Franz Ferdinand’s potential is repeatedly hinted at rather than fully realized. If this career shortcut can give us any consolation, it’s that it’s better to show potential than to have none at all.

It requires some sustained attention on our part and takes us in surprising directions, at times appearing disjointed or jarring. Its creativity is not formulaic and offers a challenging authenticity. But there are unexpected rewards that emerge from sustained and careful attention to the contours of its landscape.

With Angel in Realtime, Gang of Youths have elevated their work to new echelons of arena rock potential. Listening to it from start to finish is something genuinely satisfying.

Drug Church’s ability to pull off this multiplicity deserves huge praise. In doing so, they’ve bent the aging punk and hardcore genre into new shapes whilst also becoming tighter, sharper, and more accessible.

This album is a grand balancing act of making everything heard and felt and of letting all these disparate instruments come to the fore without overwhelming. It’s the ultimate task of expression. Throughout it all, Spaceman’s beautifully weathered voice is the one calming element that stays with us.

Once again, Tobias Forge has come through with a slick, wickedly catchy collection of songs that are certain to please Ghost’s rapidly growing audience.

Bridwell has a very clear vision for his band and presents it well. His smart lyrics match his previous standards, and the group execute the album well, but it feels too much as if they’re standing in place.

The real pleasure of the record is hearing how Lindemann and her accompaniment shape each song around those musings.

Albeit brief, with Crystal Nuns Cathedral, Pollard and co. have struck gold once again, delivering a hi-fi record that proves itself to be just as virtuosic and inventive as any indie rock album of recent memory.

Occasionally, Nelson drops his icy façade for a moment of home-spun warmth and “sincerity”, whatever that means; for this, look no further than the wondrous acoustics of “Nightwater”, which lacks some of the sonic depth of other compositions herein but, as a work of solos, has surprising bite.

There’s nothing unexpected in the idea that she would release such a strong album right now. In another way, though, it’s just further evidence that magic always surprises.

On I’m Not Sorry, I Was Just Being Me, Whittle’s sonic forays and Merrick’s downcast yet sultry vocals make for a charismatic blend. The result is a sequence at times irksomely familiar, but it also captures a vital response to the crises and perils of present-day life.

Ocean Child may not move Yoko Ono’s songs into the mainstream, but if it only introduces a modest audience to her music, Ben Gibbard’s efforts will have been well worth it. This record gives plenty of much-needed exposure to the songs of one of our most misunderstood and unfairly ignored artists.

Even if Lavigne intended to make something short and silly, it speaks to a larger mainstream conversation of the supposed limits surrounding women’s ability to remain interesting in pop culture. Love might indeed suck, but we know that Avril is capable of so much more.

Whether you prefer the orchestral versions of The Garden or the pop stylings of the originals is a matter of taste. Rather than pit the renditions against one another, they should be judged on their own merits. As with any garden, the endeavor requires patience, but the rewards are delectable.

While McCaughn’s lyrics grapple with the realities of 2020 and 2021, Superchunk’s songs are upbeat and anthemic.

There is strength in numbers, and Andy Bell’s rise to the double album challenge is as strong as anything that carries the Ride name.

Sarah Shook and the Disarmers capture that nocturnal vibe where darkness illuminates the unknown more than hides what should be seen.

The amount of variety Daniel and company manage to pack into ten songs while still feeling cohesive is impressive. The lack of flashy personality makes Spoon easy to overlook, but as always, the songwriting and performance are top-notch.

The Tipping Point is a joyous reminder of their one-of-a-kind partnership, and it should be celebrated by old and new fans alike.

It’s not clear if some of the songs are confessional and concern Trent and Hearst’s marriage. There seem to be personal statements on songs like “Divide & Conquer” and “Bleed Me”, but they could be personae instead. As music, the actual truth doesn’t matter as much as the emotional weight they carry.

On Memoria, there is nothing new under the moon. The territory and sounds are familiar but the magic is in the arrangement: the orchestration of tension and the release of tension, and the tight-rope balancing act between showing and keeping it veiled.

Some songs feature snippets of spoken word dialogues and other musical accompaniment, but as a whole, the album offers an intimacy between Segarra and her audience. Segarra is the voice crooning in your ear.

Though it takes a few listens – Rashad’s vocals are intentionally deep in the mix – Electric Cowboy gradually reveals itself to be more than just a light party album.

The mishmash creates a decorative delight rather than cacophony, from the old-fashioned string arrangements on “Cosmic Sigh” to the more contemporary electric guitar licks that adorn the melody of “True Love’s Face”.

It’s a testimony to Shamir’s breathtaking talent that he can put together an album as emotionally and sonically complex and ambitious and still deliver a concise, smart, and cohesive album.

Earthling is a grounded, earnest, weird, and sometimes corny album. It’s is a hodgepodge of inspiration, whims, and deep contemplation. It’s also a very uncalculated album – nothing is hidden or shielded in irony or convoluted symbolism. Earthling wears its earnestness on its sleeve and that is an underrated asset.

While the stand-alone OST might lack this overt humor [of the film's end credits], what it doesn’t lack is the film’s personality and intrigue. I’m left hoping there’s a continuation of The Runner’s story and its sound-world too.