There is certainly potential here, but this first Bloodmoon record definitely feels like a testing ground. There is an uncertainty in tone, and a clashing of sensibilities that is thrilling at times, awkward at others.

Pilgrimage of the Soul feels like a statement of intent from a band now entering their third decade of existence, and this is a fine record that both acknowledges past victories and shows desire to develop and progress to new ground.

All in all, Crawler is a return to form for IDLES, albeit with a handful of sub-par offerings. There’s still more than enough here for them to be rabble-rousing festival headliners, but also some tracks that offer up new ideas that they could carry forward.

Maturity and perspective are offered up at every moment of Which Way To Happy.

There’s nothing on this third round that shocks or surprises, it’s all standard formula Barnett except for her witticisms being down-played slightly, and maybe her watered-down mope-rock influences are a little brighter on her sleeve.

The Nearer the Fountain, The More Pure the Stream Flows is perhaps the deepest inquiry into the artist – but again, we don’t really know if what we are seeing in the mirror is real.

Engine of Hell underscores her gifts as a songwriter and for minimalistic arrangement, also illustrating her talent for unadorned performance.

On paper, Horizons / East sounds like a return to form, but in the end, this is all miles from what Thrice were doing a decade ago. ... Thrice are going to have to try a little bit harder next time.

Public Storage might initially seem a bit oblique with its monochromatic, solemn moods, but like a faded family photograph, there’s a lot of subtle warmth to be found if you rummage through it long enough.

Summer has created a phenomenal album that is top-tier confessional R&B. Every painful angle of relationships is explored right to the bone and her blunt honesty is wrapped in boppy production and satisfying melodies. She may still be over it, but listeners will not be over this project for a long time to come.

It’s a surprising record, and another good example of what makes Mann such an indispensable songwriter, but it’s hard for most of these songs to stand alone – we’re left wondering what’s really going on between these melancholy ruminations.

Their latest LP, Christfucker, is a further and consummate refinement, resulting in a milestone of seamless eclecticism and uncompromising savagery.

Even if this is her most ‘focused’ release yet, the lingering thought after the snappy 24 minutes of Lily We Need To Talk Now is the abundance of upside she still has left to explore. Though, to her credit, Lily Konigsberg has been doing that every time.

While it has quite a few tracks that stand out, besides the glamorous opener, due to their use of pathos-laden synthesizer hooks (“Ben Franklin”, “Headlock”) and moody refrains (“Glory”, “Automate”), the gentle ballads and groovy mid-tempo tracks that make up the album’s second act don’t seem as stylized or aggressively emotional musically as their lyrics demand.

The album is suffused with atmosphere, and is full of intriguing narrative ideas, compelling lyrics, and some of her most well-observed stories. Ultimately, though, it ends up coming off a bit too staid and stuck in its own yawning landscape to truly take off.

Hand Habits’ music is the kind where there are no certainties; it’s all searching with the occasional discovery, but the detail of the journey is the beauty.

Beginning with another Strokesian riff, Geese build momentum for a catastrophic finale and deliver the goods in an almost Deerhunter via Monomania-like fashion, before abruptly pulling the plug, and ultimately leaving us wanting more.

There’s something ungraspable about their music: referential yet original, derivative yet prototypical, memorable yet oddly irretrievable. Ponderous yet transcendent. A listener is invited to encounter the assorted boundaries of their own preferences, biases, identity – to let those hard lines dissolve.

What rides at the top and takes your attention pretty much all the time is Taylor herself. Her words are honest and palpable, but also unflinchingly direct.

Yes, this will drive some away, and allow critics to easily point to its messiness (as if NFR wasn’t all over the place aesthetically – something Antonoff’s production homogeneity cleverly disguised – same with Lust for Life, or the underrated Born to Die), but it is also rewarding and surprising.

It’s a little loose, a little shaggy, and sometimes simply unimaginative or rote, but it also provides an intriguing glimpse into the archives of one our most beguiling artists.

Over the course of the album, we seem to hear Fohr coming to terms with the vastness of mortality, and realising that it is in itself beautiful – it is what makes life precious. With the enormity of that acceptance gradually arriving, her soul emerges, no longer eclipsed by grief, shining brighter than ever.

Far In handles weighty themes outside of love, such as the apocalypse, but Lange’s gentility is what we take from it. His presence is always thoughtful, sincere, never forceful or selfish.

Sympathy for Life‘s strongest moments come in the songs that sound least like the Parquet Courts we’ve known before.

