De Facto is the work of musicians seeking something sonically and emotionally better and getting very close to the burning, white-hot center of it all. It's a challenging listen at times, but there's never a moment where the effort doesn't feel worth it and the rewards of digging deep into the sounds and songs are many.

While this set is not as immediate as their first two albums, Foolish Loving Spaces winds up being the one that is most rewarding after repeat listens, an enjoyable, nostalgic ode to pure affection. Coolness be damned.

Relatable and reinvigorated, the catchy and confessional Melanie C is not only a reboot for the artist's sound, but a rebirth for the icon herself.

Though not limited to romantic love, True Love is dedicated to relationships and fondness, resulting in the slowcore-descended duo's warmest collection to date. Also their richest-sounding.

Mallinder's vocal style on this album is far removed from the unhinged paranoia of early CV, sounding much more reserved and shadowy but not vulnerable. This suits the music perfectly, as the rhythms energetically unfold without reaching any sort of climax but are too busy and engaging to recede into the background.

This is Sherwood's album more than Andy's, experimenting wildly with his dub mixes with all the abandon of an excitable kid at recess. This willingness to go off the deep end makes Midnight Scorchers an enjoyable ride, but it's not quite the essential listen that the original album was.

It's a shame the Ducks didn't have the chance to mature and cut a studio album, because they clearly had talent and potential to spare, but there's no shame in being a truly great bar band, and High Flyin' shows the Ducks were something special for just three bucks.

Road is primarily killer and only a little bit of filler, with Alice tapping into the power he harnessed in his younger days to create a surprisingly inspired collection of new material.

The group's reputation as London's craziest live act is not overexaggerated -- the fact that they've managed to capture that energy on record is exhilarating. They've bottled the spirit of chaos that has been haunting the masses in these uncertain times, catalyzing it into something that can be collectively expunged.

It seems this was collected from material recorded over the space of several years. But Wynn was right to hold on to this stuff, as these ten tracks cohere into a very pleasing album.

Some of the ideas on The Fateful Symmetry seem a bit mismatched, and not all of the songs really work, but it does have its poignant moments.

With a couple of exceptions, basically just the reggae and hip-hop songs, Buddhist Hipsters comes closest to recapturing the vibe of the Orb's prime work from the '90s than anything they've done in a while, making it one of their best efforts since Thomas Fehlmann left the group in 2017.

No Shouts, No Calls might be some of Electrelane's most accessible work, but it's far from safe; in fact, its sweet vulnerability is exactly what makes it so special.

It displays both crypticness and honesty, intellectualism and vulgarity in equal measure, challenging and placating its audience in the same drawn-out, undefined, nasally breath.

While Continue as a Guest may not have the immediacy of career standouts like Twin Cinema or even Brill Bruisers, it succeeds more subtly on its own terms and begs for repeated listens.

The singer confesses to being "a neurotic mess" in the opening "Amöban," and there's sorrow in the purposefully ragged "Kenneth," but letting go, living it up, and delighting in overindulgence win out thematically across the album. The best of the lot might be "Frisco," a discreet declaration of liberation that with equal ease could be transformed into an acoustic jazz ballad or a storming house anthem.

Credit him and songwriting partners Daryl Simmons and Kameron Glasper, along with hall of fame-level session musicians like Nathan East and Greg Phillinganes, for ignoring the increasingly narrow sound of commercial R&B. They've done so with a satisfying album that sounds as if its organic making necessitated little exertion.

Those who weren't so sure about the Bowerbirds before might change their tune with this release--Upper Air is a luminous, wild-eyed affair, and a solid second album to boot.

Without losing any of the energetic fizz of their youth, Swearin' look honestly at their lives moving forward, arriving somewhere vulnerable yet impressively more confident than before.

It adds up to Allman's best and surely most focused and cohesive solo release, and one where the template can hopefully be repeated in less time than it took this to appear.

Emotionally, Act Surprised feels just like Sebadoh, but if you ever wished they'd make an album that would sound big, loud, and suitable for blasting on your car stereo, this is a sure step in that direction.

The EP feels like a great extension of Julia with Blue Jeans On, and one can't help but wonder what phase Krug will develop toward with the next Moonface installment as he moves from one place to the next.

Like Going Back Home before it, As Long as I Have You benefits from Daltrey's diminished range, as it adds gravity and grit to his interpretation. This album also benefits from its tight backing band, which is graced with a swinging horn section but distinguished by Townshend playing a secondary, sympathetic role to Daltrey, helping to give this muscular, occasionally moving record an air of grace.

Ocean Child is a fitting tribute to an artist who's challenged herself and her audiences for the entirety of a lifelong career, and inspired entire sects of music in the process.

While it is a meditation on Christmas, it makes no attempt to manipulate the listener's feelings. Instead, with its sheer musical quality, and the depth of tenderness and empathy in Thorn's voice, it highlights the season's complexities in the face of everyday life.

Produced by Tonra and bandmate Igor Haefeli, Stereo Mind Game is an album that sounds like it was assembled with care, as Daughter change things up while remaining instantly familiar.

Though the environment that birthed the appropriately titled Gossamer may be a bummer, the end product is winningly majestic as it is obviously spun by the most malevolent of spiders.

Melancholy has always been Wareham's default musical disposition, here he delivers his sadness with a coy, charming half-smile.