everything is alive feels practically self-contained, like a Slowdive record blissfully unaware it is a Slowdive record, most likely for the better. Simultaneously, the fact that everything is alive could have been a very different album is hard to dismiss. The songs that contain explicit traces of this minimal electronic framework are easily the strongest cuts and, most importantly, feel like a productive midway point between “Slowdive Slowdiving” and whatever Pygmalion worshippers keep hoping for.

Perfect Saviors probably could have been the quote best rock album ever. It should have been bigger. It should have been better. It could have been everything.

Appaloosa Bones demonstrates that Gregory Alan Isakov remains standing as an essential voice in the folk scene.

Not that his previous POP songs weren't POP, but never before has he sounded so confidently chart-ready in a chorus of his. Likewise, "Justify Your Life" features trip-hop beats, slabs of chillwave layers, and a reverb-full soundscape in an uncompromisingly banging way.

Blackbox Life Recorder 21f / in a room7 F760 ends up a glorified, if very welcome, double-single as such: its satisfaction lies less in an end-to-end listen and much more in the binge mileage of its cornerstone tracks. Aphex Twin's sound is in as vitalised as it's ever been, but this release also suggests that a little contortion is more vital to his matrix than some may have thought.

This band’s tedium, their mercilessly polished tones, their big bucks mastering, their humourless refusal to spotlight any glorious points of absurdity within their own writing, their algorithmic combination of the most derivative parts of how many separate genres into a no less unremarkable whole - it all makes for one of the most irksome feints at artistry I’ve heard this decade and feels oriented towards an impressionable audience with sickeningly calculated precision.

The Loveliest Time is the most B-sideular ‘album’ experience I’ve found in my paws so far this year: its consistency is gaseous, its stylistic hopscotch is even more erratic than that of its sister album, it is a product of the same sessions, and - most importantly - it contains a large chunk of the weakest Carly Rae Jepsen tracks to date.

Pure Music is transparently imperfect but remarkably enjoyable, while showcasing a lot of creativity, delivered in a spirit of wild abandon. True to form, Strange Ranger aren’t resting on their laurels. Who knows where they’ll go next.

At once exquisitely beautiful and deeply tragic, and imbued with a bucolic sense of a rural England full of villages and country lanes and woods and fields, I Am Not There Anymore is a journey that you won’t readily forget. Flaws and all, it’s both a worthy comeback for an excellent band and one of the year’s finest releases.

This record nourishes Oxbow's most morose tendencies more generously than ever, and the fruit they bear is oh-so-flatteringly proportioned.

It’s a record so entrenched in referencing other music that it ceases to be artistic expression, and is entirely separated from expression as a concept, floating in its own sterility. Looks like it’s back to the drawing board for whichever craven startup CEO cooked this one up in the experience machine; you won’t be able to unplug fast enough.

The Ballad of Darren presents itself as probably the most humble collection in the band’s catalog. With considerable pretentiousness stripped off, we catch a glimpse of sustained vulnerability rarely seen on their records. The sound is familiar, yet miles away from previous efforts.

The bulk of EVERGREEN does little more than yeeting a distorted riff at you, copy-pasting vocal melodies on top and subsequently repeating a few lines by way of a chorus (and, if you’re lucky, this is the part where Gunn’s vocals get a little grittier, yay!). While this affords the record an inherent sense of cohesion, none of the songs here are particularly memorable or uh, good.

As a piece of esoteric yet engrossing art, I Inside The Old Year Dying marks one of Harvey’s finest creations yet.

It may not contain anything that the casual Swift listener or average radio-goer will be breaking down doors to hear, but with Speak Now (Taylor's Version), she delivers an admirable and very intimate effort that will be extremely rewarding to her most devoted fans.

Pastel is exchanged for matt, or maybe gloss, via 27(!) instruments, all played/recorded/produced/mixed by our BOI, not that you could tell he’s been that busy. “Memory Palace” is simplicity itself, Melotron and Mustel celeste sneaking betwixt bashful oaken strumming.

In The End It Always Does is a mixed bag, but I wouldn’t describe it as a minefield; it’s more like a diamond mine and a minefield are engaged in a land dispute. Amber Bain’s ethereal vocals and meticulously crafted melodies make this an album that I certainly recommend checking out, if only for the allure of the stronger tracks that constitute a little over half of the record.

