This latest effort is an unabashed classic hip hop record for you to either take it or leave it. The only disappointment is that it could have easily been more than this.

The Long Road North is a more sophisticated record than A Dawn to Fear, and Cult of Luna’s reputation for steely competence is quite at home in its various details and refinements. It’s less contingent on the intensity of individual moments, benefitting more from a pervasive atmosphere of the risky-wilderness-journey variety.

Present Tense is a comfort album on the pleasant side of catchy; it’s the perfect collection of songs to augment your mood when the weather climbs to twenty-something centigrade.

CRASH might not be up there with her best, but it's still a good pop album, and worth trying for any fans of the genre.

The production is a tad artificial at times, way less organic than the somber, daring spirit of Opus Eponymous, but every instrument is performed with impressive precision by every ghoul, and Forge's vocals sound on point most of the time, save for some grating moments when he seems to fall out of character. The added backing vocals and the meticulous arrangements enhance greatly the album's overall sound, but the question remains if these sorts of embellishments are enough for the loyal sheep to keep their faith on what the Clergy is feeding them.

The lyrics might not always make linear sense, but there’s a sort of appealingly weird logic to it all, and the musical soundscapes invite the listener towards some (often placid) alternate dimension. This may be a mood listen, more than anything, but as a soundtrack to a relaxed moment on a sunny day, you could do a whole lot worse.

The Jacket is an excellent foray into dream pop, country, indie, music, textiles, life, the stratosphere.

There is both a braggadocios confidence and an honest humility across all of If My Wife New I’d be Dead, a masterfully created dichotomy that is at the center of everything that CMAT creates.

Timewave Zero isn’t going to fuel everyone’s jet, and those looking for another slab of progressive death metal madness are sure to be miffed. Comparatively speaking, this little group from Denver set the bar dizzyingly high with their death metal albums one and two, but regardless of preference, Blood Incantation continues to impress—resetting the timeline as they go.

This album is so pure, so deeply felt that cynicism and pre-prepared anti-hype will just slide off it like a light breeze; that even low points like the clunky, ridiculous "returner" - the band's worst song, as if that means a lot for a band who've never made a bad one – barely make a dent. It's the finest work by a band finally mature enough to trust in sound and texture and feeling, and in good time it will outrun any lingering reputation and be crowned as a masterpiece.

It's a case of every sound in its right place, every idea developed in a way that is thoughtful and skillfully executed at best and pretty at worst, every track clearing that rather translucent bar that separates “that was boring” from “that was nice”.

Legrand weaves a series of intersecting narratives of love and loneliness, intimacy and abandonment, maturity and nostalgia. Any one of these themes is rich enough to fuel far more than Once Twice Melody’s eighty-five minutes, but Beach House’s storytelling is defocused to the point of indistinction, strung out of moody vignettes that flow like asphalt and stick like the tide. ... Fortunately for us all, this is just too gorgeous a record to pose a true slog.

A doubling down on their unapologetically weirdest influences; instead, a scattershot sampling of basically every sound they can conjure, recorded in every different way. The only thing Dragon... cements is that nothing about Big Thief is set in stone, which is in its own way an absolutely remarkable achievement.

The execution on Synchro Anarchy is often crazed and thrilling. Other than some brief, but ominous doom-inspired guitar sections in “Mind Clock,” it’s a nonstop thrill ride.

If you felt Be More Kind and No Man’s Land missed the mark, FTHC will remind you of why you fell for Frank in the first place.

Small blemishes aside, CAPRISONGS is cool, calm, composed, and immediately apparent.

The Gods We Can Touch feels like a very round pop record, a little bit of everything for everyone, and it's been smartly complemented by great visuals (the video for "Cure for Me" is mesmerizing) and an impeccable production job by Magnus Skylstad, who doubles down as a drummer in her live performances, and multi-instrumentalist and producer Matias Tellez. Definitely a strong contender for one of the most interesting pop albums of the year.

Few Good Things is a vibrant, technicolour celebration of life's triumphs and joys.

Balanced on the bleeding edge of Yeule’s morbid visions, Glitch Princess practically crackles with vitality and affirmation in their desperate, unadulterated, damaged, awkward willingness to show all and be heard. Does that make it inspiring or depressing? I don’t care. It’s the most meaningful music I’ve heard in years.

Where Myth Meets Memory is the slickest, most confident tracklist Rolo Tomassi have ever laid down, and the only real candidate for their hitherto non-existent single-defining-work.

This newfound willingness, even ability, to just be nakedly emotional and let the melodies lead is the best weapon this new Black Country, New Road have at their disposal. Isaac Wood, who once seemed right on the edge of slipping into complete post-ironic-irony with his spoken word drawl, sings the entire album in a delicate quaver which is a perfect fit for this new vulnerability.

