A genuinely excellent plate of upbeat summer bangers. From the bedroom to the spotlight, the most surprisingly great pop album of 2021 may have already arrived.

It may be early, but get ready to etch their name alongside some of the all-time greats. Bright Green Field is already an album rife with the qualities of a classic.

I'd call The Marfa Tapes a labor of love if it didn't sound so effortless. Ingram and Randall contribute beautiful cuts of their own (don't assume this is just another platform for Lambert), and when the three play together, the end product is as dynamic as it is breathtaking.

A gimmicky novelty album that has a handful of redeeming songs but will ultimately fade into the ether within a few months.

Fortitude may not have the charisma and power of previous releases, nor does it have the ability to take us to Sirius, yet its joyful, all-encompassing spirit unveils a new creative cycle that deserves our full attention.

What’s frustrating is the way in which Typhoons signals the less ambitious intentions of a band surely destined for more, such that its inconsistencies compound and shortcomings shine.

Civilisation II is the more substantial and overall impressive release of the two, showcasing stronger hooks, more versatile songwriting and a delicious enthusiasm for synth pyrotechnics.

Here, the sequencing is more dynamic and the lyrical settings are as intimate as they've ever been. ... Their body of work speaks for itself at this point: Manchester Orchestra is one of the greatest bands alive right now, and The Million Masks of God is yet another feather in their cap.

It absolutely rests on Big Red Machine and Fiona Apple's heavy lifting with the bookends; IDLES and Courtney Barnett deliver fine but uninspiring retreads of the originals, whereas more electronic indie-pop renderings of "Dsharpg" and "One Day" absolutely pale in comparison.

Greta Van Fleet has taken full advantage of their moment. They've cleaned up the mistakes of their first album, fleshed out their atmospheres into some truly lush and breathtaking territories, doubled down on their heavy rock edge, and crafted something that is far better than it has any right to be. Bask in it without feeling any shame.

Violence Unimagined is thus not only a treat for those who feast upon flesh but also a proof of resilience, power, and determination. It is yet another successful chapter in one of the best portfolios the genre has to offer.

With a good production, some of these tracks could have been saved, but by all accounts, Let the Bad Times Roll is the worst album The Offspring have ever made.

This is a lovable but frustrating record-by-committee, seemingly unsure of what it wants to sound like, the band's talent diluted and occasionally even aimless.

Although this is just his first album, I’m starting to think that in a few years nobody will need to drop a bevy of famous names in order to incite fervour for his music.

It’d be a disservice, though, to dismiss the album (or, even, embrace it) as nothing more than mindless fun. Save for penultimate ‘Stacking Chairs’—a satisfying synthesis of the band’s two modes—most of the singles are buried toward its beginning. Left open is a space for much tenderer moments.

Make no mistake, the payoff that Promises promises is by no means immediate. This is music to savour with eyes closed in a dark room, headphones on and all other distractions firmly yeeted from sight.

No longer supported by two decades’ worth of prophetic scope or career-highlight compositions, Godspeed’s revolution feels as performative as it always has - and a good deal more hollow.

Dream Weapon, bold reimagining that it is, could well be the line in the sand that releases the four-piece from the shackles of their historic hallmarks. The dream of another Dead Mountain Mouth or Board Up the House may have been shattered, but a new, better dream may yet be forged from the pieces. Here’s to finding out.

Is 4 Lovers isn’t a bad album, it just lacks that much-needed energy and purpose. A lot of the songs here feel like they’re going through the motions.

The latest album by indie rock's stalwarts of subtle evolution and refinement will not disappoint those of us who always delighted in their hidden textures and atmospheres as much as barn-burning screamalongs; it is a resolutely peaceful affair, totally unconcerned with forcing drama or histrionics onto its gorgeous landscapes.