Chaos for the Fly might be morose, but it’s also very touching, and full of delicate little moments which make the record more than just the sum of its parts. Frankly, my biggest gripe is that its thirty-six minute runtime is a little too trim, and an epic five-plus minute storytelling track would’ve definitely enhanced the experience.

As far as contemplative, comparatively low-energy releases go, this is one of the finest in years, carefully-crafted and delicate but full of nuance and color. However you’d like to classify Aspirin Sun, it’s a damn good record.

This is a laid-back kind of record, inclined towards porch sitting or walks in the wods. There’s still plenty of exceptional musicianship on display, though, with the guitar work remaining immensely appealing. In addition, despite the mellowness of the material and the seemingly-throwaway album title, Yay! can be surprisingly emotionally potent upon occasion.

Whilst by no means an unmitigated disaster, Michael fails to do much of anything beyond that which we already knew was well within its namesake’s capabilities.

Twenty-seven minutes is quite short, and the last couple of songs still feel undercooked compared to the slab of punk bangers offered by the first half. Despite this, the songs that bang do because they carry powerful punk riffs and relatable, Linkin Park-worship lyrics to yell.

It's contorted, full of loose ends, songwriting peculiarities and recurring cryptic imagery, and, although many individual moments do overtly recall other artists, it hangs together with such an uneasy balance of inner tension and stubbornly foregrounded idiosyncrasies that you will be unlikely to mistake it for anyone else.

The Beggar is definitely flawed as a front-to-back experience, but it's also the most engaging release that Swans have put out since To Be Kind.

In short, whatever your thoughts are on the band, leave your preconceived notions at the door and give it a try, Life is But a Dream… is set to be one of the best albums of 2023.

Is It? is his most experimental offering to date. It's not easy to follow, and it rarely does what you'd expect it to...but that's the beauty of it.

Átta has enough going for it to warrant an inspection from the rest of us, but it's both fairer and far more flattering to view it as the conclusion to a troubled chapter in the band's history than the enthusiastic heir to any hefty expectations you might otherwise burden it with.

Dixon’s radiant songwriting paves the way, and his expressive style makes for an enchanting journey through blissful soundscapes.

It’s the end of the world every single day, and King Gizzard have just offered you its soundtrack.

If you’re looking for something with a bit more bite and ambition, you might be a little disappointed with what’s on offer. In spite of that, this is easily one of the strongest rock albums to come from 2023 so far, and if you’re a fan of the band or you enjoy the genre in general, this is sure to quench the majority of people’s thirst.

Heaven Is A Junkyard might be a comparatively trim release, but it contains multitudes.

At the end of the day, Purge is Godflesh doing Godflesh and doing a good job at it, but as far as how it stacks up against the rest of their discography, it’s far from a high point.

Heimdal has a more organic feel than its most recent predecessors, a less polished approach that gives it a rawer edge while remaining complex and adventurous. This more unrefined blackened aesthetic, though present throughout the album, is magnificently explored in 'Congelia', which delivers a constant and overwhelming flow.

The album’s music is a similar story, theoretically well-equipped with its slick production and generous emphasis on slide guitar, yet so heartlessly procedural in its composition and homogenous in its tempo that its encapsulation of the country Experience misses the elation and dynamism of wind-in-your-hair and ends up for more cholesterol-in-your-burger.

Weathervanes is a bit of a downer. Regardless, though, it’s Isbell’s reliably exceptional songwriting, the bursting-out-of-the-gate energy of the 400 Unit (just listen to the barnburner that is “When We Were Close”), and a talent for subtle but inescapable hooks which make the doom and gloom of these songs not only bearable, but rather inviting.

Despite its long gestation period and pristine production, it sounds as though no one believes in What Matters Most less than Folds himself, and this bleeds through every single vocal performance and instrumental arrangement on the record.

As a whole, Shadow Kingdom might not be a revelation, but it’s an interesting experiment with plenty of solid results.

Every member audibly leveled up with each LP and Formal Growth in the Desert again takes it up a notch. There are bits of everything the quartet crafted so far and more, all incorporated into a cohesive and intense narrative. As the instrumentals become more evocative, so does the storytelling.

