The Soft Struggles is the antidote to this car crash of a decade so far.

Kudos for trying to expand a tried and tested formula, but a lot of La La Land sounds like dozens of fragments of tunes crazy glued together in a hurry.

New York City, then, captures all the grit and grime you’d want from The Men, but comes up short compared to their transcendent, melodic best.

Hypnotic, heartfelt, and cement-heavy, Land of Sleeper continues Pigs x7’s onward march to growling metallic glory.

Ultimately, Pollen keeps one foot planted in Tennis’ signature style and the other in a more innovative future, serving as a reminder of the untapped potential Tennis still has when it fully commits to bolder sonic diversification.

Girl in the Half Pearl picks up where her debut album left off, taking it sonically farther and thematically further. The result is an album that is dynamic and layered, often in flux and always exuding personality.

This Stupid World is an album that both confronts and ameliorates its fears. It deals in both luxury and sparsity, weaving both into a heartwarming whole. It’s a remarkable feat for a band this far down the road to create something that feels like a potential classic, both timely and timeless, a record that pushes the edges of darkness, all the while offering a reassuring light.

The storytelling is tight and riveting as ever, each song serving the greater narrative in its unique way. The same can be said for the musical performances (all done by Shauf).

Paul infuses these portraits with poetic, often solitary, grace, manifesting her resilience in searing, distorted guitar textures and her longing in wounded, doleful melodies.

This Is Why, like After Laughter, suffers slightly from front-loading imbalance. The back half of the album feels tonally different from the front, more personal and relational and coming closer to their pop punk roots. It’s all well executed, however, and offers a glimpse into the ways we’ve all had to deal with the universal and the particular simultaneously in these last few years.

An instant classic? Remains to be seen. Unforgettable? Perhaps. An album with flashes of pure rock and roll splendor from a band that’s super talented and not afraid to take chances? Absolutely!

A dark, sophisticated album from an artist who continues to produce thoughtful, enthralling music of depth and beauty.

Angel Numbers is a timeless record that combines beauty, joy, and sublime observations.

We’ve had plenty of music in recent years that reckons with global and personal heaviness and offers comfort or therapeutic release or reassurance. On Heavy Heavy, Young Fathers render it all powerless, the darkness just a blank canvas on which every burst of light and hope becomes all the more brilliant.

There’s a rawness to Every Acre that is understated and reverent, from the measured poetry of its lyrics to the unhurried, solemn attitude of each of its songs.

It’s a remarkably sure-footed, brilliantly confident record and one that condenses the greatness of Fucked Up into a bite size treat. It’s a welcome, exhilarating release that, even in its darker moments, manages to uplift and inspire.

Honey feels uniquely her own, not only for its diaristic vignettes but also for Samia’s stronger songwriting voice and expansive sonic blend. Taken together, the record paints an affecting picture of a promising young talent, one capable of effortlessly blending genuinely creative textures and lyrical gems with the striking allure of pop music.

Gigi’s Recovery at times feels eerie and unsettling yet consistently and completely alluring.

In Cale’s eightieth year, Mercy reiterates his ever-evolving dedication to high strangeness and musical exploration, and while it never even approaches being an easy listen, it is certainly a compelling, rewarding ride.

It’s a beautiful, hand made collection of natural and unforced songs to be treasured.

Though the one-liners are at times a bit more fun, the emotions Maries explores in this collection remind us that practicing self-awareness and presence is truly the best way out of the time warp.

Late Developers is a gem.

On the album’s closing track, “Landfill,” Price sings, “They say ‘it takes time to become timeless’/But time is all I’ve got this time.” Every bit of Strays—the excellence in lyricism, instantly classic riffs, the soul-bearing warmth Price exudes—is a testament to that and to the fact that our need to see each other wholly, empathetically is of eternal importance.

This is album #20 for Iggy Pop and it’s as good as almost anything he’s done in the last 50 years.

For much of the album, Stormzy hardly lifts his voice above a whisper, like he’s slipping us a note under the door. Sometimes this exercise in solemnity and sincerity doesn’t quite land emotionally. ... Elsewhere, Stormzy truly expresses the liberating power of earnest prayer by choosing to speak from personal pain rather than religious catchphrase, like on “Please”.

Alpha Zulu proves that while they may play with novel sounds and textures, Phoenix are in no danger of losing their melodic instincts and effortless indie-pop sensibilities.

To some, their experimentalism may verge on grating and their pessimism may become tired, but Sorry’s sophomore effort proves that the band’s got dynamism and ambition, and plenty of it.

Hakim has a knack for crafting songs that burn slowly and steadily, and while they lack the depth and development needed to reach a full fire on COMETA, fans of Hakim’s previous work may still find the gentle glow of his latest effort enjoyable.