It’s a competent album, fun and succinct enough for a worthwhile playthrough but too full of yesterday’s novelty to shrug off the why here? why now? concerns destined to orbit any comeback record. Individual listeners will find their own ways to make peace with this, but I struggle to view it as more than a back-to-basics top-up from an act that had very little to prove. Blessed and cursed with a handful of the most talented names in rock, it’s equal parts a welcome return and a missed opportunity.

If Norman Fucking Rockwell! was the record her non-partisan sympathisers dreamed she might make, this is the one they feared. It’s hushed but impersonal, pared-back without having anything to reveal, and verbose without saying anything of substance.

With a hackneyed focus on forcibly juxtaposing several random styles into their main rock sound, the stupidly long track names, and the uninspired hard rock instrumental work we get on here, essentially the album comes across as a tasteless meme.

When You See Yourself is a welcoming return to form for Kings of Leon. It’s a nostalgia sucker punch for those in the right time, in the right place. It's an album that their fanbase will revel in.

The end result is an album that passes by without any significant misfires, and at least a handful of headshots. It's probably a stretch to say that he's met the potential signified by the queue of people within the industry that have recognised his talent and reached out to him, but TYRON's best cuts provide further unequivocal evidence that there is something special about Tyron Frampton.

On Little Oblivions, she's taken the spaces in her music that used to be empty and filled them with churning, beautiful noise.

The band's latest intersperses melody with mania, and it's a moment of exceptional energy and creativity which should rank near the top of their career achievements to-date.

You can chalk Carnage up as anything from a zeitgeist experiment to a flawed masterpiece, but there’s something precious and compassionate at its heart that I honestly believe will make the world a better place in its own peculiar way, beyond the scope of critical evaluation.

One of the most interesting releases of 2021 so far. ... Two tracks in, some details start to surface: the production, which leaves a lot of air for the singers to breathe and shine, and the very subtle but delightful instrumentation of every track of this recording. ... In Quiet Moments recalls an album that marked a generation of artists during the second half of the 80s, a project known as This Mortal Coil introduced by an album titled It'll End In Tears.

With their feet up on the couch and laurels well and truly rested upon, they’ve gifted us with L.W. which (excepting its sister record) is undoubtedly the most comfortable LP the group has released in quite some time.

Essentially, this is an album aimed at everyone – which could explain why it’s so long and inconsistent – and while For Those That Wish to Exist is far from perfect, I do feel everyone can take some good things away from it.

Overall, As the Love Continues ends up as one solid album that does a great job blending the Mogwai we are accustomed to into a friendlier direction. I wouldn’t place it up there with the best though.

What a pleasure to have a songwriter and singer of this calibre making albums like this, with seemingly limitless texture to dig into and infinite potential meaning for every listener. Just so long as they give it the time.

They delivered neither a classic nor an embarrassing flop that revealed them as a flavour-of-the-week fancy, but just a pretty good album with room to improve.

“Chasing Birds” and “Love Dies Young” are very forgettable, sure, “Cloudspotter” (with the exception of the guitar effect in the verse, which reminds me of Torche’s “Admission”) and “Waiting on a War” are a little flat and uninspired, but overall, this is a decent return for the band and it should quench any Foo Fighters fan's thirst.

OK Human is an oddity and a warm digital hug; it's Weezer reacting to an endless, nerve-shredding, social-life-destroying period of isolation the way only Weezer can, drawing further inwards to themselves but somehow inviting us along for the ride.

The Future Bites traverses a strange course ripe with rewarding avenues and detours of failed attempts alike. It’s nothing if not fascinating, and will perhaps be more rewarding to those with a high tolerance for unorthodox marriage of various elements influenced by Prince, 1980s pop, modern electronic music, and alternative rock.

Said new album Cheater is pretty great. It dishes out a familiar set of thrills, doubling down on many of Birthday’s strengths.

Some experiments don’t add much to the listening experience, but don’t detract either. The story telling is very up front, yet the confidence and attitude never passes into obnoxious, parody of oneself territory. As a result, Welfare Jazz remains a tight effort that hopefully acts as a transition to a richer sonic canvas.

