For a man on his 8th solo release now, Kurt Vile is going from strength to strength and makes classic rock palatable and catchy like the greats have before him.

Taste of Love is one of TWICE’s most cohesive and dazzling albums thus far. It’s fun, mature and makes a great contribution to our current pop-sphere with its retro-sonic aesthetics and escapist feel.

This time it feels more polished and detail-oriented than before.

Washed Out’s fifth album is a genuinely engrossing return to form, filled with memorable songs and flawless craftsmanship. A soundtrack for growing out of the past, and into the future.

This black abyss that Loop created is vast and infinite, and yes, even monotonous at times, but Hampson is shooting for the moon on Sonancy. He understands that it takes a rocket ship to get there – and those take time to build.

Totem is a challenging listen, but it's one of the most creative and exciting debuts I've heard all year.

Though the nature of Covers makes it slightly scattershot, and nothing quite hits the heights of some of her past covers, it is decidedly more engaging and diverse than her last album, the lowkey-to-the-point-of-disappearing Wanderer.

It may not reach the same creative highs or artistic wholeness of their previous releases, but in its own right, it can be just as enjoyable.

Be The Void matches guitarist Scott McMicken's clever lyrics, precise riffs, and quivery vocals to the rare glottal gift and intricate bass work of Toby Leaman in this jumble of freaky throwbacks, reflective ruminations, and spontaneous psychedelic bursts.

Letter To You may well Springsteen’s best work since 87’s Tunnel of Love. There are dips in quality in places on the record, but there is a general tone of a satisfied human who got out of the rundown places he always sang about to that bright future that was always over the horizon.

Leftovers may not offer that something she was after, but it’s an undeniably pleasing document of how a surrounding life of family, friends, and personal encounters is perhaps the thing that is real. Only time can turn them into something else.

It just runs over half an hour, but time slips away when you’re inside it, wandering about.

Phantom Island is a beautiful album that occasionally misses the mark lyrically. The album’s big sound and intense optimism offer a lot of brightness to take in. But anyone listening to a band called King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard should not expect subtlety.

More variety would help his cause, but Holiday is a graceful, emotionally affluent debut.

PLUS is a more flagrantly weird collection of odds and ends, but perhaps a better microcosm of the flagrantly weird band that is Autechre.

Their new album, Mercurial World, is a careful collection of pop tracks that threaten, but never quite, reach a boil.

White Rabbits have made a record that is truly their own, so much so that at points it hurts the record.

Only on a few songs does the album bear some weak spots, the most obvious being “Here For Now, For You”; with its under three-minute runtime and lack of evolution, the song feels like an obvious breather. Overall, however, Johnson and company sound completely comfortable throughout The Pet Parade, as if they’re working from a home-field advantage.

It won’t draw new fans in likely, but anyone who’s been following No Age this far are bound to find something worthwhile here, and that’s precisely who the band made this record for.

Hardcourage is an exceedingly worthwhile release from a producer that’s constantly pushing himself toward new things.

With Ghostory, School of Seven Bells recovers with a newfound voice, still evokes everything they once were as dream pop dealers, but it's still extremely visible that they have more room to grow.

Norm plays with our emotions more than Wilds or The Neon Skyline did because Shauf’s writing from perspective of what could be considered a villain, and his impeccable storytelling takes liberties where others dare not.

These 12 songs are denser in their instrumentation and production than Hatchie’s previous work. ... Regardless, the album is still imbued with Pilbeam’s established touches of enchantment and sensitivity.

For the most part, Rad Times Xpress IV bubbles over with a love of over the top rock n roll that's impossible to not find endearing.

She’s carrying the weight of her experiences on her shoulders, but that’s not stopping her from enjoying the thrill of a new crush. She’s confident enough in herself to make the most of this, and every, moment.

Ritual is an enthralling album, highlighting a band flexing their musical muscles, trying to grow and add new sounds to their existing palette.

It’s not Blake’s most immediate album, and probably not his most consistent. But it might be one of his most honest, not because it says more, but because it leaves more unsaid.

Her work is pure naturality with all its contrasts and quirks, but also all of its beauty and intimacy. Her melodies, even at her most unusual, are inviting and engaging, making for a body of work with a disproportionally low entry barrier for how much it rewards attentive listening.

Raymond’s new album, Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark, continues the streak of her showcasing her mastery of the guitar. .... And sometimes the music can be very dense, an onslaught of playing that is much a display of jaw-dropping dexterity as it is a wall of sound that envelops you.

