Sleep Well Beast sees The National flourish with candid lyrics and diverse song craft, embodying the band’s continuing evolution and life’s constant change.

While not without its songwriting inconsistencies, The Enduring Spirit has the supreme merit of forging ahead and exploring new prog(ish) territory, unafraid to take risks or sow distrust and confusion among the more conservative fanbase.

I See You is a pleasant enough listen, and in embracing Smith’s more hot-blooded production, the xx have avoided becoming stuck in a rut a second time. Yet like Sim and Madley-Croft in song after song, I See You still leaves me wanting something undefined: something more.

Ordinary Corrupt Human Love sets itself apart from previous Deafheaven releases by connecting the listener to the kind of core-of-your-soul burn that can only come from the pain of failed connection with another human being.

So it comes as no surprise that the harmonic progression does not cadence as the listener might expect; the ear wants one more chord, but Pecknold and his backup singers simply end. There's nothing more to say.

As The Stars is an album for the wide black metal audience, because it shows how bands don’t always have to choose a side and then put up blinders to the world around them. Things can be integrated, but only insofar as the breadth of a band’s musical vision and their talent in transcribing that vision into their songwriting. Woods of Desolation are more than adept at both.

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".

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

I feel like I can whittle away my days listening to this album and only this album for the rest of my life, and never have to feel anything except what this album makes me feel. Which is to say, everything.

It is a ferocious and captivating listen that twists and turns through the deepest darkest depths all the while pushing forward into new sonic territory.

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.

Autofiction manages to be both raw and cinematic, dangerous and beautiful. Put more simply, it’s an excellent rock album.

Veckatimest works like a cash-back bonus, the more you give in to it, the grander the return.

In short, it’s a shining example of personal and musical growth. There’s something to be said for toeing the line between fervent experimentation and enjoyable song craft; here, Let’s Eat Grandma walk it effortlessly.

Skinty Fia won't tell you much about whether that vein of insecurity that runs below the band's surface level of confidence can fuel good art indefinitely; in its best moments, though, it may make you want to hear the band crack open that ground and let their strangest selves out completely.

Bitte Orca is an unorthodox listen; racking your brain and melting your heart all in the same instant, and that is something to appreciate.

Devotion does something remarkable in making the universal--love, heartbreak, and yes, devotion--feel specific, simply because Jessie Ware doesn't sound like she's lying.

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.

This album is the first work by Kishi Bashi that feels like a mission, and it’s that same sense of purpose that drives Omoiyari to be the most beautiful and impactful piece of his catalogue.

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.

It's a shade better than Send Away The Tigers, itself heralded as a return to form, and in a year that hasn't really been anything special so far for straight-ahead rock, this is a standout.

A higher level of ambition and a confident balance of the various changes in tone is felt all over the record. While not all of the flaws from the new Opeth are gone, the band are giving their full effort and showing off how creative they have always been, and still are without doubt. Renewed inspiration and a fine balance between the dark and light sides of Opeth’s music make In Cauda Venenum their best work since Heritage.

Every song on IDKNWTHT is strong on its own merit, but when digested as a whole, the album is overwhelming in the best kind of way that stirs the soul.

While the 80s are a well-trodden playground, Girl with No Face proves there are infinite ways to make old ideas new by contrasting them with the now.

The Airing Of Grievances is not about anything so much as it is for everything--the beauty of life, the tragedy of life wasted, the looming of death and the desire to go out having lived fully--no, it is not about those things at all, it is for those things, it is a collection of songs written as odes to the gritty and the beautiful and the mixing of the two: our world, our sick world.

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.

With Heaven :x: Hell, what Sum 41 has given us is a true grand finale, and it's one worth reveling in.

Pure Comedy is definitively a headphone album; where I Love You, Honeybear made you swoon with its overt eclecticism, the gems here need to be unearthed after a few excavations. The album’s pacing does not help matters, burdened with a middle section that dares you to fall asleep and counts on a deep love of Tillman’s voice.

While Elemental isn't quite on par with their earlier material (more than a few tracks here are simply nothing more than feedback loops, as if the group were deliberately trying to sound scary instead of just simply being scary), as a whole package it's still a genuinely disturbing yet fascinating experience from two men truly caught up in a dialogue that only they seem to be able to hear.

In its most proficient moments, Older is heartbreaking, raw, confessional, melodically ethereal, and outright fun in flashes. These moments definitely outnumber the record’s more unfocused offerings.

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

It feels strange yet familiar, rather comforting and welcoming while also showing the artist being peacefully exalted about it. Some will need a tunneling machine to get to them, and some other will do with a spoon, but there's treasure to be found in the heart of Fossora, and if willpower is not enough to help you find them, mushrooms will surely help.

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.

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.

Even if Strange Mercy is like a blender with its top blown off, it's undeniable how convincing St. Vincent has become.