The album does offer some nice expansions on themes and compositional ideas from his debut. But, all in all, too much of Moondust for My Diamond gets lost in its own glittery haze.

Her transitions between language and style are seamless, and the carefully crafted and idiosyncratic arrangements help to guide our ears along with her mind and heart.

Their new album, Mercurial World, is a careful collection of pop tracks that threaten, but never quite, reach a boil.

Illusory Walls is a definitive document of the power of their combined ability and belief.

Friends That Break Your Heart is Blake at his most pared-back and unflinching lyrically and could also be considered his most accessible album yet. For some, this dismal balladry might feel a bit too far removed from the experimentally-textured electronics of his first two albums, yet Blake has found a brilliant way to still be unconventional and accessible at the same time.

Luminol’s focused stylistics and singular aesthetic succeed overall, yielding a distinctly cohesive and compelling project while further establishing Johnston’s already recognizable brand.

One thing that can’t be denied is that it opens up more with each listen, and if this isn’t a reason to keep returning to it again and again, then I don’t know what would be.

Liminal Soul's likeness to work by others in her country does make it a bit blander than what her fans would expect. Nonetheless, the signature feelings of coldness and solitude, among many other sensations, are still very much present on the record.

Free I.H. may have been Tudzin’s war cry, but Let Me Do One More is a comfort record. It shows resilience and passion from one of indie music’s most intriguing risk takers.

Ultimately, Colourgrade feels like staying up all night on the couch alongside Tirzah, but rather than chatting away, you exchange the occasional warm remarks, getting no nearer to knowing what’s really going on inside her head.

As good as Poppy’s previous work was, this is a whole new level.

one hand on the steering wheel might not have any clear missteps (though the jagged pedal twang filling the empty space on “violence” wears a little thin all too quickly), but it may take some time to warm to. Some offerings are more instantly likeable than others.

A Beginner’s Mind proves the two are not only capable of making beautiful music as a duo, but bodes well for their solo work to come — it’s yet another captivating plot point in their overarching narratives.

His voice soulfully conveys the journey in all its deviations and obstacles unflinchingly while still providing listeners with the means to immerse themselves and bop their heads along.

When Woman On the Internet isn’t fun, bold, or thoughtful (or all three at once in some parts), it’s reflective.

This is a great and important record. Just listen.

They’ve released what is arguably their definitive record, they wouldn’t have any obligation to release anything else.

Overall, it seems that Motorists are the most compelling when infusing elements of krautrock and motorik into their work.

The Hill comes alive and is best enjoyed when under close inspection. With each subsequent release, the band have placed greater value in texture as a driving force for eliciting emotional reactions, and this album continues that trend.

A fairly unique record that shape-shifts through electronic tones all while giving us a clear view of her inner monologue.

Even if Texis fails to reposition Sleigh Bells as a noise act to be reckoned with, it does succeed in giving us a glimpse into what could have been if the duo had stayed the course. It may be a few years late, but it’s the best the band have sounded in quite some time, and it’s nice to have Sleigh Bells back where they belong.

Low prove once again they are the sweet antithesis of that: a band who have had decades to hone their work within their own slow and deliberate pace and environment, making their most vital, forward-thinking music at an age where it can be utmost nurtured.

Suuns are a great band that just get a little too bogged down by their own lofty ambitions. As such, The Witness is a serviceable post-punk album, one that ends up as an interesting listen but with little to pull us back to it.

No Taste basically checks all the boxes of what makes punk rock still a righteous, thrilling starting point for any young artist. It’s a record that frantically claws at the walls with concisely aimed fits of desperation, anger, scathing humor and gusto.

Where GREY Area was all about Chinese restaurants, squats, dark back alleys and illegal warehouse clubs, Sometimes I might be introvert is about office buildings, record shops, bedrooms and stage productions. It’s daring and conceptual, but lacks physicality, unity and focus.

It’s a considerable improvement over the absolute mess that was Love is Dead, at the very least, but they’ve taken a step a bit too far into their past to bounce back fully.

Headsoup demonstrates the band’s stylistic versatility and penchant for spontaneity and structure. It is every bit as representative of Goat’s aesthetic as their ‘official’ albums.

It’s this open-heartedness that shines through Any Shape You Take. There may be death, depression, heartbreak, sex, screams and swearing throughout, but they are momentary – what remains is De Souza’s tenderness and truthfulness.

With tighter editing – Different Kinds of Light can feel plodding in its ambitious length – on her third album, Bird should only continue to improve.