Where Shall We Begin is as strong a debut album as we could have hoped for. It sounds incredibly considered and carefully put together, from each song choice to the instrumental arrangements.

The King is Dead is a few layers of vocal harmony away from being a Fleet Foxes record, which is fine, but the Decemberists are at their best when they sound like themselves.

This album is exciting and promising: Tech N9ne seems to be filling his growing shoes gracefully.

The band put themselves on display nonetheless, incoherency and imperfection be damned. Uppers provides thrills aplenty from a band making their mark during strange times as our new normal sets in, intent on seizing their second chance.

It’s outside the lines at times and consists of hues and shades you might not expect, but this is what makes Fragile Plane a fascinating listening experience.

Aesthetically, it may be polarizing compared to the hit factory that was her debut, but Happier Than Ever stands on its own as a powerfully flawed, overstuffed, but meaningful exploration of what it’s like to live as both a teenager and a superstar in ways that none before her felt comfortable saying.

This EP is a fine stopgap between Morbid Stuff and their next full-length; nothing more, nothing less. The mixture of self-deprecation and unceasing anxiety remains. This Place Sucks Ass: it’s actually the whole world that sucks ass right now, and PUP know it.

There are moments where the album drags, and there's no one that's going to be declaring this a modern classic, but with this strong debut, Young Magic have cemented themselves as a band to watch in the coming years.

Imperfect it may be, but as a concise and focused return, its is an unequivocal triumph.

It would have been easy for songs to have come out overwrought and overproduced here, but instead we have a record of community, of gathering friends around to sing, play with, and support you.

Unsure whether he wanted to create a sunny, party album, gangstafest, or a record of cool pop vibes, Rocky seems to have tried to make them all, and with minor successes in all departments, he sacrifices something stronger.

While the album is a little front-heavy, later gems such as “Texas Weather” provide a feel-good, windows-down sound, soaring towards the end of the LP – despite describing surreal scenes involving power lines swaying like snakes and a friend being arrested for murder.

The Nearer the Fountain, The More Pure the Stream Flows is perhaps the deepest inquiry into the artist – but again, we don’t really know if what we are seeing in the mirror is real.

Mordechai is still very much a psychedelic vista of an album, but the difference is all with the vocals. The bassist of the group, Laura Lee Ochoa, takes command, with her long, stretched-out phrases adding massively to their overall kaleidoscopic groove. The interesting thing here is that the vocals never take a front line, instead they’re always carefully mixed to merely assist the guitar or percussion, creating a fuller sonic experience for the listener.

2R0I2P0 is a fitting summative soundtrack to the end of the year that defined us all. Familiar in so many ways, yet unexpected and challenging in others, it’s the sound of the light at the end of the tunnel, of the enchantment within all of the mess.

Though Moore's lyrics are a bit more obtuse, this could just as easily soundtrack a breakup as Sea Change could.

As easy as it is to get hung up on how similar El Camino sounds compared to Brothers and even parts of Attack & Release, there are instances which set this effort apart from their past work.

With pop music gradually crumbling under the heel of the algorithm-driven technocracy, their grotesque bricolage of styles isn’t so easily replicated or defined. ILION finds SLIFT banging at the walls, and at the very least, leaving some serious dents in the process.

The majority of Playing Robots Into Heaven is still very good, but the album is missing the skyscraping highs of past tracks like “The Wilhelm Scream” or “Retrograde”, and its cohesiveness is hampered by a few lesser songs that have slipped past the slackened quality control department.

Overall, while Blondes' debut album isn't quite as dynamic as the EP, it still serves its purpose as a notable standout from the upstart duo.

Oh Holy Molar isn't quite poetry in motion, but not all poetry needs to be in such a state to be enjoyed.

Warnings is a real grower; for every moment of instant gratification here, there’s another that requires more work. The more time you invest in I Break Horses’ latest work, the more you get out of it.

The band continues such a music building process on EXPO. This time around the balance Ulrika Spacek create is between electronic and traditional rock instrumentation while at the same time keeping the complexity of the music at the level that makes music have a natural flow.

Though freer than the critically acclaimed Ungodly Hour, it is also less focused. Her performance rises to greater heights, but her music doesn’t always rise with her. Still, it is a work laden with potential.

Reflective by nature, it might not have been her expected next step, but is nonetheless a beautifully delicate album that benefits from repeated close listening.

This is a record that feels whole and woven with direction and intent. It may disappoint some who desire the disjointed immediacy of Pain Olympics, but don’t discount Tough Baby just because of its lack of single-worthy material. Give it time to allow its message of hope and empathy amidst disarray to take hold.