Evan and co have set out on, their latest foray into the thicket may well be their most patient and under-dramatic to date. Organic and breathable are its tunes, blooming in real time with warm swirling arpeggios (Iodine) and the spindly swaying of oak and pine (Habitat).

Tissues is occasionally uninviting in its austerity, but it makes up for this by being so easy to follow; it’s intuitive enough that it doesn’t have to be ‘deep’, but at the same time, it’s too fleshed out to be shallow. If Daijing is still taking that ocean bath, she’s no longer treading water.

Aside from its occasional highlights, Crisis of Faith feels haggard, tired and lost: branching in a handful of uninteresting, jarring directions with little apparent rhyme or reason.

It's not the kind of album that wastes time on flashy features and big beats to demand your attention, but if you come to it anyway, you might find more to Elephant In The Room than you would have expected.

In all, Turn Up That Dial treads familiar ground, but their heart-on-sleeve message of empathy and admiration for friends, family, and the gift of music is a welcome addition to their discography.

Formula of Love could have been trimmed to 10 strong cuts and I am sure it would have been one of the tightest Kpop albums in recent years. It’s easy to dismiss it due to the genre it represents, but there was considerable effort put into most of these songs, so it’s worth some listens.

American Siren is the kind of album that connects with you on a personal level, leaving all kinds of potent thoughts dancing around in your head. Few songs in recent memory have stunned me with a rushing flood of emotions like the heavy cuts here did with ease.

30 might not have been the cleanest of breakups, but it more than translates in lyrical form.

This record holds up on its own terms, and it’s pretty enough to do well on anyone else’s.

Blood Moon I is also the heaviest and most impressive expression of Chelsea Wolfe and Ben Chrisholm's music, powered by the incombustible force of Converge and the everlasting spirit of Cave In, and resulting in one of the most impressive collaborations of this kind. Blood Moon I is, truly, an essential album for 2021.

An Evening With Silk Sonic lives up to its billing as a true experience: it’s sexy, ever-so-smooth, and radiates confidence and charisma. ... An Evening With Silk Sonic marks the pinnacle of Bruno Mars’ and Anderson .Paak’s respective musical careers.

The old gang is back together, and they’ve cooked up a project that’s compelling front-to-back, a clear progression on their established styles both separately and as a unit without a bad track in sight.

Red – both in its original form as well as with these welcome additions – is an absolute triumph.

It’s encouraging to see Thrice so keen to play with different palettes at this point in their career, and they clearly have enough of their old touch left to make those critical moments count. However, if Horizons / East really represents a new dawn for the band, one can only hope that its rays penetrate a little further across its recently confirmed sequel.

It’s another impressive piece of art from the everchanging Emma Ruth Rundle, and the beginning of something entirely different from the wandering artist.

Without a doubt, it’s ‘heavier’ than past PoGs on a moment-to-moment basis, but its constituent pieces of songvomit are frequently disjointed and undeveloped to the point that you straight-up question why the band were so unwilling to dig any deeper into them.

Overall, Still Sucks transfers over the energy and fun from its predecessor, but at just over thirty minutes in length, they were left with very little room for errors, and unfortunately here, there are some pretty glaring ones. ... But if nothing else, it’s a decent addition to their discography.

It’s Marissa Nadler’s most ambitious undertaking from a lyrical perspective, but she pulls it off brilliantly while simultaneously delivering an album that sounds so lush, sweeping, and powerful that all of the subtle, intricate melodies are merely the cherry on top.

Years from now I’m sure we’ll still be returning to Lost in the Dream as The War on Drugs’ indelible classic, but that doesn’t mean that I Don’t Live Here Anymore won’t possess its own well-deserved audience.

The Myth of the Happily Ever After serves as an excellent and shockingly ambitious outing from a band that seemed to be trending in all the wrong directions not long ago. With this album, they’ve reclaimed control of their story.

Orbiting around the frivolity of human existence and overpopulation, Existence Is Futile is yet another successful chapter in a gothic horror novel that began thirty years ago. It is thus both a celebration and a testimony to the power of perseverance.

Radical is by no means a reinvention or revelation for the band, but I wouldn't want it to be. In refusing to fix what ain't broke, ETID prove themselves once more as the reigning king of their peculiar, blood-splattered bouncy-castle.

Eternal Blue’s introduction makes way for it’s more poignant and celebrated ending.

Mercurial Bay is bland and overpolished and probably insecure and definitely destined to make mincemeat of fickle hearts all over the web. It is good and shiny like an overviewed but freshly refiltered Instagram photo of a Hollywood sunset.

Sticky is the very definition of throwing sh*t at the wall and seeing what sticks. Unfortunately for this album, nothing does, and all you’re left with is the horrible odour from its experimentation.

Sadly, ‘Coloratura’ is not enough to save the LP from being a mess. In the end, you can’t even say you are disappointed anymore. This is who Coldplay are now, producing the most casual music for the most casual listeners possible.

