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.

As a genre-defying work, When No Birds Sing is the perfect middle ground for two bands who relentlessly battle against the lazy pigeonholing of scenesters and critics.

You can't help but wish he'd leaned into the dive bar clatter and freewheeling wildness that always feels just at the periphery of his music. As it is, And the Wind acts as a solid addition to your deep-summer-backyard-beer-drinking soundtrack — sometimes that's all you need.

It's tremendously long, offering remixes of old material and recapitulating many typical Vile motifs. While slyly daring in extremely subtle ways, a large portion (of an almost hour-long EP, I might remind you!) feels somewhat superfluous to his more grounded catalogue.

Lyrically, Brown is still one of the best we have. .... Charismatic guests like Bruiser Wolf, Overall and MIKE manage to make their respective marks without taking up too much space — This is Brown's story.

Expanding upon its predecessor, The Complete Budokan 1978 is an immersive treasure trove that brings us into the storied space for two nights with Bob Dylan. He was a bit restless, heartbroken and perhaps even a little angry, and that got him searching for new muses and new sounds.

Desolation's Flower is a good record that flirts with greatness. It's unlikely to convert any non-believers, awash in great swells of feeling and excellent songs that, admittedly, are sometimes constricted by a lack of space and breathing room. But the good that is there, roiling and thrashing in the depths, is well worth seeking.

The Ice Spice collab "Boy's a liar Pt. 2" is perhaps inevitably tacked onto the end of Heaven knows. It's a bit of a self-own, as it easily outshines the rest of the album despite being far simpler in every way. PinkPantheress has become an expert pop craftswoman — but the stripped-down magic of "Boy's a liar Pt. 2" reminds listeners that incredible hooks outweigh intricate production every time.

Sure, the usual country tropes appear in the form of drinking whiskey, diminishing horizon lines and the "devil [who] don't give a damn" — but Stapleton has long cracked the code of authenticity. Country isn't for everyone, but Chris Stapleton should be.

Cat Power Sings Dylan: The 1966 Royal Albert Hall Concert does exactly what it says on the tin, but in the process adds another story to Dylan's tower of song, and showcases Marshall as devotee, student and messenger.

In shearing off that thorniness, Drop Nineteens have returned as a highly competent, often lovely, and perhaps less interesting version of themselves.

While not as immediately trance-inducing as their debut, The Twits finds the band in a newly roiling, bellicose state of transformation.

Taken as a bit of a lark, Skye's I<3UQTINVU exists as a bag of mostly disposable — but exciting! — what ifs. Without the grounded warmth of Ellery's songwriting, the album has the perhaps unintended effect of sending us back to the originals to appreciate the duo's more controlled creative alchemy.

Ultimately, these are celebration songs, compelling the listener to look forward, put matters into their own hands and create something good while they can.

Simultaneously modern and nostalgic, a hard rocking band that you can lose yourself in, Hotline TNT have made a record that defies time and space.

It's still a bit distant and aloof — and ultimately too tame for its own good — but Chronicles of a Diamond finds the band heading in more interesting directions. It is, in every sense of the word, a vibe.

Thankfully The Silver Cord's hits overpower its misses, and disco battle epic "Set" strikes with a punch, adding another track to the short yet mighty list of King Gizzard songs to play in the club.

Perhaps it's just the associative properties, but it feels like Jenny from Thebes manages to truly distill the manic energy of the Mountain Goats' formative phase into a maturing yet vital shape, giving it a place in the upper reaches of their pantheon.

While the band has always been a rock-first concern, the core of God Games is in its mature, layered and emotive downtempo pop balladry.

Whether or not this search is of genuine desire or some gesture toward a gaudy ecclesiastic aesthetic, Hayter's most recent attempt at salvation manifests in arguably the most afflicted and disconcerting peak into her head and heart yet.

Hackney Diamonds may not go down as an iconic Stones LP, but this late in the game it's basically a triumph by nearly every measure.

On ONE MORE TIME…, blink-182 don't always hit that sweet spot, but when they do, it feels earned.

Javelin finds Stevens at his most vulnerable, yes, but like Carrie & Lowell, he paradoxically hides behind a wall of references and metaphor (many of which I'm sure are biblical in nature, discreetly whizzing past my woefully secular ears). Now posited in plainer language than ever before, he makes its cipher even more challenging to crack. That's what makes these records so healing to their audiences, though: the universality.

More than anything, the pair [James Chapman and Emma Anderson] effectively manage to touch on all the details that fans of Anderson and Lush might hope to hear without pandering or retreading old ground too heavily.

Some of It Was True finds the Menzingers growing up, not too fast and not too slow.

Ghostly, graceful and deceptively deep, Goodnight Summerland establishes Deland's concise power as a songwriter. As her artistry continues to evolve, it's clear that there's more than one way for her to tell her trademark stories of the infinite worlds within our own.

There's rarely a moment on Jonny that feels regressive — for the first time since the Drums' debut 13 years ago, Pierce has mastered a way to bare both his chops and his emotions.

Music about climate disaster usually feels somewhat dogmatic and thematically grandiose. But on Tomorrow's Fire, Ella Williams of Squirrel Flower takes the wide scale of the apocalypse and taps into its most intimate and personal corners.