Harris takes a minimalist approach on Grid of Points, but she imbues it with so much feeling that it could never be called slight.

Regardless of whether or not the band lost whatever career momentum their debut generated, as a piece of music, Three Fact Fader fully delivers on the promise that was left hanging in the air for so long.

Palpable big beat electrifies Call Me Sylvia, but Low Cut Connie aren't only about sound--they're crack songwriters, bashing out big hooks and riffs in songs that are sharp, clever, and funny without succumbing to cutesiness.

She's clearly making her own way, unafraid to knock suitors down a couple pegs ("How That Taste"), allowing her vulnerability to shine through ("You Should Be Here"), and affirming her individuality.

Surrounded is so overflowing with life that it demands repeated spins to truly take it all in. With songs this strong, however, repeat listening is hardly a problem.

All of Widowspeak's experience feels channeled into The Jacket's poetic, poignant songs, and after more than a decade together, they're continuing to build one of the quietly great discographies of the 2010s and 2020s.

The overall downplaying of Camp Cope's more emo tendencies plays like a natural occurrence as they age into this satisfying new phase.

With its raw edges and open ends, No Home Record exposes the deepest levels of Gordon's art, and they're more thought-provoking and bracing than ever.

A Rush of Blood to the Head might not instantly grab listeners, but it's not tailored that way. It pushes you to look beyond dreamy vocals for a musical inner core.

A dark, turbulent, and welcome entry in Walker's catalog.

Without drawing undo attention to himself, Darnielle has been moving from strength to strength as one of indie rock's most vital and original talents, and Dark in Here demonstrates he's working at the top of his game and it's a joy to hear.

Warp & Weft displays Veirs' sophisticated songcraft (though "America" falls short for its obviousness) is adorned by diverse textures, expert musicianship, and a generous use of space; it's almost almost perfectly balanced.

Mystery Glue isn't an album about aging gracefully so much as aging right, and this is just about perfect for a 64-year-old Graham Parker, a proud survivor who lives to gripe another day, putting him far ahead of plenty of his peers.

While Carry the Ghost is a sullen work, with lyrics that deal head-on with reality, and processing rather than wallowing, Gundersen hits a beautifully wistful sweet spot in tone both lyrically and musically.

In its own way, Thank Your Lucky Stars is just as rewarding as Depression Cherry, and arguably more immediate. Instead of releasing another mammoth effort like Bloom, they've delivered two smaller-scale triumphs that can be appreciated separately or together.

On the whole, while its more serious tone may disappoint some fans of Half the City, Sea of Noise's performances are just as tight and as passionate, and even more impressive in their maturity and scope.

This band is still crazy after all these years, and on Sixth House, they make their special madness signify, and it's a genuine achievement.

This is a collection of songs that focus on his introspective side, and he can ponder a dark night of the soul or the mistakes he made long enough ago to make the failings obvious with a literacy and unflinching honesty that makes this one of the most affecting albums of his career.

On Stay Gold, Walker falls into the latter camp, but if these songs lack a certain spontaneity, the craft is strong and Walker seems so eager to sound like a rock star that you just might mistake him for the real thing.

There's nothing bad about taking such a big swing; it's definitely better than pulling your punches at this point in your career. As with much of Never Not Together, it's beautifully thoughtful and fantastically ambitious.

Van Etten isn't wallowing in melancholy, she's accepting the sadness along with the joy, using both emotions to push into a new stage of life. That sense of optimism, no matter how muted it may sometimes be, gives We've Been Going About This All Wrong an air of unguarded hope.

Lana Del Rey has honed a style so unique she’s almost a genre unto herself. Full of brilliant strides forward, Ocean Blvd. is a crucial chapter in Del Rey’s ongoing saga of heartbreak and enchantment.

There are moments of pop pleasure here, surrounded by spare, languid electronica sections, vaguely reminiscent of the High Llamas.

The band is making the finest music in the history of its collective.

Where The Great Eastern was a fairly gentle and tentative record in a lot of ways, this one is bigger and demands your attention. The good news is that it's one of those rare records that actually deserves all of the attention it demands.

Carl Newman deserves every last bit of praise thrown his way. In a better world, he would be our Elton, our Todd, our McCartney, and Slow Wonder would be on everyone's iPod, rotating on M2 hourly, and his name would be on the lips of everyone from aged Royalty to teen-aged girls.

Endless Falls' mix of old and new maintains Morgan's reputation as one of the most consistent, and consistently interesting, producers out there.

Cruise Your Illusion holds enough of the band's personality to keep them from being a '90s cover band, but at times, the weight of their ragged influences sits heavy enough on the songs to obscure their most original aspects.