From the moment it starts to its very last note, Final Summer comes rich with gargantuan hooks that make you feel alive. His more hopeful outlook might have inspired this creative renaissance, but Baldi unintentionally emphasizes the simple pleasures of a rock song with an earnestness that shadows his complex songcraft.

Maybe it's less intimate and personal than his past releases, but Revelator sure goes down easy when it's most needed.

While her choices are clearly articulated, one can't help but feel like she's easing into a comforting cadence that will ultimately lead to her next definitive statement.

Their most accomplished statement thus far. Expanding far beyond their hardcore roots, Mannequin Pussy delivers shimmering alternative rock with more precision and less abandon.

One of the best debuts of the year.

It's not quite at the level of Without a Sound, Mascis' definitive pop moment, but What Do We Do Now is the closest he's been to showing his more tender side in years.

The duo balances every big statement with genuinely warmhearted moments. The piano-driven Until I'm With You Again is a good example, which serves as a preamble to the galloping sing-a-long anthem Get Numb to It! Is it precious? Sure is, but does it matter when they have full command of their craft?

If Thirstier was a declaration of love from the rooftops, What an Enormous Room is the relief of a serene evening in her partner’s arms.

Clocking in at a brisk 28 minutes, Harm's Way unfolds with not a minute wasted, similar to Weezer's Green Album. And while they couldn't be more far apart in tone and ambition, they're comparable in how they progress with limited dynamic range and a generous amount of hooks.

Fairweather Friend is a great record, a genre standout deserving of adoration and acclaim beyond the niche of specialist blogs and, let’s be honest, the No Ripcords of the world. Great songs are still great songs in 2024. If you like those, you’ll love The Umbrellas.

While Wall of Eyes captures the trio at their most musically freewheeling, it also loses the ordered potency of A Light for Attracting Attention. Yorke himself has also reverted to themes of self-identity more cryptically, making less of an impact compared to his sardonic candor identifying with the everyday anxieties of living in the outside world's structured chaos. Still, it's clear that The Smile operates on their own accord.

Saviors doesn't stray too far from what they've done in the past 10-15 years, but it's far more impassioned despite their pairing things down, proof that maintaining an agreeable middle ground with just enough anger suits them best.

While Link's observations are often engaging on the album, they can sometimes get lost in her sometimes-affected lethargy.

He rarely reveals much of his true intent throughout, relying upon platitudes that, while truthful, make Hadsel sound a little thin in places. But Condon knows his audience well, resorting to a heavily cinematic atmosphere that will have his listeners contemplating their own aspirations rather than focusing on his. Just like he intended to do.

It's the murkier-in-tone moments that stand out: while The Price Was High emerges with spellbinding dissonance and keeps the tension throughout, A Hitch surrounds its ringing hook with rippling guitar work. Tarantula is poised to become a staple on their future setlists alongside past singles like Winona, on which the band turns up the tempo with a driving melodic groove that satisfyingly fades as soon as it hits.

Even if Velasquez and Vidal haven't fully carved their identity as a new project, their savvy sense of songcraft hasn't waned after all these years.

The swinging electro-pop of Wild Times might sound out of place on a record like this, but when it's executed this infectiously, the change in mood is more than forgiven. Creevy sounds freer than ever, reclaiming her life amidst romantic entanglements that are equal parts vulnerable and resilient.

Already excellent work made better by careful rework and distinct (re)vision.

Through no fault of their own, some their more twangy performances don't sound too distinguishable from like-minded acts Wednesday and Big Thief. Bad timing, perhaps. But these quibbles don't detract from Ratboys' refined ebullience, glistening with an authenticity that sounds even better when you add the Chris Walla effect of making music sound irresistibly bittersweet.

An unfair degree of skepticism can surround a band like The Hives for firing in all cylinders well into their forties, but there's no denying their commitment and passion to staying in character on and off the stage.

It's the sweet simplicity that makes Cut Worms work so well in the absence of the character-driven stories that colored Nobody Lives Here Anymore. Trading them out for good old-fashioned love songs and playing to his strengths, Clarke has created another enjoyable Cut Worms album and one that is worth repeated listens.

Fans of cult art punks The Embarrassment, rejoice! They mostly revel in the more cutting side of post-punk, but there's a sweetness that balances the sharper notes.

Dark and sonically cavernous, Marshall's fourth release as King Krule fills the innermost spaces of his soul with glacial rhythms that vacillate with tension and release.

That’s not to say Girl With Fish is an exclusively positive, agreeable record, though: “Steamroller, you fuck like you’re eating” is how Slocum opens the record’s best song, cutting through a maze of noise with a lackadaisical demeanor. It’s this balance that cues Feeble Little Horse up to be one of the biggest bands working in indie rock right now, especially if they keep making records as good as this one.

The album mostly screams avant-garde in its minimalism, sometimes to its detriment, but there's no denying they have the talent to justify the mystery they've built.

Their enthusiasm truly does show. And with tracks as catchy as these, it's pretty clear that the brothers have done their homework through the years and then some.

ATUM is more sonically consistent than 1995's opus Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. ... Corgan somehow achieved the impossible: a genuinely likable, odd, and even inclusive album that sounds like nothing else in 2023.

She takes some swings on Losing and Smog, but somehow, they don't end up distinguishing themselves too much compared to the songwriters of her generation. Still, Indigo's genuine frankness and distinctive vocals perfectly convey her vulnerable performances.