While not reinventing the wheel, and still struggling with occasional blandness, there are plenty of moments here which simply provoke more excitement and emotion than I’ve felt from Foo Fighters’ music for a while.

Bunny's performances are pristine: the record navigates its hooks, sonic sways and immaculate v..v..vibes with palpable ease.

Its songs are generally brisk, compositions tame, nuances readily graspable and holistic color palette decidedly uniform.

Kenny Segal, a true and varied talent in and of himself, has a firm grasp on the gift that billy woods possesses, and has doubled down on his instinct to assist, to foreground the whims of a true poet in prime form. billy woods takes the bearing, and we follow.

All Of This Will End is the type of album that will alternately satisfy and disgruntle the existing fanbase, but for me, it’s just another uneven but worthwhile step on an emerging artist’s journey.

None of them break any new ground for the act, however, they are really tight songs overall.

It is every bit as excellent as I could have hoped for. Museum is a haunting affair, delicate and understated at all times yet bold enough to be decidedly impressive.

Que Dios Te Maldiga Mi Corazon doesn’t expand on its original ideas, it gives you less – a familiar, now tenebrous and barren wasteland. The bottom line being; when your reimagined version makes an already lethargic album look like an action-packed thrill ride, you know you've got problems.

Variables is not only much more ambitious than its predecessor (sorry Bring Backs), but also the most forward-thinking album Alfa Mist has put to wax thus far, and an experience far more suited to ruminative cigarettes by candlelight than vape-assisted marathon study sessions.

It’s not as seamless a blend as last year’s Ashenspire, but both idea and execution are exquisitely fresh among the extreme scene. Portrayal of Guilt always had the potential to craft a definitive album, and if Devil Music is not it, then they sure are on the right track.

In all its ethereal beauty, Ceremony is an ideal companion, whatever you’re going through right now. It’s a perfectly suited album to fill your earbuds while going on a walk, or for the next time you’re lounging on a chair in your backyard as the sun shines down.

Fuse lands as a welcome sampler of the Everything But the Girl sound updated to the ‘20s, but not quite the powerhouse comeback they are so clearly capable of.

Spectral Lines is a batch of quietly luminous tracks that feel just as interlocked as the secrets of the universe, sharing pianos that blossom to stunning effect, vocal harmonization that whisks your mind off toward the ether, guitars with just enough bite to lend traction, and seamless transitions that give the entire experience an effortless, elegant flow.

Ten tracks, forty minutes really is the perfect package for a pop record that oozes sophistication while not taking itself too seriously, and that knows when to trade the bomb-ass-thicc with lovers' lullabies.

This album is exactly what you’d expect from Fruit Bats. It’s fairly slim in runtime, very chill, and could conceivably be described as anything from indie pop to country rock without a listener batting an eye. There are songs notably catchy (“Rushin’ River Valley”), affecting (“We Used To Live Here”), and both of those previous descriptors at the same time (the goofily-titled “Jesus Tap Dancing Christ (It’s Good To Be Home)”)

I also really like the album, and I would give it 4 bags of popcorn.

A Kiss For the Whole World remains eminently-listenable low-calorie fun despite its intermittent slip ups.

The palettes on offer are frequently gorgeous and sometimes even transcendent, but No Highs' pervasive gloom and downer vibes render it more standoffish than the lofty fear and trembling of Ravedeath or the playful eclecticism of Radio Amor.

All in all, Henry St. marks a triumphant return for The Tallest Man On Earth, as he once more emerges from the Swedish countryside to take the folk world by storm. This time, though, he’s got companions, leading to a fuller and richer sonic journey than ever before.

...So Unknown is a flawed record, but still a worthwhile one to check out. Underneath its misguided bells and whistles lies a grueling trench of hatred and rage, one that demonstrates Jesus Piece’s capability to pulverize their audience with a sort of backwards grace.

Without polish or overproduction, Wednesday sound is a powerful exclamation of a narrative, full of noise, beauty, and deeply relatable feelings and stories. It may not feel perfect, but it’s real.

With a smattering of new influences combined with the homage to their own past, Metallica’s 72 Seasons is another solid release in their discography. It’s an album that feels more consistent and original than anything they’ve done since the Load releases from forever ago.

