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.

With this welcome offering of three and a half hours of unheard studio Zappa that follows one of his most celebrated albums, one can’t help but wonder what else might eventually escape from the Zappa vault.

Feeble little horse rise above the DIY pack because there’s always something to grab onto in these songs: a blast of shoegaze guitar, a passing melodic line. “She’s five foot one, you’re six foot five,” Slocum sings on a verse in “Freak” like a little ditty. It’s a miniature moment on a miniature album, but it’s smartly placed and instantly memorable.

I Don’t Know is an exciting chapter in the contemporary shoegaze book and proves to be an accomplished achievement that channels the band’s influences into something unique and fresh that explores contrasting moods within the context of melodic indie rock.

The epic “Turbines/Pigs” combines multiple elements of the band’s sound—post-rock, piano-driven introspection, intricate arrangements, jazz elements, and even klezmer flashes—for a tour de force that is but one of the highlights here.

A record that takes the most heartbreaking and difficult subject matter and weaves it into something strangely uplifting.

The typical Cole trademarks are here in abundance—the sharp lyrics; the simple but effective melodies; the deftness of touch. However, On Pain combines them with a little bit of what he was trying to avoid in the ’80s, in a very pleasing and effective manner.

Kenney approaches herself with a welcome degree of warmth and self-acceptance, a sense of perspective and grace that gives the record an airy sun-lit undercurrent. As much as these songs are reflections in the aftermath of love lost, they are equally a path forward, offering new beginnings and new stylistic rabbit holes.

Their relentless search for the perfect pop tune now a given, their sense of absurdity and wicked charm making another trip around their sun a joyful, vital adventure.

Eight manages to balance ’90s nostalgia with a hatful of great contemporary tunes which should please the faithful and silence the critics who have nailed The Boo Radleys forever to 1995. It proves you can peep over your shoulder occasionally, as long as you keep moving forward.

A dose of Strange Ranger at their most potent, polished, and adventurous.

Blur have proven the exception to the tired formula of the heritage rock revival by releasing a brilliant, brave, and perhaps most importantly, truly creative album just when it was least expected.

A powerful and consistently great rock and roll record.

I Inside the Old Year Dying has the hallmark of an album that will only get better with age.

Throughout the album, Yusuf, who will turn 75 years old this month, is in wonderful voice. He leaves, however, his most affecting performances for the album’s end.

Whether this album opens them up to a new audience remains to be seen, but Chaos County Line is full of warmth, sly self-deprecating humor, righteous anger, brutal honesty, and beautifully crafted melodies.