Their songwriting is tight, their lyrics are brazen, smart and amusing, and they are at ease shifting through various indie styles. ... The duo often sound on Wet Leg as though their songs are intended primarily to entertain themselves, and each other. The rest of us are lucky to be along for the ride.

This is the hardest Daft Punk’s ever worked on an album, but their songwriting and programming skills aren’t up to the others.

It's a hard, emotional record--certainly a good one.... But, in truth, after the lavish escapism of Funeral, Neon Bible does feel like a less stratospheric accomplishment. [Mar 2007, p.60]

Here, she’s working toward something bigger than her own feelings. She doesn’t ask us to weep for her—she captures the drama and despair of a nation, with wit to spare. Lana Del Rey is not just your little Venice bitch. She’s our little Venice bitch.

The progression of Morby’s most recent albums hinted at the true extent of his musical ideas, but that honeypot of talent and wisdom didn’t truly run over until now. Still, Photograph doesn’t overshadow his other work—rather, it honors it all.

Bite Down is packed wall to wall with tunes that are unsettled but unhurried, generous with melody, wandering but never lost, and reliably steady despite the never-ending twists and turns of an earthly existence. But above all, they are beautiful, broken and built around the kind of raw emotional uncertainty that will resonate with anyone who has ever lived, loved and/or lost.

Throughout, there’s a dynamic contrast of ultra-femininity with talk of violence, power, and crouching wrath.

They’re too big to fail though, so lightning half-strikes plenty here.

Swelling at 16 songs and an hour-plus runtime, it's Arcade Fire's most ambitious and concept-driven effort to date.

As a remastered package, the Butch Vig-produced Gish does deliver for both hardcore fans and casual listeners. What's so unique about the package isn't only seeing the band's first attempt at a full-length recording, but it also fills in the space between Gish and the amazing jump that is Siamese Dream.

At a time when modern country feels like bloated spandex-and-Aquanetted pop-metal, Fulks defiantly embraces an unflinching traditionalism.

Oddly enough, it’s in the moments where the duo get separated—or neither appears at all—that we get to hear just how fruitful their creative bond actually was. ... There’s no denying the effort that went into this material, and the elegant presentation of this box matches the music’s tone and character perfectly.

Fancy up her surroundings all you want, but like another transcendent, intuitive singer-Van Morrison, in whose company she belongs-it's the way she sings... that defines her greatness, as lonely as it might be.

Upon first listen, Shore lacks the immediacy of Fleet Foxes and 2011’s Helplessness Blues—at least from a sonic standpoint. But frontman Robin Pecknold’s astonishingly thoughtful lyrics quickly bring the listener back up to speed, at times recalling the grandiose scope of Crack-Up’s more cheerful moments, even if the instrumental indie-rock stylings are lagging a bit.

There is a lot to like on Freedom. Across its 11 tracks, McMahon reflects on his own life like a seething poet, often spitting out lyrics as if they’re forcing themselves from his body.

For an album that’s 15 tracks to be this consistently good is a rarity, an anomaly, and an artistic triumph that should place it on every Best Of list at the end of the year.

What matters are the travails we endure to appreciate goodness. Life on Earth is a journey through the former toward the latter, and a dazzling shift from Hurray for the Riff Raff’s roots to their present.

There’s certainly a sense of urgency here, and also sublime moments on songs that overlay beauty with turbulence in a way that suggests an anguished soul reaching for solace amid turmoil.

Their music is overwhelming, but Irreversible Entanglements’ excellent second album, Who Sent You?, proves that it’s essential, too.

The album is cinematic in its own right, carving out a singular vision with moving musical choices, impactful delivery and evocative lyrics.

Every song a casual fan would know is here.

She writes songs that hover entrancingly, enticing the listener not with tractor-beam beats or huge hooks, but with a persistent and wholehearted interest in reaching your heart and speaking to it in a way that only it can understand.

It’s a breathtaking, immersive, often mournful exploration of the fundamentally transformative, ever-changing nature of feeling.

There’s such a charming muscle being flexed here that you might not even immediately realize that, beneath massive hooks, Yard Act are performing an exorcism on the ever-so universal fixation creatives have on shit-talk outmaneuvering praise.

Sharon Van Etten was already one of the great lyricists of the ‘10s, but with this breathtaking new project, she’s proved an artistic pliancy her contemporaries may not possess. She hit her stride with Are We There, but here she’s not even on the ground.

If the album is frustratingly uneven--if, despite moments of exuberance, it can also feel like a mundane grind--well, I suspect that also mirrors life in Mali. And almost everywhere else, too.

After just a nine-song introduction, we care about Natalie Prass.

As a whole, A Sailor’s Guide to Earth is simultaneously eclectic and of a piece: It’s big and bold and sometimes messy, but never unfocused.

She has never sounded more confident. Van Etten’s fourth album marks the true arrival of a singer who’s been on her way for a long time, and thinking of her as anything less than a career artist is certainly a vast underestimation.