From the slowed tempo of the cinematic opener “Grand Junction” to the animated “Sixers”, they’ve crafted some of the most unpredictable and sweeping arrangements yet. This is an odd one, folks. And like much of Finn’s work, I’ll be racking my brain on its many idiosyncrasies for the foreseeable future.

The overarching weakness seems to be that, while this is a set of songs being performed by talented musicians clearly having the time of their lives, it often feels like nothing more, simply a (great) set of songs rather than a coherent album statement. The previous paragraph’s fleeting criticism is just that, though: fleeting. The Record, when compared to Boygenius, inevitably comes out much ahead, reflecting the singer-songwriters’ substantial growth as musicians in the intervening half-decade.

If, in 1970, a fusion between jazz and rock felt inevitable, it's only natural jazz's fusion aspect gets refreshed with electronics. That, along with its determination to improvise shit and try to come up with new sounds, is how London Brew successfully channels the legacy of its inspiration.

This latest Lana del Rey record does contain some measure of robust and moving songwriting about topics other than sex, death and California. ... Secondary highlights “Paris, Texas” and “Kintsugi” disappear into the background; otherwise cogent hip-hop flirtations turn into innocuous daliances (“Fishtail”); the middle of the road becomes the most desolate of wasted spaces (“Fingertips”).

The raw energy and occasionally questionable anger of their early years has nicely matured into a confidence and consistency that they've never had before, a diverse set of songs which feels more than the sum of its parts thanks to the band's locked-in chemistry with their longtime producer.

The Other One takes its metal/pop influences and fuses them into a seamless sound that trades Kawaii for seriousness and atmosphere. While it might be initially disappointing to lose a decade of Babymetal influences, it was probably time and the more mature and serious Babymetal sound is still as captivating as always.

Memento Mori’s biggest flaw is the middle section, as the respective songs don’t really stand out. Of course, they remain decent at the very least, “Before We Drown” being perhaps the one to return to most. Other than that, this is another solid Depeche Mode album with a handful of highlights that fans should definitely add to their playlists.

This is damn good music. Like, legitimately sensational. Some of the best of 2023, actually.

Some of the most spotlessly produced music I’ve heard in my lifetime, let alone this year. Gonzalez unfortunately continues to struggle with cohesion and distilling his musical ideas down to their most valuable elements, but his latest full-length is an undeniable improvement over his mid-late 2010’s output, and hopefully the beginning of a long upward trajectory for the M83 brand.

For old school fans of the band, Dying of Everything would be more than enough. ... for newcomers, this might be an issue, as we're not in the 90s anymore, and to impress a new generation of metalheads that think this or that deathcore album “could use more blast beats”, Obituary would need to submit themselves to a change that isn't feasible or realistic.

UGLY is a headlong tumble into deep waters, careening sharply off the edges of decency and screaming out for meaning as it goes, arse over teakettle into the unknown. Follow it down if you want, just untie that rope around your waist before you do: this is the kind of fall you take at terminal velocity or not at all.

The often minimalistic approach requires time to settle in, still the duo clearly had in mind the bigger picture. It definitely has a charm of its own, despite being hard to digest and most importantly, enjoy. In a way, it shouldn’t become a pleasant listen due to the nature of the stories it depicts. Even so, it’s a really moody one, the way every other Xiu Xiu album turns out to be these days. Taking risks is appreciated though.

In spite of its occasional eccentricities, shapeless is daine’s most accessible project yet.

The league Big|Brave are continuously uncovering is one of their own: not explicitly inviting, but altogether demanding and utterly rewarding.

Cracker Island is a perfectly good album made for an active audience larger and more diverse than most artistz could ever dream of having.

Overinflated and squealing: it is not more than the sum of its parts. One hundred thousand good ideas, it turns out, are not enough to make an album.

It's really cool on paper, a showcase of obvious and enormous talent with an extensive feature list that manages to satiate fans’ long-awaited fantasies while still giving them opportunities to explore new discographies. yet somehow it still ends up much smaller than the sum of its parts, particularly the main star.

Sometimes captivating, always soothingly pleasant, The Land, The Water, The Sky is an accessible effort which should appeal to a wide audience.

