This New Noise feels more an intellectual exercise than a bold musical adventure. It conforms, as it should, to the event for which it was created, and pays fitting tribute to one of the most far-reaching and important institutions in the country, but ultimately, while in a live setting this material really would (and did) resonate, it rings somewhat hollow as an album release.

World of Hassle is escapism to its core. And if it didn’t have the humor or the consistent palette to sell it, the album would be either too unserious or too corny. Instead, World of Hassle is leisurely and confident. It’s as easy as a beach day.

Though Playing Robots Into Heaven recalls some of Blake’s more inscrutable, cloistered years as a musician, it also offers the clarity and confidence of someone who could do anything—but has chosen this.

There’s a lot to unpack in Several Songs About Fire, but what shines through is Savage’s songwriting ability. He is surely one of the finest lyricists working in music today.

A somnambulist journey into an ornate dream, Javelin may not be his masterpiece but it is the work of a master.

With indie rock firmly in its latest shoegaze renaissance, Slow Pulp helps lead the pack with seemingly effortless ease. It’s the sort of warm and instantly familiar album that you will surely find yourself returning to at an unexpected moment. After a few listens, you’ll fall in love.

As a whole, Sit Down For Dinner doesn’t quite capture the magic and sonically bright tunefulness from the previously mentioned albums, but it has enough of the genuine Blonde Redhead brilliance, especially those parts with Makino’s lush voice, to make it a worthwhile listening investment.

I Don’t Want You Anymore is destined to be your new guilty pleasure as the superb vocals and ultra-cool textures of these robust and vibrant tunes creep into your consciousness and stay playing in your head long after the album is over.

The album finds Loveless also returning to the top of her craft.

Not unlike the hard bop jazz drummers of old, but here Wallis’ playing is more textural than timer. It takes a few listens to get accustomed to the approach, but ultimately Cooper’s choices solidify beautifully into what seems the only way the tracks could have been carried out.

It’s an album with soul, several truly outstanding songs, and a certain profundity which reassures us that Wilco are riding yet another peak of glorious creativity, standing as one of the few remaining truly great bands of their generation.

Some longtime fans of Banhart might find Flying Wig a tough introduction to what appears like the “new” Devendra. But, as with any practice, the more time you give it, the more it emerges as its own, special self.

Mommy expertly splits the difference between the teen snottiness and insane energy of their 2000s output and a more mature musical and lyrical outlook befitting the passage of time since they last released anything.

Plucking some personal emotional strings and cultivated from the spectrum of human emotions, End of the Day is a mix of poignant and moving instrumental tracks that make a fine film score and can stand-alone as a demonstrative instrumental album.

Dream From the Deep Well is the musician’s most folk album to date as it deals with the current state of a nation or nations

Like The xx, Nation of Language impress these lustrous electronics with heart-on-the-sleeve passion. For a band that owes so much to the ’80s, their ethos couldn’t be more modern.

Mitski has not only created her most cohesive, accessible, musically diverse album yet, but also an arresting work of substantial beauty.

In moments, Meek’s twinkly-eyed infatuation with infatuation registers as overly quaint, like when he offers over-earnest, adolescent love notes on “Paradise” (“Tell me how you got heaven in your eyes”). Yet, just a few seconds later, the same song captures the beautiful fragility of love in harmonies as delicate as sugar glass.

There are moments that remind one of Allen’s ’70s work, but much of it is its own beast, being more of a piece with previous Jazz Is Dead releases by ’70s legends like Jackson, Lonnie Liston Smith, and Roy Ayers.

That these 11 songs evoke such solid mental images of their lyrical content is testament to the power of the Sparks’ songwriting capabilities, and the duo’s lasting aptitude for storytelling. And the timely, primal paean to Mother Earth weaving its wonderful way through Hollow is enough to send you off to the woods with no intention of returning.

HELLMODE is an exciting and intelligent album, perhaps Rosenstock’s most compelling since 2016’s wonderful Worry, and it’s as timely as it anthemic, which is to say, very.

There’s no handwringing; and it’s this direct approach that gives the album its power, as Eastwood reasons that whatever the whys and wherefores of somebody’s behavior, sometimes calling it out is the way to go.

It doesn’t match ULTRAPOP for surging aggression and roar but it also doesn’t try to—it’s a clenched fist in a velvet glove, a subversive punk record dressed as an arena-ready rock album, and whoever is behind the mask of The Armed should be celebrated not only for that subversion, but for this remarkable and singular explosion of idea and sound.

Everything is alive may only contain eight tracks, but Slowdive manage to craft an album of profound beauty full of emotional heft, which encompasses sadness, joy, gratitude, and ultimately optimism.

There are a handful of songs across the album, such as “Let It Go, Watch It Come Back,” that drift by without leaving much of a melodic impression after they’re gone, even if lyrically inspired. .... Fortunately though, beauty abounds in Sammy Weissberg’s (Kristine Leschper, Caroline Rose) horn arrangements throughout the album and the unexpected additions of piano on “Terribly Free” and drums on the closing “Lingering,” which better buoy Krieger’s tales.

From the upgraded sonics to the purity of each song’s message, The Window finds a band a dozen years in and still hitting their peak with each successive release. An utter joy.

The Endless Coloured Ways: The Songs of Nick Drake is occasionally fascinating and occasionally frustrating. A worthy exercise which showcases some fine performances and the fact that there are no slavish, note for note photocopies of any of Drake’s material is to the credit of all concerned.

The tender “For A Moment” showcases the power and beauty of Cosentino’s voice whilst ‘Real Life’ is another example of her ability to craft beauty from darkness and is as good as anything that Swift and Dessner came up with on evermore and folklore.