Lovesick Utopia is fairly lightweight and doesn’t grab the attention in the way that most of the other tracks do, and while Keep Moving is accompanied by a great video (co-produced by Wilson herself), it comes off as an imitation of a Jessie Ware track. These are minor complaints though, as the long period leading up to this record—not to mention the time afforded for additional audio work due to the coronavirus pandemic—means Wilson has had the space to hone her sound and deliver upon the potential her earlier releases promised.

While much has been made of Jubilee being an album about joy—and in some ways, it is—the majority of the third Japanese Breakfast album captures a full breadth of emotions. ... It’s on the back half of this album where things don’t click as strongly.

Though The Golden Casket shows Modest Mouse at their most accessible and tuneful, a creative shift that started with 2004's Good News For People Who Love Bad News, they return to some of the experimental aspects that defined so much of their early work.

Weighed down by its own concept and bloated with references, there’s just no room left for emotional reckoning. In the end, we’re better off seeing Daddy's Home as purely an homage to the rich ‘70s funk and psychedelic music scene from somebody who only experienced it secondhand. It’s simply unable to withstand the added complexity of the personal narrative that we were promised.

Sensational isn’t as good as its title suggests, but there’s plenty to enjoy, even if you’ll be tempted to look for the joins to see how it’s all been done. But still, don’t think about things too much, and you’ll be “lovin’ it, lovin’ it, lovin’ it.”

Considering the vast number of ideas they put forth here, they're still finding new ways to engage with their signature formula after all these years—easily one of their most robust since 2008's Version 2.0.

Roswell continues to grow as a versatile performer, channeling her pop impulses with gusto—whether she embraces Abba-esque harmonies with a country lilt (Safe from Heartbreak), brings bright, celestial touches to synthy mid-tempo ballads (How Can I Make it OK), or howls her way through speedy punk rock (Feeling Myself.) And though everything doesn't fall into place, she does inject her unique personality into whatever style she chooses.

Given how much effort twenty one pilots give into their presentation, it's genuinely surprising how uninteresting Scaled and Icy sounds on the surface. ... The music itself sounds so limiting and faceless.

It’s the ultimate sample platter for a band who defiantly refuses to meet your expectations, and for everything it lacks in consistency, it more than makes up for in offering a heart-bled moment that will burn bright for someone.

Sweep It Into Space obviously can’t rival that career high, but it is a leading candidate for their best post-reformation effort.

The whole thing mostly works, though, thanks to the generous application of a Blue Album power-pop filter. I Need Some of That channels The Cars (like much of Weezer’s finest work) and is the clear standout here, but there’s plenty more to raise a smile.

As madcap of a concept as ULTRAPOP appears to be, its musical thrust feels purposeful in its creation and curation.

The original was Etten taking tentative first steps to collaborate, while this album sees her pass on the songs completely. It’s a fitting legacy for an album that’s about moving on stronger, but not without forgetting about the heartache it took to get there.

After 35 minutes filled with one kinetic power-chord to the next with the littlest variation, Typhoons spreads itself too thin.

The trio seems more determined and passionate in how they concoct their witches' brew of ideas, knowingly aware of how the plot unfolds while convincing us that anything kept a secret doesn't matter. As oblique as their music has become, it uniquely makes sense to them.

World's Most Stressed Out Gardener went through several iterations:—a flute record, an electronic record, “a pile of garbage,” the album’s Bandcamp page says. Yet from these fractured origins came an intriguing album that comes together in unexpected ways. VanGaalen, like everyone else, is making the most of today’s mess.

Dry Cleaning have far more talent than they do irreverence. How satisfying, then, that where Miller was one and done, they’ve only just gotten started.

Timeless and treasurable.

At his best, Walsch’s lyricism threads the line between clichés and anecdotal details with ease. There are exceptions to this, as Hesitation captures the curdling of a long-distance relationship superbly. It might be his best set of lyrics. It’s a disappointment that it’s situated between a handful of bored, washed-out emo tunes that hold I Won’t Care How You Remember Me down.

Middle Kids haven't quite found a way to articulate their sudsy emotions with deft intention and control. But if you're looking for pristine pop that, admittedly, sounds really, really good, you can't go wrong with this pleasant diversion.

Portrayal of Guilt’s songs become so chaotic and overwhelming in their bipolar brutality that almost every song needs an ambient comedown to cool off, though even these are just as lurching and ominous as each riff is impeccably tight and terrifying.

While many of these ideas aren't particularly sexy, especially for artists who've recently turned forty, the band wisely keeps their grand, romantic gestures in check while making them thoughtful and relatable.

Goat Girl achieves a new clarity to their dense lyrical content when their murky antics turn more accessible.

His performances are impassioned, though sometimes slightly tedious, adding strings and keys over scruffy folk-rock. Ounsworth even alludes to his past brush of fame on CYHSY, 2005, though what we really get are broad, everyday depictions of the mundane.

It feels carefully tailored to a fault, making it practically impossible to find its flaws—especially if you find the interchangeable poetic sing-speak of Hard Drive endearing. Nevertheless, this is solipsism of the highest caliber: gentle, hypnotic, fastidious, but above all else, hard to resist.

For the first time is usually nonsensical, frequently transcendent, and compulsively listenable. Everything that sprung to mind is on the wax here, but BC, NR don’t forget to make it catchy and groovy. In nailing that balance, they’ve given us the year’s first capital-G Great record.

There's a hard-won maturity here that makes every single line of hers deeply felt, even if it also emphasizes the more cloying elements of her songwriting.

While the album isn’t quite the overhaul that quote makes it out to be, there are enough twists to catch longtime fans off guard. Even with eight albums to their name, The Hold Steady continue to prove that consistency doesn’t mean going stale.