They’ve managed to pace their listeners through sonic wreckage while being a little more daring in doing so. Synths, chipmunked vocals, and R&B flair don’t suggest this is the future of hardcore, but these elements do indicate that the genre’s future is more encompassing, and it will have this record to thank.

There’s a lot to love about it. It’s a tad too long, and some of the talent is under-utilized, but Dessner and Vernon have created a worthwhile follow-up to their humble debut.

Bnny’s debut balances the calmness of the instrumentals and the emptiness conveyed in the lyrics.

All of it is minuscule and done in a minor setting, but it’s also meaningful. Tracks appear like brief sketches before dissipating into the air. It’s the low-key nature of this mixtape that makes Still Slipping Vol. 1 a compelling listen.

Where each song on Melodrama felt like rushing into the next room at a wild house party to discover a new scandal or hookup, each successive song on Solar Power feels like returning to the same yoga class day after day; there might be the odd new mantra or position, but there’s nothing truly revelatory.

Deep States does feel a bit all over the place, but what works for it (as it does for everything Liddiard has been involved with) is the overpowering confidence with which it is performed.

Aisles doesn’t take many risks, but perhaps that’s for the best. Over the past decade, Angel Olsen has proven herself a more-than-worthy voice in indie rock, and a fun little aside from her album output is something to welcome.

Infinite Granite feels less like an abandonment, and more like a new era – a rebirth that fans can either jump on or off for.

Their innate knack for pulling off whatever genre is thrown at them remains stronger than ever. It ticks all the boxes that fans would want for a Red Velvet album and has, naturally, great replay value.

Fans of the harsher tone and aesthetic may grumble at him leaving the sound of NEGRO behind, but it couldn’t be clearer that his nearly manic, uncontainable sense of creativity is not only still present, but is grasping further, sounding more expansive and less controlled than ever here. For those in a rut over the seemingly endless absence of Kendrick Lamar, you need look no further for boundlessly creative and irresistibly unique hip hop than GUMBO’!.

Intriguingly, in a game where we’re consistently told that remaining hungry is a necessity, the most enjoyable moments of King’s Disease II come when Nas is simply stating his satisfaction.

It’s a modest debut, and that’s the highest praise as O’Connell could ask for with an album this timid.

Pressure Machine proves a successful concept album for The Killers. ... The primary weakness of this album, however, relates to its uniform sound, where tracks bleed into each other. Regardless, this is a new evolution for the band who, this far into their career, have taken something of a left turn to create something that is lyrically and thematically captivating.

While shame is less ecstatic than its predecessor, it certainly doesn’t find the duo of Megan Markwick and Lily Somerville holding back – there are a multitude more complex and tangled feelings to be unknotted here.

Everything here sounds tighter than before, with an emphasis on riffs and melody, allowing the experimental tendencies of Liars to take a step back for a moment. As a result, The Apple Drop will likely be labeled their ‘pop’ album, and that’ll be a justified assessment.

Foxing are aware they’re alienating some fans, but that makes it the kind of evolution one should admire and value. And with Murphy’s melancholic poetry persisting as the band’s heavy heart and soul, the genre’s most polarizing band, whether you like it or not, has reached yet another new level of boldness and grandeur.

These nine songs will still speak to those willing to listen, speak of the arrogance of those claiming superiority, of the delusion of lovers and anger of those left by the wayside; of the loneliness of the mortally confused, and of the jealousy of those left behind.

It is perhaps her most approachable and her most celebratory, and a solid reminder of why she garnered our attention in the first place.

King Woman perfects the approaches outlined on Suffering here, constructing soundscapes that are gossamer and pummeling, sparse and layered, heavenly and apocalyptic.

It may demand time and focus, but for those interested in a hip hop album that seeks understanding rather than any immediate gratification, this is a quiet, restrained, and uniquely giving world.

Aesthetically, it may be polarizing compared to the hit factory that was her debut, but Happier Than Ever stands on its own as a powerfully flawed, overstuffed, but meaningful exploration of what it’s like to live as both a teenager and a superstar in ways that none before her felt comfortable saying.

Animal is a beast worthy of its own spotlight and attentions. The genre-crossing is much less surface level, as the duo creates grander and grander platforms for Marling’s commanding voice. The whole thing is far more theatrical, full of slow building ballads and cresting climaxes.

She’s carrying the weight of her experiences on her shoulders, but that’s not stopping her from enjoying the thrill of a new crush. She’s confident enough in herself to make the most of this, and every, moment.