“Reluctant Hero”’s post-rock introduction and its booming mid-section pay-off delivers one of the crowning highlights for the entire album, while the rest of the record is peppered with great reverb-y, ambient soundscapes and really well-executed vocal performances from all parties involved, unearthing the squandered potential here. Unfortunately, these aspects are definitely overlooked in favour of the aforementioned thrash-y, hardcore sound.

Because it's not composed of hundreds to thousands of samples like the others, each piece has to stand out on its own. The elements are no less meaningful, just larger. It takes a skilled hand to make any mosaic, whether you're working with large tiles or tiny pieces of paper.

This is a fun, sometimes moving project, extremely consistent and concise by the standards we apply to Kid Cudi since around 2013.

For all the razzle-dazzle of its surprise release, I’m struck by hard it is to draw a lasting overall impression from the record. It adds little to the reinvention established by Folklore and doesn’t deepen her work within this sound in particularly convincing terms. I want to credit her at least for keeping up an industrious streak, but this alone would seem patronising.

They’re all good, all memorable.

Almost all these songs are dynamically stolid and melodically immemorable to the point of interchangeability; the drum parts are phenomenally disappointing coming from a musician as talented as Jimmy Chamberlain; Corgan’s voice still sounds like old tarmac with inconsistent numbers of cars passing over it; and every song follows an identical progression from midtempo verse to homogenous chorus.

Copycat Killer is an unexpectedly clumsy release and often fails to spotlight the subtitles that brought its tracklist close to excellence. Its clear attraction is that Bridgers’ gorgeous vocals are more prominent here than on the original version, but this is cancelled out by how awkwardly the string pairing tends to clash with her performance.

Thankfully, Vol. 3 takes full advantage of its longer runtime, stretching into more places than the fairly self-contained first two volumes could

Lamentations keeps you on your toes for its expansive, one hour time span. Even after multiple listens, the layers keep unfolding. William Basinski delivered one of his finest records by choosing to fragment his creative flow and explore dark ambient territories.

Fans of the band will have a blast for as long as this one lasts, feel proud for the old boys, and probably revisit it very rarely in the future.

It's cerebral, labyrinthine and self-involved.

Anti-Icon is a concise offering with plenty to offer both fans of Ghostemane and the industrial genre.

Grande is far too talented to be crafting forgettable pop albums, so here’s to hoping that she regains her footing soon.

Post Human: Survival Horror doesn’t break any moulds, it’s the sonic equivalent to fast food, by which you’ll consume it, enjoy it, and forget about it right after you’ve finished it, but it’s fun while it lasts.

Too often, the melodies are listless, the song structures are underdeveloped, and the album’s weaknesses are masked by waves of synths and ambience that add nothing to the experience other than time – and that, unfortunately, is time that we’ll never get back.

Love Is The King is weathered and patient, rarely effusive, and entirely demonstrative of its namesake. It’s a warm embrace.

Strange Timez doesn’t break a whole lot of new ground, but it’s Damon Albarn’s strongest release since Plastic Beach and an infectious celebration of the unique legacy of Gorillaz.

In reinventing and giving a modern twist to timeless but overlooked folk gems, Sam Amidon has concocted something entirely unique that nobody else could, or arguably ever would, have done...in itself, a form of inspired creation. There’s an undeniable magic to this thing. I highly encourage you to check your reservations at the door and dive in.

Given Jónsi’s past solo releases and Sigur Rós’s discography, Shiver should have been much better than it turned out. While not a complete trainwreck, it disappointingly features a minimum of the signature greatness listeners have come to expect.

Moral Panic is simultaneously the most depressing and fun rock record of 2020, and that’s got to count for something.

songs is Lenker’s most complete, her most personal work; her least comprehensible, but her most comprehensive.

Fake It Flowers won’t blaze any new trails and beabadoobee is a far cry from a pioneer, but for a brief moment in the sun, her debut is both gratifying and immediate. There’s no reason not to bask in it.

