It’s a bit front-loaded, and not every track will floor you, but it’s definitely the most summative album of Robert Plant’s career.

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.

While Heritage is the strongest of this new trilogy, as well as laying the blueprint for this current era, Sorceress is able to push the adventurous qualities further to outstanding effect.

Metals, in its muted, gray imperfection, feels vital--even when it isn't.

On Connector, the accomplished quartet have recorded an immersive album that is not only satisfying in the moment, but also reveals further layers and textures upon subsequent listening.

Motorpsycho raised the expectations bar so high and continue to hold it up there. You can only criticize small details, but overall, this is another excellent journey in their catalog.

In two albums, the man shatters our conceptions of music--and in the finale of his trilogy, he glues the pieces back together and hands the end product back to us, thereby redefining the word ‘musician’ in a single gesture.

At times, it can be a difficult piece of work and its dark themes may require a few spins to grow on the listener. Irrespective, Drums and Guns is a fine piece of work, Low's best since Things We Lost in the Fire.

The Ghost of Orion is My Dying Bride’s best sounding album from a production standpoint, featuring some of Aaron’s most accomplished vocals, and guitar melodies that harken back to the days of The Angel and the Dark River, and it is a welcome addition to the My Dying Bride discography.

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.

This is, simply and purely, a great, if blissfully weird, Blur record.

It's their most accessible record both musically and lyrically.

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.

They're not really revolutionary because there's nothing that ambitious in them. Rather they're content being a light Dinosaur Jr., making pleasant, noisy indie rock with tambourines and static that's more an aural treat than a mental stimulant.

Le Bon is doodling, but as she refines it, CYRK becomes a clear piece of work with a well-clarified core.

What you find in Transcendental Youth aren't answers to any big questions, but instead questions to a bunch of answers that never meant anything before but now seem exceedingly important.

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.

But for all the praise it should receive for being the record Deerhunter were destined to make, what will make Microcastle a classic (and this has every right to become a classic) is what the album means to the person listening.

In the midst of the endless formula tweaking and inventive twists, there is nary an ill-advised departure or split-second of suggestive identity crisis. It’s all fresh, and it’s all Fleet Foxes.

The riffs are meatier, the leads are catchier and the breakdowns, while still present, are reserved for only optimal moments, making The Powerless Rise an instantly memorable modern metal album.

While Die Without Hope is a mixed bag, I enjoyed it enough to at least recommend it to Carnifex fans, fans of deathcore, or even fans of blackened death metal who are looking at a band with some potential in the genre.

When the songs are this satisfying, when each guitar solo tears through cynicism like a wet paper bag, sometimes good old fashioned honesty is more than fine. It’s downright beautiful.

here’s nothing wrong with hearing these well-written songs, packed with sashaying grooves and wobbly synths, but by the mid-section of the record there is a definite sagging point, and the album doesn’t feel as effortless to listen to as Loner did. Even so, this is as enjoyable to listen to as its former, it’s just a shame that it doesn’t progress Caroline all that much as an artist.

The centre of gravity around which they've always spun, the human heart of Berninger's lyrics that was always caked under middle-class anxiety and "quote-unquote upscale tropical funeral" surrealism, has never been easier to find. This tension between open-heartedness and discursive, tangential songwriting--let's call it the distance between simplicity and complexity, for closure's sake--is the paradox on which this album is built, and to that brilliant balancing act you can always return when it feels like it's losing the thread.

It doesn't all work, of course, and that kind of wacky humour nestled alongside self-empowerment anthems can be jarring, but it's all in service of Kesha re-discovering the fun, the joy, the rainbow.

You almost wish Friedberger would unleash more of that nervous energy that sometimes overwhelmed Personal Record, but with a record as lovingly crafted as New View, it would be wrong to ignore what remains: a songwriter with as distinct a voice as anyone in indie.

It's both primal and audacious, raw and approachable, unnerving and at times comforting. Most of all, though, it tackles the relationship turmoil in a brilliantly inventive and thrilling fashion.

If Guster can grow old and still sound so damn cheerful, maybe everything won't be so drab after all.

It crafts an atmosphere of quiet terror that also just happens to be a flawless sonic extraction of this very moment in history.

