Gordon has managed to create an album that pushes her legacy as an experimental force even further, another piece in a discography that refuses to be categorized. Rather than drift off quietly into the sunset, she might just be making the most interesting music of her career.

It’s fast, furious, funny, sad and above all real.

Smith is vague about where he lands on his quest for contentment, but Where’s My Utopia? manages the old trick of making the personal universal, while hanging on to the righteous fun that drew so many in in the first place.

Beyond the gooey saunters she’s become known for, she slows the tempo to near-standstills on multiple occasions, while likewise finding the most heart-racing BPMs of her career thus far. By virtue of this being a Faye Webster record, none of it feels jarring; it’s as intuitive as passing the time with someone you love.

“My Day Off” is an instant standout. .... Other songs on Still lack these creative frameworks and aren’t quite as successful in leaving an impression.

Lest this all start to sound like homework, Rooting for Love has a glossy surface layer that’s as seductive as any dance floor banger — even brainiacs need rapture from time to time.

If it weren’t for Hughes’s amusing weirdness (more Grimes than Carly Rae, more Misfits than Gem), there would be a risk of her identity getting lost in all the reverence here — and there are places where it still may — but the confidence and songwriting on display prove that Allie X-goes-‘80s is a strong enough concept to carry her for one album.

It’s a fittingly adult album from a pair who’ve long seemed stuck in a loop of playful immaturity — midlife sounds good on them.

Dspite its morbid title, Loss of Life contains some of MGMT’s most sincere and hopeful music.

It doesn’t just sound like wild west Americana — it feels that way, drawn from a life’s worth of experience and adoration of the genre. It’s the album that Segarra’s been building toward since they first picked up a guitar.

The record’s more direct first half may appeal to those who want their old school IDLES fix, but repeated listens to its rangier second half reveal an emotional complexity and sonic cohesion that have long escaped the band. Suddenly, there’s reason to be excited about where IDLES are headed.

GRIP is more than just a showcase for the return of Black queer spaces. It’s a celebration of the relationships — passionate, platonic, lasting, fleeting, loving, lustful — that these spaces foster.

While “Tacos and Toast” is a cozy, country delight about a relaxing Saturday that develops a sharper edge as it moves along, some of Hole in My Head’s more low key tunes fail to match even the too-slick immediacy of its louder rock songs. That said, the record’s showstopper is “Give Up the Ghost.”

Unlike their first and, let's be honest, irritatingly indulgent live recording, Sonic Death, Walls Have Ears presents Sonic Youth as resourceful, patient and secure in their esoteric songcraft.

With Weird Faith, Diaz manages to toe a wonderful narrative line, with all the excitement and trepidation of a new relationship perfectly captured. The deeper you get into the album, the more like you feel you’re living inside her head — it’s a journey worth taking.

This kind of underground indie pop, with its roots in DIY music like Orange Juice and the Feelies, always has a hardscrabble edge — but Ducks Ltd. find the cinematic grandeur in their scrappy ditties.

Warm and meditative, PHASOR’s softness is its greatest strength, extolling the virtues of patience, silence, touch and exploration. It’s a wonderfully complex album belied by its gentle minimalism.

The album, one of Wolfe’s best, is a powerful reminder that you are good enough, strong enough and brave enough to be mighty, authentic and free.

The extravagant and sensual Prelude to Ecstasy is their wine-stained toast to finding beauty in decadence, its cup runneth over with promise.

Between his riffy, arpeggiated acoustic strumming and the strongest vocal performance of his career, he cries out, grief-stricken, to hold on to life yet to be lived. With a record this strong so deep into his career, he’s definitely making the most of his own time.

These recurring themes of loneliness and confused love can grow repetitive, deployed in similar ways from song to song, but Sola is still able to keep the imagery fleshed out and distinctive.

This rejection (of prettiness, of palatability) is part of her mission statement, although moments from her catalogue where she allows herself to abandon it ever so slightly — "Don't Go Putting Wishes in My Head" from 2021's Thirstier — feel like the true window into the boundlessness of her artistry.

The music is as diverse as ever — from psych folk to hard rock to prog-jazz to post-punk to stoner metal ― but Segall’s songwriting feels streamlined and clear-eyed, a welcome respite from the storm that surrounds it.

There’s a delicacy to the way Kirby’s voice interplays with these vulnerable arrangements, especially on guitar ballads like the earnest “Party of the Century” (which Kirby co-wrote over FaceTime with ANTI- labelmate Christian Lee Hutson).

A great, often excellent effort containing at least a couple outstanding moments that see Future Islands really crystallize as its best self. There are some overly familiar moments and the album essentially offers more of the same, but it’s arguably their best work since Singles, the group’s still-reigning high-water mark.

Hazy slacker rock with catchy melodies and psych-y breakdowns, Melt the Honey is a warm, raw album that invites reflection without judgement.

Although there are still growing pains after almost 40 years, Green Day are back with a spiky, enthusiastic vengeance. And that's always a good thing.

While there is no shortage these days of songwriters railing against soured relationships, Hackman has finally made it out of her twenties with all her good intentions and bad decisions leaving marks on her heart. She's ready to turn those pages and tell her grown-up tales.