Tension is strong proof that Kylie Minogue in 2023 is more than just “Padam Padam,” but it’s also a relatively uncomplicated message from the international superstar. It delivers what she does best: a campaign speech on behalf of pleasure and its pursuit, with an electro-pop shine that delivers dopamine hit after dopamine hit.

It retains the beautiful melancholy of For Emma, but in nearly every way, it's just more. More layered, more diverse, more interesting.

In so many ways, the album represents the full realization not just of Moctar’s individual artistry, but of what’s possible when influences collide in unexpected ways. ... Stunning, unique desert flower.

The three-disc version is a great foundational understanding of what The Fall and Mark E. Smith is all about, but the hefty seven-disc issue offers up the blueprints for the whole operation. Whether your interest is just in seeing why groups like Pavement and Elastica marked this band as a major influence or if it’s in jumping into the Olympic-sized pool of material by The Fall, you know which lane to choose.

Intimate songs like these needed such intimate music behind it. You’ve been invited in to the confessional and your job is to listen, learn and support.

In its own gentle way, Shade nudges the audience to view Harris as an all-around musician, rather than as the consummate mood-setter she’s long been hailed as. It’s as close to an attention-grabbing gesture as we’re probably ever going to get from Liz Harris—but if that’s what this album is, it’s an attention grab that’s well overdue.

Each performance is lucid and brutal, rattling audiences with its unstoppable fervor. Sometimes it’s hard to envision this adolescent version of Sonic Youth while knowing what’s to come for them, but it makes for an all the more enthralling listen as we imagine how it must have felt to be on the precipice of greatness.

We’re going to be talking about this album for years to come.

The whole thing is as immaculately crafted and endearingly overcast as the Scottish countryside.

Indie rock may not be dying, but it’ll be hard for people to make it sound as alive as Toledo does on Teens of Denial. This is the sort of record where you wish like hell you could hear it again for the first time and that’ll keep rewarding return visits for years to come.

It’s powerful in both delivery and in effect, without being heavy-handed or sacrificing form.

Though the album contains some of the most straightforward rock songs of Bowie’s career so far, their search for a savior still scales to grandiose heights.

The result is not only her most honest and personal album to date but also her most affecting.

On their debut, Friko have cemented themselves as one of the most distinguished up-and-coming voices in all of indie-rock.

Sounds like a mostly live interpretation of... The Avalanches' intricate party collages doubling as three-minute music history lessons. [#13, p.118]

Kidjo is faithfully following her muse in search of transcendence. Here she’s found a rich source of it, like water flowing underground.

The newest record from Alex Giannascoli at times improves on the inscrutable, circuitous experimentation of his Domino debut, Beach Music. At other times, it refines the accessible but still characteristically sauntering country-lite of Rocket, his masterful second album for the British indie label. In other words, House of Sugar sounds like a middle ground between the two albums that preceded it.

There’s a timeless quality to Promises, an inscrutable sense that the album could hail from 30 years in the past or 30 years into the future.

Deerhunter has graduated, by degrees, from conjuring moods to writing proper songs, and fourth album Halcyon Digest finds Bradford Cox and company strip-mining new aural territory and toeing the line between structure and abstraction.

While the songs on to hell with it may read heavy in subject matter, rarely does PinkPantheress bask in the dour.

Fortunately, while the pairing produces a mawkish or awkward moment here and there, 'Sno Angel Like You ulitmately captures the unique mixture of ugliness and beauty Gelb has strived to achieve throughout his career. [Apr/May 2006, p.115]

While she’s faced a number of setbacks to get where she is today, her talent beams golden bright on this album.

So no, you don’t get a remastered version of one of your favorite albums. But you definitely do get your money’s worth.

45:33 is as much gallery-crawl as beach-run; purpose-built in gliding tempos and warm-down synth shimmers for iPod-strapped runners, yet appropriate for a cruise through the Whitney, too. [Review of UK release]

Alex G’s ability to widen the aperture of his work with each album, and not alienate his audience, speaks to just how much he’s able to pinpoint and define what stands out within his work. God Save the Animals is just the latest reminder that, as his tastes expand, so too does his sonic palate.

Dogrel is an album of tremendous ardor and vivid landscapes, and interspersed with an Irish underdog spirit, Fontaines D.C. are nearly untouchable.

Heartfelt and engaging.

Emerging from California's punk/roots scene, championed by the Blasters and sharing stages with X, he kept it true, while mining the tempest of a formidable rejectionist movement. 3 Pears follows the same map.

Every Bad is the nuanced album that indie rock has needed for years.

On Cosmogramma, this never-ending stream of aural textures sounds effortless, and the enthralling swirl of jazz, drum 'n' bass, dubstep and hip-hop beckons you toward the edge of something damn near cosmic.

Co-produced by Kim Buie and Jordan Lehning, the introspective work finds the great American songwriter, who has had hits on the country, pop, rock and Americana charts, settling into his place as an elder statesman by surveying the path that brought him here.

So odd how Koi No Yokan could be both their most traditionally metal and their most melodic record to date.

