Ultimately, one hand’s intimate song cycle provides for one of the most off center, but utterly compelling listens of the year. That you can read through the lyric sheet without listening along and still come away with a strong sense of Levy’s talents as a writer is an added bonus.

As art begets art, A Beginner’s Mind is both truly inspirational and a testament to what can come out of work-shopping with A-list performers.

The album ends up feeling more like a patchwork of ideas than anything, resembling a puzzle with all of its pieces scattered. In a way, it’s the album’s greatest strength and its biggest downfall. Parker and Ritchie let us in to inspect their psychological state across 11 tracks, providing a sonic amalgam of their lives in these uncertain times, but the real question is whether or not the end result gives us enough room to truly explore.

Like any good work of indie folk, González’s voice and guitar blend together as one, creating a uniquely placid experience. It’s sleepy, acoustically sound, and definitely worthy of its place in González’s already impressive catalogue.

Overall, the frothy melodies, spiraling guitar riffs, and catchy refrains of this newfound aesthetic suits the band well and make Enjoy the View one of the year’s more stimulating aural experiences.

So, whilst it may not boast songs that stick with you for months in the way that Eilish’s first does, Happier Than Ever feels like a project that will age more gracefully and, in years to come, it may even come to eclipse that which came before it.

Definitive in its execution and unrivaled by any of the group’s contemporaries, it’s a masterful exercise in experimentation and one that reveals something new with every subsequent listen.

Although the album marks itself by themes of love and growth, it does seem torn between committing to a softer side or being rambunctious. However, there can be a perfect duality when portraying that if done right, which Amyl and the Sniffers are getting closer to with each progressing release.

On HEY WHAT, Sparhawk and Parker, working again with producer BJ Burton, hone the sonic language they explored on Double Negative into a terrible swift sword that cuts like the Minnesota winter wind against the spectres that threaten their home.

While not necessarily new territory for the band, Texis offers much worth loving, and is not so much a step back, as it is, perhaps, an awkward stumble to one side. Clearly the duo have not yet abandoned the great hills from which they have been mining musical gold for over a decade.

While the record undoubtedly could be a comfort and companion for fans, most of all it was made for Diaz herself. Fortunately, Diaz’s chronicle of healing also makes for her most powerful record, a potent work of cherished folk beauty and open-hearted songwriting.

The balance of star-crossed is full of cringe-worthy lyrics and failed efforts to move further into pop (“good wife”) and dance (“what doesn’t kill me,” “breadwinner”) realms. Produced by the same team as Golden Hour (Daniel Tashian and Ian Fitchuk), it’s hard to assess how that album’s gossamer sheen, that enchantingly revealed subtle hooks and melodies, gave way to almost nothing that stands out.

While not groundbreaking, Into the Blue is innovative in approach and original in delivery and listeners will certainly find some edgy and cool post-punk to latch on to.

Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon’s pet project has become the musical equivalent of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. And unfortunately, barring a few standouts, most of the guests add little spice to the proceedings, assuming they are even detectable at all.

All these connections Lorde is trying to make: her strange pastiche imagination of the ’70s, that random spoken word interlude by Robyn about climate change, and the themes of “sun healing,” never fully reach each other. Often, they come off as disingenuous and out of touch more than they read as brilliant, or comical. Whether the album is one big prank, or just one majorly failed experiment, the gist of having the “privilege to ignore” is lost in translation. All you are left with is just a handful of pretty alright songs.

De Souza charges through Any Shape with an intensity that grabs you by the throat, squeezing out every drop of your humanity.

Overall, Turnstile’s GLOW ON is solid proof that the band’s commitment to being consciously aware of how every song’s detail works out in their favor.

Whereas the original release added strings and synthesizer, this reissue takes off that accompaniment, leaving a spare, gorgeous, spiritual, and otherworldly feel perfect for deep, meditative listening or just relaxing.

This stirring portrait of small town existence in its twilight serves as a necessary metaphor, applicable to many of the major issues currently facing the nation. It is most certainly The Killers’ finest album since Battle Born, and successfully proves The Killers as visionary musicians who shall surely help to define “classic rock” for many generations to come.

Olsen makes the EP feel both familiar and brand new. The singer is keenly aware that the best cover versions are those where the artists put a distinctive spin on the song, rather than producing a straight facsimile of the original. Angel Olsen confidently accomplishes that with this thoroughly enjoyable EP.

This album is a riposte to the doubters as Deafheaven morphs once again, into quite possibly the best version of itself.

While Anika was gritty and prioritized each song having an individual identity, Change leans heavily into cohesion and repetition. There is the potential of overlap for listeners who like both, but it isn’t for everyone.

Whilst the album may lack the urgent politically infused rush of Brickbat, it’s a certainly a more considered affair and one that’s comfortable in its own skin. It’s a beautifully textured body of work that merges atonal guitars, spacey synth flourishes, and sophisticated bass lines with layered vocals and is clearly an album informed by the clarity of experience.

Foxing continues to outdo itself, and Draw Down the Moon is both its most focused and accomplished album yet.

Their latest is a decent entry into their quintessentially Canadian discography that casual listeners will tolerate and fans will like.

What this all amounts to is that All Things Must Pass, the expanded 50th anniversary reissue, is nothing less than essential. It takes one of the greatest works in popular music history (forgive me if you think this is hyperbole but let’s at least admit that if so, it’s only slight), and expounds upon its genius by exposing its creation.

Fans of ’70s soul will find a treasure chest in Get on Board the Soul Train (the first in a reissue series), but don’t sit on the opportunity: it’s limited to 2500 copies.

The record’s second half is a different sort of foggy, due to a baffling bit of sequencing where the miniature songs “Beagle in the Cloud” and “Adorable” alternate with the instrumental interludes “Darmok” and “Bull of Heaven.” Taken all together, the passage drags, and it’s hard not to think these songs would be better served as buffers between some of the longer tracks on the album. However, the pirouetting arpeggios that introduce “Obsidian Lizard” immediately correct course.