It’s still a well-produced record that plods along with a rustic charm and the occasional hook, but anyone who has followed Morby throughout his career knows he could be an icon in the modern indie-folk scene. Since 2017, however, it’s been a collage of pretty, forgettable albums. As it stands, Kevin Morby is as Kevin Morby does.

You will hear the first song five times on this album and the second song twice. Some might argue that mellow synthpop brain-emptiers of “The Darkness” and “Lifeline” constitute independent third and fourth songs, but these are such bland re-re-ree-renditions of A. G.’s longstanding crusty pop Cookbook that flattering them as autonomous entities demands a greater creative effort on your part than the man himself was ever minded to put into them.

It’s a wake-up call to those of us who are able to see the irony in the album’s name and how it conflicts with the panicked and desperate lyrics that exist at every turn.

Corey Taylor has crafted a no-frills, carefree collection of party rock tunes that, at worst, offer nothing inventive or deep but at best will give you an adrenaline rush at 2 a.m. when you’re out with your buddies getting trashed and forgetting that 2020 ever happened.

Overall, Melanie C is just good ol’ fun that does exactly what it says on the tin, and occasionally unearths moments of greatness like “End of Everything” and “Who I Am” which elevate the album into more memorable pastures.

There is roughly an EP worth of songs here that bring something remotely interesting to the table, rather than simply rehashing past ideas and reproducing beats you’ve heard in 100 other tracks before.

Despite its competence musically, Tickets to My Downfall’s cookie-cutter, antiquated presentation and MGK’s blatant ignorance make it a truly punishing experience to sit through. Punk by definition is supposed to be something that comes straight from the heart in all its raw ugliness, but this album is the anthesis of that and doesn’t even try to hide its overt shallowness.

With few exceptions, Ascension is channeled into one energy level, despite the variety of sounds. It’s busy lethargy: too hive-like to be soothing, too sedated to be invigorating.

Dropping some fresh experiments as always, we are left to discover new bits every year. This is one of their best records so far and an easy contender for album of the year in the genre’s category.

Ohms is abrasive, destructive, and alluringly beautiful – but most of all, there’s a profound purpose and longing behind every punch that they throw. After two and a half decades, Deftones are still finding new ways to energize, enrage, and inspire themselves – and with Ohms, they’re finding new ways to peak.

It’s fantastic to hear Boris exploring this side of the rock spectrum once again, and since NO is more substantial, more ambitious and better executed than Vein by a decent margin, history may end up flattering it.

Shore sees Fleet Foxes reborn and entering a new season themselves; a stunning evolution to behold. Fleet Foxes’ fourth album glistens with warmth, energy, and melody. Whereas Fleet Foxes, Helplessness Blues, and Crack-Up were earthbound, Shore sees Fleet Foxes entirely liberated and taking flight – a fresh incarnation of their former selves.

Too many of the songs’ flourishes are really just tricks of production rather than genuine songwriting ingenuity. Her ability to turn a phrase, her gorgeous voice, and her sheer charm can justify a lot, but she needs more than those tricks in her bag to sustain what will hopefully be a long and fruitful career.

Despite its searching, Hannah exudes a qualified, though not-at-all-false confidence.

Despite the similarities, the record does not fall in The Soft Bulletin’s shadow. It is definitely the work of a veteran act that learned how to evolve their sound and incorporate the past into it too. Luckily, they have reached another high point in their volatile career, continuing to move forward.

We Are Chaos uses a pretty masterful balance of old and new sounds, similar to the way he integrated The Pale Emperor’s bluesy framework with his own ghoulish traits.

Musical transcendence is a rare thing, but you can literally feel the weights being lifted on this album. It’s all so lush, airy, and pristine; a soundtrack for second chances.

At the end of the day, how one perceives Holy Moly! depends on whether they’re a glass half-empty or half-full type of person. On one hand, sound-wise, this feels like a step towards the right direction. On the other hand, Blues Pills are kinda like the 2005-06 LA Lakers; replace Kobe with Stephen Jackson, or another decent shooting guard, and what you have is a 20-win team instead of a playoff seed. Similarly, replace Elin with another decent vocalist, and chances are that we wouldn’t be talking about Holy Moly! right now.