That dichotomy between the visceral and the lackadaisical defines This Is Why instead of its value as a snapshot of this decade's global chaos, and in that sense, this LP is neither their best nor their "most mature." Regardless, there's nothing to stop you from reveling in this album's own chaotic dynamics, seriousness and passiveness juxtaposed. It's a worthy if mildly disappointing addition to Paramore's canon.

The Jaws of Life sets itself apart by not really doing anything memorable or interesting. In fact, it doesn't do much at all besides existing. It neither follows trends nor tries its hand at anything original.

Young Fathers don't owe us anything except themselves, which Heavy Heavy feels like a true and warmly sincere extension of, a hand extended from the light across the dark, if we're willing to let go and take it.

Wide-ranging and full of thoughtful lyricism focused on the passage of time, life, and death, This Stupid World is exactly the album I’d hoped Yo La Tengo could and would release in 2023. Even if this record remains a step below the band’s defining releases, it’s a strong contender for their best outing in over two decades.

The Men have given up on trying any sort of innovation here, and instead seem to have set out to simply jam some rockin’ tunes at high volume. Call me a simple man, but yeah, it’s pretty great.

Let's Start Here. is messy, ridiculous, admirable in its ambition and absolutely insane in its execution. If the albums you love are loved because you get tangled in the weeds with them, be absolutely baffled by them and come out wondering what the hell you liked about them, time to go in for another spin to find out? Then, hop up on the ride and keep those damn questions to yourself.

This thing is a beast. If nothing more, We Cater to Cowards has convinced me that I need more of this kind of noisy bullsh*t in my life. After wading through all this thick sludge, at least two showers will be necessary, but I’m in no rush; I’d almost forgotten how much fun it can be to play in the dirt.

This is a fantastic record, both sophisticated and personable, and one that I suspect will be well-loved by a niche audience. If the album’s description here intrigues you at all, Complete Mountain Almanac’s emergence is not to be missed.

There are plenty of immediately-engrossing moments, like the dramatic vocal narration of “The Stars Will Leave Their Stage” or the rousing solo in “A Thousand Lives”, but mostly what I return for is the sense of development within songs and from one track to another. This is an album which manages to cover a lot of territory in under fifty minutes, even if the brief intro and outro tracks don’t feel fully fleshed out (my largest criticism).

The band are at their best in short, sharp, concentrated bursts of euphoria, which Late Developers delivers in spades. More importantly, they finally seem to have recognised that it's not impossible to balance their slyly wandering spirits with their wryly written pop sensibilities to rediscover themselves at their very best.

CHAOS NOW*? Boasting highly energetic rap/hip-hop, acoustically-driven indie-rock, grunge with stadium-sized riffs, and melodic hooks that will invade your mind for days, CHAOS NOW* seemingly has it all. Despite sounding as though it could be too eclectic for its own good, Dawson seamlessly integrates all of these styles into something dynamic and insanely fun.

It's a worthy follow-up to Sometimes I Might Be Introvert, trading that album's shimmering polish and clear curation for a looser, more raw aesthetic.

For better or worse, there’s nothing new or surprising about Disturbed’s eighth release. On Divisive, the band don’t step outside their comfort zone, they don’t add any new elements, they don’t push the envelope on their established formula, they’re just Disturbed – but they’re Disturbed from their classic era, which is better than nothing.

Mieke has undoubtedly struck gold with her sophomore album, notching a significant improvement from her already-respectable debut.

Past Lives isn't exactly full of surprises, but it doesn't need to be to succeed as a mission statement for a new band who seem to be around to stay, if rumours of new material brewing are any indication. Every member of L.S. Dunes is in their element even after respective years of being legends in the genre.

It goes from caustically smart presented social observations to absurd, childish rants, while keeping you dancing. I’m glad Viagra Boys found their niche without losing any of their edge.

Every once in a while, Myself In The Way’s commitment to boringness leads to some Nice Music.

The Art of Survival picks up where The Kingdom left off, but it doubles down on the sludgy, heavier, direction of its predecessor while dumping most the alt rock influences. What’s more, in this era where heavy music is the norm, Bush almost sounds fresh because there’s very few artists blending grungy heaviness with a more accessible songwriting formula.

In These Times is an alluring listen because it is multi-faceted and fun.

A few quibbles aside, this is a rock-solid debut and it’ll be interesting to see where these women take their music next.