Their pre-NWOBHM influences continue to reign supreme in the best of ways, but this auditory backlash to all of the technology that we surround ourselves with on a day to day basis takes itself a bit too seriously for what most of us would come to expect from a Slough Feg record.

It’s a much more jagged experience; a patchwork as opposed to an exercise in consistency. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, Nightmare Ending manages to be Eluvium’s most evocative and interesting work to date.

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

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.

If the point of music is for us to take something from it - whether it be an emotional response or a change in mindset or any sort of inspiration - then The Age Of Adz is the most selfless album ever recorded, and Sufjan is the most giving composer.

Carly Rae captures the glitz and glamour and grime and sex and directionless sadness and anxiety of her listeners so, so well, and the way it’s wrapped up in an endlessly compelling composition of synth jams, funk accessories, and modern electro-pop makes it even better.

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.

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.

Though it's a lengthy record, at just over an hour, it's a rewarding one.

It’s warm, engaging, and possesses incredible aural imagery. This is a band that has truly resurrected themselves, having climbed out of a pool of stagnancy to craft what can only be considered one of the most creative and immediately likeable albums of the year.

What ultimately hits hardest is the aesthetic singularity of everything here.

ILYSM explores memories and how to process them in the here and now, while also being a record I expect to be remembered for a long time. It’s Wild Pink’s crowning achievement as a band.

The record’s stylistically confused (and confusing) bookends prevent the project from being a straight dream pop homerun. Nonetheless, the bulk of The Last Thing Left is essential summer listening: don’t overthink it, just enjoy the vibes.

Icky Thump, despite the presence of some simply insane over-indulgence, is a great album.

If you were one of the many that loved "I Am A Bird Now" when it was released, then you'll undoubtedly enjoy this just as much.

Bloodsports is the sound of a band who have rested, recouped and clawed back some of that old time vitality.

Despite the minor grievances and sore-thumb songs, and the fact that it's unreasonable to compare this record to its near-flawless predecessor, I Liked It Better When You Have No Heart is a sterling addition to Butch Walker's celebrated discography.

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.

It’s Ben Howard doubling down on ambiance, creating a collage of moments both fleeting and everlasting while choosing the art of the craft over the simplest path to accolades. It may take more time to appreciate, but it’s a masterclass of songwriting that will likely dictate the future direction of his music.

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.

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.

But really, it's Kozelek's voice in all its imperfect glory that makes April (and indeed all of his other work) as wonderful as it is.

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.

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.

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.

Listening to something like Thursday is the ultimate form of escapism that so many of us flock to music for. That's a quality that should be celebrated, not criticized for its lack of immediate pleasure.

It’s the sound of the world crumbling from overdoses of exhilaration, and it’s as rowdy and psychotic as we’ll all be in those final moments.

Even with the steam the record loses near its end, its willingness to go for broke seals it as the group’s most thrilling and cohesive record yet.

Patina sounds pristine and good enough to justify its own existence. When the highlight ‘Special’ carefully laces its framework with enough sparkles and ethereal vocal melodies to light up a pitch black sky, it’s hard to feel anything but joy. Tallies make music that, in absence of originality, is of excellent quality.

American Slang is a very subtle step forward from The '59 Sound, conjuring exactly the same thrills from slightly different angles. They're still the archetypal blue-collar all-American rock band given an emotionally sloppy, musically slick post-punk makeover.

The serene aesthetic is undisputedly the selling strength here, but if you’re looking for some of the band’s best creative ideas, you won’t find many of them here. Nevertheless, if you’re wanting a wholesome pop-rock album with plenty of experimentation, you may find a thing or two to like here.

There are those moments, here and there, when patience isn’t quite rewarded. .... The package as a whole however, those moments when the Pit of Language returns intoned into the drone and choir of Tar & Feathers, those moments where all of the haunted brilliance of Neubauten are on full display again, that same soul that made the subterranean abscesses of the bloated, dying West its echo chamber and forced it to confront itself.

An album like 7 easily sets itself apart from any other record Beach House has recorded thus far; it's far more easier to write it off as a derivative indie album, but to do so would discredit the obvious effort it took to actually record something so different from every other album they've done yet.

It's hard to be overly harsh on the band for getting too hung up on a good thing, even if there's a missing something holding Cartwheel back from knockout excellence. Get your twelve-year-old into it; be your own twelve-year-old to it; ravage yourself on caffeine with it.