About two-thirds of Moral Hygiene is good and there are no tragic moments at all. In essence, the LP brings together most of what Ministry explored during the last three decades. The results are not stellar, but Jourgensen found a balance again between getting his point across and focusing on diversifying the music.

With furious drama, callbacks to older tracks, and references to their own unwieldy name, the band’s fourth record would make for a theatrical swan song. Lord knows the revolving door that is their lineup lends itself to an unexpected and sudden demise. The World Is, however, appear to be tighter and more focused than ever before.

Expands on the sound she has been sculpting from her debut to the point of creating something that is unmistakably hers. You’ll read comparisons with Grouper here and there, but I can assure you this operates on another level.

The lethal grindcore squad hits ten with this new release engrossing a catalogue that knows no missteps just yet. If hell is what you want, hell is what you'll receive. In abundance.

The result isn’t moving, per se, but it is at its best affecting and warm (Reach Out, The Pillar of Souls and Cimmerian Shade exemplify the record at its most beautiful, for my money). ... Interestingly, the duo save their best - and their most experimental - until the final two tracks.

All in all, Bright Magic is one more solid entry into the duo's catalogue.

Conquering does nothing genuinely new, and that’s genuinely okay. The basics are the basics for a reason and, as Employed to Serve demonstrate, executing them with passion and precision is sometimes all that you need.

What these artists have pulled together in their last outing as a trio is something more than the sum of its parts, a paradoxical masterpiece that lies somewhere in the space between, blindingly bright and painfully incomprehensible.

The songwriting here is too good to deny, and its shortcomings are merely down to personal preferences. If you’re looking for a well-made rock album with all the pop and punk trimmings, look no further than Lifeforms.

From Dreams to Dust packs all the wit, creativity, and emotionally compelling depth that you'd expect from a band leading the country/Americana charge - until now, we just didn't know that band was The Felice Brothers.

Except for the last two somewhat average songs, this is an accomplished work that defies canons without ever truly dazzling.

The maturity and class displayed here is a pleasant surprise (which has nothing to do with Musgraves, and everything to do with divorce/breakup album stereotypes), and the experience is unexpectedly serene given the music's content and overarching themes, but otherwise star-crossed is merely nice: a lukewarm batch of songs eager to saturate backgrounds rather than absorb your full attention.

Sleigh Bells have not sounded this rejuvenated or fun since they first appeared on the scene over a decade ago. Their core spirit and whatever magic it contained is back in full force, and it’s arguably more potent than ever.

Truth be told, it's the kind of album rappers should be dying to make: smart and sensitive, beautiful and brutal, uncompromising in doing exactly the things it sets out to do.

All of the songs here have excellent qualities to them but have their momentum jarred by some by-the-numbers moments. ... These flaws are not new though, and they don’t stop Senjutsu from being another solid album in the new-millennium Iron Maiden catalogue.

Two new tracks make this compilation all the worthwhile, with the devilish funk of "Fill My Mouth" being one of the best tracks the band has ever released, and the creeping incantation of "Queen of the Underground" wrapping up this collection of essentials from the Swedish collective.

It’s too much. As much as I enjoy the solid starts a la “Monochrome” and “The Double Helix of Extinction” there’s a lot of filler and needless over indulgence in the form of gimmick.

It's a remarkably restless and hungry 40 minutes of music, maybe bordering on scattershot, if not for one thing holding it all together. That would be De Souza's own vocals. Put simply, she gives the best performance of the year on this album, her powerhouse voice bursting out of the seams of every song like it simply can't be contained.

If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power is on an upward trajectory in terms of Halsey releasing quality music. By and by, Halsey may not have love, but her latest record is power.

It's not Kanye's return to form, but it does enough to stave off the kind musical irrelevance that seemed to be creeping up on him as his detestable personal misconduct began to dwarf his poor-to-middling studio output.

Tropical Fuck Storm's latest record simply reproves their enigmatic worth, and then doubles down on it in a way that no other artist comes close to emulating.

Thrice Woven may be credited with returning this Olympian outfit on the right path but ultimately, Primordial Arcana combines the band’s better features into one, defining release.

All told, 333’s latter two-thirds are full of similar highlights, individually enjoyable but somewhat piecemeal as a collection. It’s full of threads that almost come together and, more importantly, a generous swathe of playlist fodder, but I can’t say I’m a huge fan of having three semi-distinct aftertastes in my mouth at the same time. Tinashe’s voice is impressive throughout, even if some songs don’t allow for the most engaging performances.

In the long run, How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last? will be remembered as a success of chemistry and careful balance. ... They sound confident and ebullient, and even the darkest moments are tinged with the hope that community and collaboration can bring: the sound of musicians reveling in the sheer, simple joy of making music, with brothers or with the family that they chose.