Flowers of Evil should represent an erasure of the false dichotomy of high art and base pleasures, but it feels like a middle ground strewn with the negative qualities of both, and will likely leave its audience in that chocolate-on-face state of feeling oversatiated and a little cheap.

If you’re a fan of Static-X, this is a candid labour of love that moves away from the stigma these releases are known for. It might not be reinventing the wheel, and it may sound like a time capsule dug up from the nu-metal burial ground, but for fans of that time period or fans of the band, there’s no denying its charm.

The bare arrangements are a compliment to her voice, which is nimble enough to meander through all of the record’s introspective verses while also retaining enough power to deliver the occasional knock out chorus.

They're spinning a lonely, sad narrative on Down in the Weeds..., but in telling the story they share it with all of us, which naturally transforms it.

The Killers’ sixth studio album embodies the band’s liberated spirit and boundless appetite for the grandiose, all while beginning to make up for over a decade of below average material. Imploding the Mirage will finally have you smiling about The Killers again – and yes, this time, like you mean it.

D'Agostino remains one of music's most enigmatic yet intensely relatable figures. A voice like a car engine cutting in and out and the discursive, layered nature of his songwriting ensures the full impact of Empty Country won't land for several listens. This, if anything, is just another notch on its list of strengths.

There’s a lot to unwrap lyrically and thematically on Show Pony. It offers a layer of depth that simply doesn’t exist in certain pockets of country music, and brings all of this to the table while stretching the genre’s sonic boundaries.

It’s not as consistently good as Now What?! and it doesn’t contain inFinite’s peaks. Nonetheless, it’s classy, enjoyable, and it’s certainly commendable to see legendary musicians who have nothing to prove, feel the desire to express themselves artistically.

We may need more time to determine where Jaye Jayle falls on the spectrum dark and depressing 80s-tinged rock, but Prisyn will immediately step in as one of the best – and most befitting – post-apocalyptic records of 2020.

Her hit rate is a tad more consistent here than it was on Perfect Shapes. It won’t be the most memorable outing you hear this year, but if you’re reading this in anything approaching a wistful funk, there’s a decent chance Sucker’s Lunch might be exactly what your mood calls for.

Further focus is rewarded with a deeper experience, sadder and more upset than you might hear the first time.

As with Lover, folklore wears out its welcome by containing too many tracks. A tighter song list would have done a world of good.

There is considerable depth, particularly lyrical, offering the listener a significant amount of brilliant content to dissect. It may not be the album some fans wanted, still, it is an important step forward in the band’s sonic journey and overall development.

As it stands, Earth is a subtle and enjoyable little singer/songwriter album that highlights Ed O’Brien’s songwriting prowess.

“She Shines” displays fleeting snippets of raw emotion over chunky guitars, while “In Time”’s surging, punchy, melodious hooks bring some recognition of greatness to the forefront, but overall, the majority of the album seems pretty content with functioning on passive, prosaic ideas with little staying power.

To its general credit, this music doesn’t really belong to 2020, but neither is it a ‘90s time capsule: it’s a Hum record through and through, and its assurance as such is far more exciting than talk of timeframes, expectations or comebacks. Hum are right here.

The main problem it faces is trying to successfully combine her new, slower palate with the tense, rapid-fire elements she's known for. To anyone who has been listening to her discography for long, this is clearly something that will be difficult for anyone to pull off. And to her credit, she tries.

Omens is an excellent album, one that is both familiar for fans and a step further in Elder’s sonic evolution. All the noodling and meticulous structure developments paid off, since all songs flow impressively smooth.

The only concern with this LP is that it doesn’t really explore new grounds. It somewhat recapitulates their experiments, albeit in a tighter, more experienced manner, instead of taking steps forward. Despite this setback, the record is arguably their hardest hitting in over a decade.