It is far from perfect yet could never possibly get there.

They are masters of atmosphere and intrigue, and flirting with pop music has only further aided their chameleonic nature, with this being their most satisfying and diverse effort in many years.

Whether she’s touching on the impact of losing a legend like Bowie or battling her own demons, Strangers in the Alps is a vibrant and rare debut that’s not afraid to tell it how it is.

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.

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

Regardless of the circumstances surrounding its creation, Curse Your Branches is Bazan's best album to date.

At once a thorough progression of style, a blisteringly catchy indie pop record, a more accomplished indie rock record, and finally, a wordier but far heftier slice-of-life ode to being young and younger-than-you-feel (oh, love), We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed follows up on a promise and then some.

While its brighter moments are generally its better moments from my vantage, it's hard to deny the value and purpose of the storm in such a cycle. And for a band releasing their final album, developing such beautiful replayability is one of the sweetest parting gifts to us critics and consumers.

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.

This is yet another strong release from a veteran crew whose mature-era output puts the vast majority of bands of their tenure to shame. Additionally, as a relatively trim outing and with its inherent jamminess (that’s a word), Ancient Astronauts can serve well as a solid first experience for Motorpsycho novices.

If you choose to look for the metaphors, there's beauty and even redemption to be found in Now Only; if you don't, there's a kind of quiet acceptance in the numbness.

Overall the album is a strong crowd pleaser so to say, though most of the album has to work a bit to get out of the long shadow of the major anthems hitting you early on in the first fourth of the track list.

Immunity presents itself as the missing piece of the puzzle, the catharsis we were conditioned not to expect. In this very moment, our preconceptions of Jon Hopkins have been entirely undermined--and there’s little to do but enjoy the hell out of the twist of events.

Overall, Our Raw Heart is a truly encompassing journey that requires multiple listens to unfold itself (much like any YOB album). There’s anger, frustration and melancholy to be found, still, at the end you’re left with a sense of relief.

This is a fantastic return that shows the artistic thrust we’ve come to expect from the band, but it’s done in a way that sheds their controversial desires for good, honest songwriting. It’s probably the most vastly experimental offering to date, next to Rosenrot, but it makes sure to add a trove of tasteful elements from previous sounds while it’s doing it.

This is an album you can connect your own hopelessness with. It's weirdly relatable, this album, with not really its lyrical content but its various moods.

Between the obvious stylistic growth of Shakey Graves and Rose-Garcia’s ramped up creative appetite, Can’t Wake Up presents itself as the definitive album of the project’s discography. It masters its own atmosphere, swelling with confidence at each and every turn while inviting all who listen to join in. It only gets stronger as it goes on.

On the one hand, this is a record which sees Destroyer recalibrate their formula, quite successfully, to avoid any potential staleness in the fifth incarnation of their recent run. As such, it feels like a record that most, if not all, music fans with any interest in Destroyer could enjoy. On the flip side, this album also continues the trend that Have We Met began, accentuating Bejar’s idiosyncrasies in a more pronounced way than before.

Fade is not an exciting record on its face, but finds itself in the emotional peaks that surface hazily here and there, through colorful production and exquisite songwriting.

A completely brilliant beginning to what hopes to be a long and bright career.

The Car is crackling with a wickedly fun energy underneath the surface of its mid-tempo mugging, if you're willing to take the commute and meet it halfway.

Squire helps to mount these stories and it’s this that makes Lost Wisdom last.

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.

Despite avoiding it for a period of time, Yorke came through with his best solo album yet. He assuredly created a multi-layered horror soundtrack that serves as an engrossing confection of new musical landscapes in its own right while being essential to the film’s effect.

Vampire Weekend banks on showering its tribal pop with lyrics poised for literary analysis, skimping pretentious by appearing completely natural.

White Fields and Open Devices is simply one of those albums that is well-composed and well-executed.

The record still varies its tempo from time to time, resulting in some truly gorgeous gems.

In the end, this is a very good, borderline excellent, album, weaving together a delicate atmosphere with well-crafted arrangements and (unsurprisingly) beautiful lyricism, but strokes of genius are few and far between.