesting, than Weird. But where Weird is good, Juliana Hatfield Sings The Police is engrossing, an act of pop cultural interrogation for its own sake.

My Best Friend is You is peppered with pettiness, too, but it's a little more grown-up-and way more amped-up.

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.

It’s an album that understands the value of both journey and destination and when the going gets weird, amazingly everything is right where it needs to be.

While the similarities to both his contemporaries and those who came before him are impossible to ignore, there are few musicians who could pull off singing about an aspiring building inspector and make it so equally funny and sweet—but Hutson possesses a rare balance of critical wit and soul.

Eight isn’t a groundbreaking album—and it may lack some of the daring color that defined the band’s early years—but its lyricism is uncomplicated and easy, with thematics that fit well within the group’s regular wheelhouse. It’s sure of itself and proud to be so.

If Phases proves anything, it’s that Olsen’s discards are better than a lot of artists’ best efforts. Like her name suggests, she seems otherworldly, celestial--her impressive consistency and ability to transcend genre and era with seeming ease, nothing short of divine.

It’s the originals that shine the most, a testament to the talent of a songwriter that has written a standard or two of his own.

This Is The Kit have found a way to stay true to their style in a way that doesn’t feel forced or boring.

While kid-friendliness is a great merit of Under the Pepper Tree, its ineffable beauty makes the album a fast favorite for a person of any age to unwind after a long day.

There’s a faint despair in these songs, but he makes up for it with his undying devotion to capture them as vividly as possible--in a way that doesn’t glorify the subjects’ predicament, but highlights their quirks and shines a spotlight on their wisdom. There’s an innate comfort that comes with listening to Gunn’s music and The Unseen in Between is that Sunday afternoon moment of self-care that you need in your life.

The tone is certainly slow dances at twilight, but given a shimmer by the understated elegance of Moore’s voice, something that has always sound fragile but defiant at the same time.

Multi-task hits its high marks when the band is doing as much as it can, or, if you will, multi-tasking.

Yusuf’s vocals are a bit more gruff than in days gone by, but his whimsical tone maintains the fanciful and philosophical lilt once so essential to that early, engaging style.

Despite its metaphysical optimism, Sundowner resonates not because it has the answers, but because it proves willing to hunt for them or, in their apparent absence, to create them.

Not content to settle on one style of pop music, but rather preferring to float effortlessly between many, Hatchie is a credit to what is possible within the pop genre.

Bad Books’ take on it all could technically be considered dad rock, but on III, masculinity is an afterthought. At the record’s forefront is just three friends using their respective talents to create a collection of songs about the messy business of living.

Commissioned by Stevens and featuring the arrangements of six composers, Run Rabbit Run re-imagines the conceptual song cycle as a remarkably pliable and surprisingly tangible avant-garde composition, its crackling glitches and imposing synthesizers translated into gorgeous sweeping trills, scratchy bow scrapes and sweetly sighing refrains.

The charm of the band's guitar work sometimes gets lost in the middle of C.U.B.A.'s added instrumentation.

Wilson and her band thrive on musical democracy, where each instrument--even the most famous--gets an equal say in the song.

Cheap Queen is more melancholy than “1950,” more introspective than her ode to “Talia,” less ebullient than the assured bedroom-romping funk of follow-up single “Pussy Is God,” the latter of which was co-written with Stenberg. Cheap Queen is also more vulnerable.

The Tennessee native shows a dreamier, more daring side of herself on Rosegold, implementing bold new production elements along the way.