As Arrow progresses, we get a clearer sense of how she's beginning to understand what she seeks. And though we're never exactly sure what it is, her music leads us to a full conclusion.

Jennings appears on the album’s penultimate track, the fine Hurts So Bad, where his harmonies pop out of an average song. It’s one of the few moments on Wyatt’s album where her usually honest writing feels more cliche than distinct. Jennings’ harmonies are fine, but it feels like the tune easily could've been cut. Still, this album’s got plenty of superb moments.

Kehlani replaces any hint of controlled pop presence with a lowkey, gloomy vibe that doesn’t suit her strengths at all. Her raspy voice is now placed upon liquid synth bass and irritating trap production, leaving her songwriting to be the record’s only strength.

Recorded by Steve Albini, the Shellac’ish touches of The Mine, the sturdy Wet Concrete, and the album’s finale, Terms of Visitation, provide plenty for listeners to enjoy. But, Antarctica, itself a seldom-visited location, is rife with ground that’s already been well-traveled.

Owen makes it look easy with her articulate songwriting—and though taking many cues from The National's Aaron Dessner (who produced the album) in sonic terms, she deftly controls her somber arrangements with a depth that is wise beyond her years.

She's a vibrant presence on Anywayz and How Did You Know, pushing her operatic vocals over soaring, anthemic choruses. But that's not enough to save an album that, despite sounding so busy and hectic, fails to generate much excitement—even if Stelmanis' emotional downward spiral is compelling in the lyrical sense.

On Sideways to New Italy, the five-piece continues their solid methodology of songcraft, even if it may feel a little stale by the album’s end. It’s the cream of the crop when it comes to modern reverbed-out jangle pop, but there’s really only so much one can take when it comes to this midtempo playlist-rock.

Goons Be Gone won’t go down as No Age’s best, but it benefits from its directness.

There may be some subtle shifts here and there, but overall, The Prettiest Curse revels in the simple pleasures of big hooks, chunky chord changes, and sing-a-long melodies.

Sports Team does have the tunes to match their swagger, and having a sense of humor certainly doesn't hurt.

Græ is a textural wonder, with soft electric guitars, Sumney’s beautiful voice, and glittering synths making up most of the album’s heavenly sounding songs.

These are tracks that are built for individual consumption across a myriad of online platforms, so the composition of the album perhaps lessens in importance. Nevertheless, a couple more from the darker end like Free Woman' and Replay would achieve a bit more of the blend I suspect she was going for. Chromatica has its moments, but it isn't an album to play on repeat.

NO DREAM carries the listener comfortably through Rosenstock’s entire wheelhouse, leaving no genre unturned

Woods consciously goes for simplicity, not depth. The musicianship complements that goal appropriately on Strange to Explain, an album that hazily focuses on themes of dreams and sleep. The wah-wah guitars, Mellotron, and gentle, upbeat drums match the laconic subject matter to relaxing and pleasant, if forgettable, effect, sort of like a dream.

Set My Heart on Fire Immediately isn’t a perfect album. There are a couple of wormholes that Hadreas gets lost down and the sequencing causes a slightly jilted second half, but once these songs nestle in, they’re impossible to shift.

At 41 minutes, this album covers every type of song Isbell does best; from tight rockers to disappointed country tunes, Reunions hits the spot.

Despite its sizable number of tracks, Quickies does move along at a brisk pace—even if its scattershot sequencing makes it better to digest as the five 7 inch-EPs presented in the physical version.

Very rarely, this album finds a moment of excitement. And when they do, you have to savor them, because you aren’t going to get another one for a while.

It’s another intriguing entry into the Charli XCX canon, even if it does feel like more of a stopgap than anything. But hey, right now, that’s okay too.

Small quibbles notwithstanding, Future Nostalgia is the perfect antidote to quarantine-induced cabin fever.

Petals for Armor succeeds best at sustaining a mood throughout, capturing the chaotic ups and downs of depression. Some moments are sugary sweet, while others are biting and angry, but the album keeps things healthy by switching between infectious pop tunes and mellow art-pop parts.

Lindén had some false starts in trying to realize her true vision with Warnings, and it shows—the effort she went through to craft a sound this painstakingly meticulous requires time and patience. And though we know how far she and Balck can push themselves, we're still not quite sure who exactly they want to be.

Ultimately, the project is still a little lightweight, if not a solid effort.

Its searing synths and chopped vocals can feel unjustified as a whole, but the songcraft is strong and the style supports some of its best moments.

While there are moments with more levity, Marling casts this world with a haunting backdrop of striking stories and superb instrumentation. It’s the rare album where a stripped-down approach entirely works, making these tales central and unmissable in their telling.

On their latest album, The New Abnormal, The Strokes have mirrored the career of Beck, offering a mimetic approximation of music they think people want, instead of music generated from their raw, inner demons or whatever fueled them on Is This It.

For music that's this visceral, every heart-rending confession can feel like a victory lap—but even the best runners have to take a breather to renew their energy.

Overall, Silver Landings finds Moore regaining her footing.