The truth is that there are things to like here – namely some new percussive elements and O’Connor’s ever-rich voice – but Solar Power comes across as painfully flat compared to her first two records.

Though it lacks depth, the music is exceptionally pretty. And rather than epiphany, Samia finds satisfaction in brief, glittery moments of quiet revelation.

Model Citizen is absolutely straightforward and all the better for it, even if its second half can't quite live up to the relentless good vibes of "Brighter Days (Are Before Us)" or heavier banger "Mapped Out".

While documenting the shattered dreams of small town Americana, Brandon Flowers has finally created the Earth-mover that he's always lusted after – and ironically, it comes during a moment of quiet reflection.

It’s an emotionally dialed-in, instrumentally ramped-up, and vocally memorable collection of mismatched ideas that somehow function together smoothly. Even amid the record’s eclecticism, it’s still a definitive Foxing experience.

Kris Esfandiari and her team have created something truly special with this album, a musical piece where the divine is given voice and flesh to envision what is Kris' most honest and enrapturing work of her prolific career, and be sure it won't be the last one.

Ultimately the thoroughly satisfying maturation on display is enough to overcome any lyrical shortfalls.

While this record's predecessor was the definition of a mixed bag, Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night is markedly reliable - a product that you're likely to either take or leave in its entirety.

The results are daring, but she’s succeeded in making the best pop album of 2021, thus far.

Spiral is a swoon worthy record, and one that cements Darkside as one of the brightest glowing acts of its kind.

It’s smart at points, silly at others, often musically unremarkable, occasionally pure pop gold and easily listenable without providing significant satisfaction for more than ten to fifteen minutes after the act of consumption.

Sling does what all excellent folk records should: tell a story, and provide a glimpse inside the narrator's mind during that process. Sling's only real fault is that the melodies don't stick, but knowing the plight behind Claire's music makes it worth returning to again and again. Albums like that always seem to win us over in the end.

Home Video is a vibrant, unsparing celebration of life's many chapters and what it means to be human: flaws, doubts and all.

Even though The Nightmare of Being doesn't gather all the necessary ingredients to establish itself as a masterpiece of the genre, it is most certainly a worthy and surprisingly contrasting addition to the band's discography.

They've rarely sounded this in-tune with each other or this certain of their purpose. It's gorgeously arranged, amazingly textured, and evocative in ways that only patient music can be.

A good-to-great set of songs, that would make a fire mixtape if you cut the energy-draining bores "RUNITUP" and "I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE"? A half-finished classic album, powered by reckless abandon and thrilling energy, but too scattershot to make it over the finish line? It's both, and neither, and I don't know, man. ... Call Me If You Get Lost is too busy shooting itself in the foot and calling it coming down to earth to be complete, but following along with its fragmented course down is still an exercise worth engaging in.

The Golden Casket reveals itself to not only be the group’s most colorful release in quite some time, but also one of their most consistent.

Baptize is as much a trip through modern day Atreyu cliché as it highlights the best of the group’s more...aged cuts.

They have managed to produce their most easily accessible album while still clearly sounding like Fear Factory.

Every song layers Levine's singing/clumsy rapping over the most cringe inducing trap beats, and most of the time he sounds like a middle-aged stepdad trying to sound "hip" to get in good with his stepson. It's transparent cultural and trend pandering, and even when Levine adheres to his bread and butter, the melodies are more vanilla than usual.

Bodies is a well put together album that will appease hungry fans, but it's not the injection of life that AFI so desperately needs at this stage of its career.

Nowhere Generation is merely a good album that offers us a worthwhile batch of late-career songs.

Across all of Blue Weekend, one thing is very clear – this is Wolf Alice’s best offering to date, and clearly one of those albums that qualifies as an event. It’s emotionally stirring, sonically riveting, and just as unpredictable as always. It’s the full realization of everything Wolf Alice ever aspired to be: poignant and melodic, raucous and edgy, and certainly every possible shade in between.

His performance on The Off-Season will have hip-hop oldheads smiling, nodding, reminiscing on days of old. ... The lack of any poignant through-line either sonically or thematically will have bespectacled journalists shaking their heads and talking about how Kendrick does it better.

Its moments of potential aren’t to be to be trifled with, but neither are they enough to elevate it from a stale sequence of overthought ideas, and this is a real tragedy given its stark contrast to the preview performance the band gave on KEXP back in April.

It's not only his best (yes, even better than Lonesome Dreams), but also his lushest and most emotionally absorbing. Acoustic guitars shimmer like diamonds on the surface of a still lake, while Ben Schneider's melodic verses echo a magical blend of nostalgia and romance.

Freed from the weight of being some kind of statement on a legacy impossible to define, and sans the walking-on-eggshells of the first CZARFACE/DOOM collab, Super What? looks more and more like three excellent rappers just chipping away in the studio, no expectations or external pressures.