An hour of ambitious song structures, disparate vocal and instrumental performances, and lyrical esoterica concerning Houston, tied together by Travis Scott’s affection for autotune and lowest common denominator rhymes and flows. Which isn’t particularly characteristic of a great rapper, but is more or less the ingredients of great music.

There's some very remarkable playing and composing found throughout The Vigil, and because of the diverse range of sounds and styles that the album chooses to work with, there's something for every jazz fan to mull over.

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.

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.

Aura pronounces the spirit of each piece very clearly, which is cause for gratitude; there’s enough weight to these eight intricate articulations of the ineffable that each offers a distinct glimpse at something ordinarily invisible and ultimately quite precious.

The National should give faith to anyone who has become disillusioned with indie music, anyone who misses a time where it didn't seem like all the musicians thought they were better than you and you could actually relate to the damn words they were singing. High Violet is another batch of cement to further supplement The National's already unshakable concrete career.

At its dizzying zenith, Beyoncé is a loaded fusion of generosity and self-empowerment. or perhaps, more accurately, it finds self-empowerment in generosity.

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.

Not only is it essential listening for hip-hop in 2012, but also one of the few records that pushes musical and cultural boundaries in general.

On the Line as a whole never feels manufactured, or, really, like anything less than Lewis telling it to you straight.

It is both gorgeous and fearsome, and one couldn't ask for anything more.

Few albums can make such bold statements without seeming heavy-handed, but Jacklin’s sophomore effort feels as natural as the words rolling off her tongue.

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.

This is a triumphantly singular album that explores a space that only this band could have made.

On The Living Infinite, Soilwork have simultaneously stepped back to their past while maintaining their current sound, but they have also diversified their formula more than ever before--and they did so without a single filler track.

Any Human Friend cements Hackman as one of the most intriguing figures in indie-pop/rock, if not for her lyrical antics then for her ability to constantly reinvent her music.

This is very lush, star-lit country music that is practically breathtaking in the moment while transcending the typical boundaries of the genre. It's about time.

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

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 LP successfully condenses Spiritualized’s discography into a cohesive, 48-minute listen.

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.

Singing Saw is one of those albums that immediately captures your interest, but offers enough depth and hidden intricacies to make every subsequent listen just as rewarding.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

As with previous efforts, Cancer for Cure pushes the sonic envelope of hip-hop beyond its contemporaries from the very start

Sister Faith may not be entirely consistent, yet in the long run it proves way more heartfelt and genuinely bruised than a typical hardcore punk offering.

Ecate ended up as the Italians' hardest hitting and most streamlined album so far.

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.

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

This is Happening is a marathon-length listen, as in, if you can find a way to deal with James Murphy’s silly, sometimes bizarre lyrical themes and grand scale tracks, it may be worth the wait.

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.

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.

Ten Stories is at ease with its ambiguity and style-shifting.

Sadness Sets Me Free is a truly consistent affair, one of the most pleasant Gruff presented us to date.

Sleigh Bells have crafted something entirely unique and that in itself is commendable, and the fact that they've done it with such a bold sound is all the more praiseworthy (or even surprising).

Not much on this album is immediate, and that’s a little disappointing, but more than any other National work, Trouble Will Find Me hints at depths upon depths hidden beneath the surface of thirteen very pretty songs.

The album as a whole makes for an unnerving, yet oddly rewarding experience which needs to be undergone by every fan of eclectic metal.

Sulphur English is both a career spanning bow on an admirable decade and a determined look toward the future.

This is Animal Collective at their finest folks, inviting everyone in to see them at their peak and loving the freedom that comes with being on top of the world.

An Atreyu record is still very much about the feel, and this definitely feels like it's one of their own. Any of these songs could easily fit in alongside the material they have put out since 2006.

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.

Despite controversial lyrics, unconventional song structures, and a lofty concept, Blood Bitch somehow fits like a defiant glove against all the odds.

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

Yeezus is a challenging album. Usually when people say that, they imply that there will be a reward for closer listening, but I’m not sure that there is with this album.

It’s the sound of musicians that know exactly what they want to be.

Sometimes The Blues is Just a Passing Bird is a quieter set of songs, and an EP that continues to reveal both the talent and ambition of one of the most exciting folk artists of recent years.

They sound and act unlike many of their contemporaries, and seem preoccupied with carefully carving out a unique space in the modern indie scene to inhabit. It’s a fun space, regardless of how you may get there - and I’m glad to be here.

Copia is Cooper’s greatest work to date, but it leaves even more roads for him to take.

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 Worse Things Get is a listen that tears and breaks, an album defiant and loud as often as it is anxious and sad.

Burn Your Fire for No Witness’ eleven songs benefit greatly from the heightened sense of clarity afforded by the more spacious arrangements.

In self-reflection, Hopkins deconstructs Singularity; for all its avenues, detours, desperate reaches and anxious retreats, true inner peace rests on a foundation of simplicity. A modest concept, often taken for granted.