Though at time reaching heavenly heights, Shields is, as the name suggests, a heavy, protected album, stuffy with an ennui particular to the young and gifted. It's evidence that Grizzly Bear may be one of the great bands of their generation--if only they'd smile a little more.

With both immediate appeal and density that demands long-term digestion, it’s one of those rare debuts that manifests a fully-grown, deeply engaging sound.

On Diaspora Problems, Soul Glo have caused a clearing in the forest with an album so boundless in its creativity that it cannot be ignored. This is the shape of hardcore that we had been promised.

Krystal may not be as charming or musically distinctive as its predecessor, but if a breakup has left you with nothing to do but “curl up and die,” then Matt Maltese’s second album is the calming, pillow-crying record you need.

For now, A Light for Attracting Attention is a versatile beacon for Yorke and Greenwood’s groovier side, and a remarkably assured debut that—let’s be honest—doesn’t really feel like a debut at all.

It’s not that To the Sunset finds Shires wandering further--it’s that she’s digging deeper, with the same diligence and abundance of talent she’s been drawing from all along.

A sweeping confession of sanctification, embrace and glory, this is deliverance personified.

Soul Of A Woman offers up a piece of everything that made Jones a powerhouse up to the very end.

What makes the album so amazing is its ability to balance poignancy and fun.

Harps and Angels is another fine Randy Newman album, minimally produced by Mitchell Froom and Lenny Waronker.

Present Tense marks a further refinement and features a band continuing to keep itself restless and uncomfortable.

On acts of rebellion, she maintains her punk, community-oriented ethos whether she strikes strongly, replaces guitars with synths or creates more introspective works.

Many of the genre’s most popular songs right now resemble its past more than its future (or at least what one would hope constitutes its future). The music of Rustin’ In The Rain is an exception—and best of all, there’s space in its world for all of us.

Here, most gestures remain a bit too consciously panoramic—elegant enough for comfort but often not chancy enough to be breathtaking.

While these eight new tunes are more straightforward than much of his work, that is not to suggest they are lacking in intricacy.

Popular Problems is a fine addition to that legacy. At 80 years old, Leonard Cohen is just beginning to hit his stride.

The Mavericks understand the potency of a band that plays as a solid unit and embellishes that sound accordingly--not quite brazen, but flaring with machismo.

It’s a beautiful work of art about aging, regret and an arduous search for meaning. It’s an expansive record that explores a variety of sounds and themes, but it never feels confused or lost.

The LP is woven with otherworldly, alien sounds, yet there is an undeniable coziness to the songs—thanks in part to the cozy crackle of vinyl samples and stirring vocals—that combats the coldness often associated with outer space.

Similar to the BBC’s fantastic Bringing It All Back Home soundtrack, The Beautiful Old further solidifies the root connection between Celtic folk and American bluegrass.

While Landes’ is lovely at best and boring at worst, the real disappointment here is the excitement caused by Foster’s production work, which, sadly, doesn’t quite deliver.

Sonically, this is Fucked Up's cleanest album to date.

Whether Chance is billed as frontman or not, his thought-provoking lyricism and potent backing band has made for yet another life-affirming release that’s sure to propel the artist to even more impressive territory.

Tell Tale Signs subtly makes a good argument that Dylan’s later work is richer than expected.

Lost in the Dream pushes rock music forward.

These are all top-shelf tunes, and they serve as evidence that Rankin and O’Hanley are among the best pop-song writers working today.

Some grin in the face of the absurd and rotten, and others reflect all the hot air back outward. Dry Cleaning make an art of doing both.

Billie Eilish continues to rise to the occasion on Happier Than Ever, staring down critics, naysayers and whatever the future holds while carrying self-love and compassion in her back pocket.

It’s bracing to hear one of the most original practicing voices in rock (musically, vocally, lyrically) speaking so plainly on every level. With some bands it would mean a capitulation or slackening. For Screaming Females, it is just another display of power.

Knowing Gunn’s exotic inspirations, Way Out Weather is certainly only a snapshot of where his talents could lead him. Whatever you take away from it, it’s most certainly a step in the right direction.

His harrowed and ongoing metamorphosis into a butterfly is the narrative he’s chosen and is the story he’ll likely will stick with for the foreseeable future, but untitled unmastered shows that the holes in his willed chrysalis might be more interesting than the beauty promised by the cocoon.

It is brief, for sure, but it is packed with densely packaged rhymes and rewarding musical numbers that are majestic.

An eminently pleasurable album that reveals more with each spin. [Apr/May 2005, p.148]

It shouldn’t work--they went all or nothing. They got all.

If we could go back to a time where we had never heard these songs before, Hitchhiker would more than stand on its own as a brilliant piece of performance art. Stripped of the subsequent mythology or knowledge of what these songs would eventually become, each performance remains beautiful in its own right.

It’s the sound of a band in peak form who are pushing to get better, go further and resist any temptation to slack off.

On The Agent Intellect, Casey finds himself as more of a vocal stylist than a singer, and that’s good.