Unrelenting, uncompromising, and infinitely catchy, After the Party is a statement album that proves The Menzingers are the best in the business.

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.

LP3 is a house built brick by brick with patient songwriting--lush arrangements that blossom over a lengthy period of time, cultivating in fully fleshed out songs. Where’s LP1’s charm largely came from its high energy and juvenile tone, LP3 is the labor of seasoned musicians.

This is a great record but is very often hit or miss.

In short, The Book of Souls is what every heavy metal fan might want a new Iron Maiden record to be and more.

So good are these songs that you don't realize they're all sort of the same until you've gone through, like, seven of them, and even then it's difficult to fault DIIV for sticking to one sound since they do it so well.

Aurally consistent, hauntingly introspective, and beautifully self-reflective in its just-over-a-half-hour duration, Don't Wait Up may not rewrite the hardcore how-to book, but it does showcase how to bow out gracefully, with nearly 20 years' worth of respect earned intact.

Two Hands is a bit less chaotic and more carefully produced than the self-titled album, but offers the same amount of fun.

To the world outside the next thirty-six minutes: I'm sorry, you just don't exist while The Hands are at work. There’s little you can do to break the immersion, and even less you can do to break Andreas Werliin’s stride.

There’s little to fault here in all honesty; it plays everything right and does so with a near flawless execution. Though one could argue it’s a little one-dimensional in terms of almost exclusively working with one style, as I said earlier, it nails the way these songs are presented.

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.

It’s hard not to feel like there could be a little more to Big Sigh, a little more to Hackman. Regardless, there is a lot to be found in this excellent album if you allow it some time, give it some space and, while it may not be as easy as it seems, embrace its familiarity.

Thankfully, the thrills don't stop with the summer's hit single.

This album is certainly worth checking for those who found something to enjoy on Bonny Light Horseman, and even for those who simply desire a mellow folky listen, but don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Chalk it up as another pretty good effort from a supergroup.

It’s not a reversal of normal Flying Lotus material. We’re still dealing with confusion exemplified as a messy but ultimately rewarding tracklist, fear exemplified as music that is just off enough that it could feel terrifying, depression exemplified as little quirks and late starts scattered like jacks and marbles. The difference is that, for once, he’s not trying to fight it all off.

More than just a pretty acoustic record, Harris, through Grouper, has created a startlingly vivid and brooding shoegaze gem that works in spite of its length and first impressions.

It may not garner the same kind of fond appreciation that fans have for The Mysterious Production of Eggs, or Break It Yourself, but this album is less a niche corner of the folk genre and more an illustrious banner for all to appreciate. In Bird’s vast canon of genre experimentation, there’s room for at least one big time indie-rock record--and this fills those shoes quite well.

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

It’s a record confident in its own making, even more so when it turns its focus inward.

The group has expanded its vocabulary and in general made its sound more broad and enjoyable.

The album feels wonderfully grounded as such, and is ideally placed as an ambassador for the open-heartedness, peace, and healing that are as key to new age as its otherworldly mystique.

Unlike previous releases, there is not a dire need to shuffle back a few tracks to listen repetitively, but more of a, 'when I'm in the mood' feeling. No Age are certainly living in the moment, and Everything In Between has a similar retention factor.

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

There are enough interesting motifs and musical adventuring on Reflektor that the negatives seem inconsequential on the whole.

There's not a weak track here, and on close inspection each song could be singled out as a highlight if debased from the album.

The song is always so compelling, so rich and vibrant, so immaculately layered that in the end it doesn't really matter. Gorguts, as usual, have created a death metal masterpiece.

It is difficult to even listen to individual songs because they flow into each other so well that it feels wrong to skip around. That said, this is her strongest collection of songs yet.

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.

This represents a new territory for both Dulli and Lanegan, and it's one that they (generally) excel in.

It’s pithy and monochromatic, forcing the listener to pay the closest attention to every movement. Every harmony is a different shade of grey, and this record does yield some of her loveliest harmonies.

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

We've Been Going About This All Wrong reflects on the darkest moments of her earliest work with a newfound sense of confidence and control fully discovered in the Remind Me Tomorrow era.

“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.

It's a shade overlong and overuse of certain choruses dampen the calculated effect of a few songs, but these flaws are barely noticeable when set against how gut-punch raw and earnest the writing is.