Life, and Another expands her palette tenfold with different hues and tones that would typically go unnoticed on an experimental record. The result is her most engaging work yet.

It’s taking what is inherently a complex form of music – and is still highly technical in the hands of these players – and makes it into something for all to enjoy. It’s the kind of album that ‘purists’ will possibly scoff at for its accessibility and poptimism, but you get the feeling that Thackray wouldn’t want them as fans anyway. All she wants from her listeners are open ears, open hearts and open minds.

Change seems more concerned with how the music impacts on a subliminal level than how it actually ends up sounding. Without those inner blemishes out on full display, that magnanimous intent could only go so far.

Spiral is an album to experience as a whole, to be swallowed in and transported by.

Despite the label hopping, the independent releases, the decade of time spent away, Wavves still hasn’t changed much.

Taste of Love is one of TWICE’s most cohesive and dazzling albums thus far. It’s fun, mature and makes a great contribution to our current pop-sphere with its retro-sonic aesthetics and escapist feel.

I ultimately feel that the original version, in all its hypnagogic glory, retains a certain charm as an unstreamable lo-fi curio. By removing all elements save voice and organ, we have what is essentially a different album. Whether it’s better or not, another Alice Coltrane album is nothing less than a gift.

This is a delicately sincere and softly stark album, and arguably Fretwell’s best. It’s certainly his most intimate, but after all that time away, he’s no doubt figured out exactly how he wanted to say what he wants to.

They’re still just about playing the game the same way, but with Hologram the trio sounds a bit more chipper than usual, which adds some flair that was noticeably absent for most of their 2010s output.

Sling may not offer many universal rallying cries or rousing choruses from artists that break through in similar fashion as Clairo. But it does compel you to lean in and listen a bit more closely to what Claire Cottrill has orbiting around her inquisitive mind. Sling is an intimate, tender heart-to-heart where muted confessions finally have their day.

Devoid of meaty pop nuggets, Mythopoetics sounds like an unstable wormhole that travels from 2020’s critically-lauded The Caretaker to wherever the heck the Half Waif project lands next.

Vince Staples is certainly not an easy album to tap into, nor a particularly fun one, but for those interested in a piece of art in which the barrier between the creator and onlooker is veritably nonexistent, to the point of shared claustrophobia, look no further. ... Staples’ scars have never been more visible: he’s practically put them on display for the world at large. If that’s not bravery, I don’t know what is.

This tendency that Williams has of interweaving her inner emotional climate with the breathable aura of nature was on magical display through last year’s debut album, I Was Born Swimming, and it’s something she hones further here.

For a genre replete with posturing, it’s beyond refreshing to receive an album that so readily wears its heart on its sleeve, especially from a band so esteemed: with so much to potentially lose. Modest Mouse have made gains simply by being themselves. This is comfort food for the well-worn soul.

It’s rare for an artist to be so bold and blatantly fighting their fears on a debut album, but Lady Dan’s bravery is what gives extra life and depth to her songs.

A Color of the Sky is now a beautiful summer record, perfect for consumption during long-awaited family reunions and Saturday brunches.

Home Video is undeniably a Lucy Dacus album; one that’s a reflection of not only the rise of her star but of the ever-growing liberation that comes with emotional vulnerability.

While the album doesn’t colour outside the lines as much as previous efforts (though the chuggy, restrained grunge wash on “Cheers” is a welcome outwards venture), that’s no bad moment here.

This is rager music, the fun and frantic rock anthems that the weirdos and the geeks who have grown into successful entrepreneurs and innovators can dance to while the quarterback from their high school bags their groceries.

Fatigue, for all its many-sided intrigue and snatches of moving beauty, can be a bit like driving by a series of natural wonders at 150mph – too fast to truly appreciate what’s there. There’s a purposely otherworldly vibe to these 29 minutes, but the moments when Cheek the artist is most nakedly visible in the constellation are when Fatigue feels most successful.

Call Me If You Get Lost finds Tyler freer than he was on IGOR. He’s managed to combine talents in front of and behind the mic, while amalgamating the serious personalities he used prior with the humor that trademarked his early work. He’s displaying lessons learned here.

Maybe not every song here is as fully-realized as her best material, and maybe there are a few too many slow-moving ballads – but this doesn’t lessen just how delightful Planet Her ends up as a whole. It’s the type of pop album there should be more of: both playful and psychedelic, rich in intelligent production, and filled with charismatic and chameleonic performances.