With its highly developed songwriting, excellent vocal performances, and rootsy production style that support and showcase both albums, Can't Take My Story Away is a career-defining album.

The hollow-eyed confessions of childhood trauma on "Gina" and empty consumption on "The Unwrap" make it clear Sleaford Mods are still masters of bleakness, but it feels less like Fearn and Williamson are fighting their battles alone. They broaden their horizons on "Flood the Zone," joining forces with Liam Bailey.

Simply put, Tragic Magic is an affecting, powerfully gentle testament to the alchemy that comes from sharing the burdens -- and opportunities -- of hard times with love and creativity.

On Off the Fence, Hunter's crew display their richest stylistic and rhythmic varieties to date in songs that stimulate the body and resonate in the heart.

This is a solid showing from two still-prolific artists, and while none of it is as momentous as duo classics like "N.Y. State of Mind," "I Gave You Power," or "Nas Is Like," it's substantive comfort listening in the form of highly distilled boom bap.

Keeping the industrial tradition alive in 2025, CONFLICT DLC is another satisfying effort from the Los Angeles trio.

The release is a set of moody trap numbers with sharp beats and stark lyrics about hustling and street life. He also spends time roasting online haters and addressing Internet drama.

Dry Cleaning sound more expansive and present than ever on Secret Love, transcending their role as sprechgesang post-punk standard-bearers to become innovators whose surreal, poetic expressions of emotion reveal hearts as open as their eyes.

For their second LP, they've boosted their pop-psych influences, adding to the atmospherics of this music without slipping into silliness, especially on the trippy coda "Gonna Catch You." And the strength of Bill Schalda's songwriting continues to impress here.

A stellar effort from both producers, Implosion pushes ambient dub to the limit.

The trailblazing Gothic doom group's 17th long-player, Ascension, builds on the gloomy architecture of 2020’s Obsidian, delivering muscular, melancholic melodeath-doom infused with subtle electronic flourishes and lyrics rooted in the cold certainty of mortality.

Who Waters the Wilting Giving Tree... is a nonstop flow of stunning ideas and performances, without ever getting so heady that the fun and strangeness become alienating.

White doesn't aim for emotional grandiosity on Inner Day, but uses the album as a place to collect some spare instrumental musings and let them float around before one idea fades into the next.

Though colored by tragedy, on Lightning Might Strike Hatfield's songs are as ringingly melodic as ever; a sound that's only grown more indelible.

Holo Boy may not be as much of a statement as Box for Buddy, Box for Star, but its charms are undeniable.

The two lengthy "Sparrow" pieces in the middle of the album are patient meditations that break away from the busier pace of the "Evensong"s. .... The fourth and final part of "Evensong" is earthy and joyous, sounding like a roomful of musicians dancing together and celebrating life, though it appears to be created by a multi-tracked Ellis alone. Ellis' work is perpetually filled with hope, always finding a way through.

Memento Mori: Mexico City is one of the stronger live sets in their discography since Devotional, buffered by the strength of the songs on the tour's parent album and the choice to include so many beloved crowd pleasers.

It was composed and played by Coverdale alone, using electronic organ, modular synthesis, and piano, and it contains longer pieces which flow into each other, subtly evolving.

Long March Through the Jazz Age is a wonderful final statement for Bailey and the Saints: it's reminiscent of their best post-punk work and serves as a reminder for all who may have forgotten that Bailey's skills as a writer and singer were immense.

Antibalas have an innate chemistry and musical shorthand that sounds effortless. The heavy parts always hit hard, but the intricacies of their arrangements are what make them consistently interesting.

Wreckless Eric has rescued a handful of first-rate songs from their initial second-rate presentation, and his belief in this material pays handsome dividends here, ranking with his best work of the 21st century.

Throughout, Spíra's soft, intricate arrangements, earnest vocals, and frequent minor modes give it a quality that's exquisite and haunting at once, making it an excellent entry point to an artist due for rediscovery.

A record that is just as impressively crafted as anything Prochet has done. That is high praise indeed, considering she's made some of the most inventive and pleasing neo-psychedelic adjacent albums of the previous decade or so.

Imaginational Anthem XIV: Ireland is yet another indispensible, high quality, revelatory missive from Ireland's bountiful guitar tradition.

The songs bleed together in a way that invites the record to be listened to from front to back, with Open Mike Eagle's existential metaphors and semi-abstract flows melting into an interconnected statement best experienced in its totality.

While some of Holy Island is danceable, some is dreamy, and some is pure atmosphere, these characteristics come together on the six-minute closer, "Morning Bell," which, with more crashing water sounds alongside footsteps and an actual bell, seems to leave us shipwrecked rather than safe in bed as we awaken from a dream.

It's a fantastic reminder of the side of GbV that's been underrepresented on some of their 2010s/2020s records: their ability to make fun, rambunctious rockers that are easy to sing along to.

It's defiantly a new kind of experience for the band, one that might surprise fans looking to this revival for kicks, but also one that will thrill anyone looking for a record that sounds like the most contrary, uncompromising, and flat-out punk thing possible in 2025.