In the opening track “Weapon”, Njoku’s story takes off intriguingly with him weaponizing himself, his spirit and his music. The track builds up to a strong finish with rich, cinematic sounds that pull you in.

Sparke deals more in intangible feelings and imagery than precise and name-dropping detail, and the fact is that most of Echo was completed prior to the pandemic forcing a rift between them. Lenker’s instrumental contributions are minimal; she plays gently beside Sparke on a few songs. ... Indeed, the production helps maintain the focus on Sparke throughout.

If Scarlet was the firestorm, Vie is the afterglow: still flickering, still restless, but finally willing to show the cracks that make the light come through.

It’s when Claud pushes past these stylistic tropes that their potential shines.

While Tender New Signs may not point you in any dramatically different directions than their debut did, it certainly displays a growing maturity in both Tamaryn and Shelverton.

Beer has opted for a generally more cohesive sound. While some tracks do run the risk of sounding samey in terms of production, the main strengths of this album lie in Beer’s powerful voice and transparent lyrics.

Thundercat has a giant heart, and It Is What It Is is the best display of his enormous empathy yet, even if it does have a few unnecessary goofs along the way.

Who knows whether the notoriously megalomaniacal Jackson would approve of this album-people on both sides of that argument have valid points-but as a start-to-finish collection of songs it's more enjoyable and less filler-stuffed than anything he's released since Bad, a minor miracle given the circumstances.

Taken all together, Fake It Flowers is a resoundingly confident and addictive debut from someone who sounds like she’s ready to take on the world.

While A Foul Form honors the history of hardcore, it also occurs as smartly topical, the band’s turbid rage and anti-aesthetic stance conjuring a post-capitalistic malaise and the decay of global culture. And though this set marks a pivot from previous work, spotlighting the band as they navigate a fresh battery of sonics, it’s unmistakably them.

The project as a whole, despite its unabashed expressiveness, is characterized by subtle restraint, particularly on the part of Chubb. Flirting with histrionics while employing a semi-confessional MO, she largely avoids collapsing into hackneyed postures or melodrama.

The young choristers’ bright, buoyant singing brings an airy freshness to this singular set of synth-laden art-pop songs, a well-suited sonic palette for Jenn Wasner’s thoughtful musings on contemporary life.

All the arrangements feel organic and overflow from track to track. Rossen’s crafted a purposeful exploitation of his emotions as always, but this time it’s fully under his control.

It pushes and pulls the listener into its warm underbelly whilst being contradictory in nature from one minute to the next. The more jarring elements of the album are counterpointed with soothing cascades of sound that envelope the listener before being jettisoned off again before too long.

On one hand, Muddy Time is clearly a love letter to Doyle’s beloved predecessors, most readily perhaps Robert Wyatt’s Rock Bottom as well as Eno’s earlier vocal flirtations. But it’s also perhaps the most complete vision of Doyle’s works yet.

It's worth giving Castlemania a few more chances, because beneath what feels like constant disharmony, is something quite refreshing.

Overall, Asphalt Meadows is a fine record from a band so deep into their career they really have nothing left to prove — except, it seems, to themselves.

More than anything, the album allows the trio to not only appeal to the variety within their followers, it also shows they’ve still got plenty of ground ahead of them.

On Half A Human, they’ve taken steps to create songs that better reflect their states of mind and, as a result, have uncovered a new confidence and self-assuredness. Regardless of their music’s reception, their changing circumstances, the world at large, they’re right where they want to be.

With a twisted approach to a tried sound, The C.I.A. expand on their declarations of their debut, enhancing every note, every string, every crash, and a lot of it comes from how well the three synchronize their unique sounds.

There is plenty of fun and escapism of the sort that gave Jepsen her well-earned reputation in the popsphere, but in terms of her progression as an artist, its most striking tracks prove to be the ones that are more self-focused.

This isn't yet Tucker's masterpiece. But it's surely a step in that direction.

Blood is an undeniably fun album brimming with indie-pop sensibilities and anthemic energy that makes listeners want to sing along.

Despite the leaps and bounds that this effort makes songwriting wise, it just feels less unique than it did before.

Desire Lines is undoubtedly a Camera Obscura album, but it might be their first that is more suited to quiet winter nights inside, rather than the sunny side of things that dominated their sound on their previous albums.

Foxing are aware they’re alienating some fans, but that makes it the kind of evolution one should admire and value. And with Murphy’s melancholic poetry persisting as the band’s heavy heart and soul, the genre’s most polarizing band, whether you like it or not, has reached yet another new level of boldness and grandeur.

It is perhaps her most approachable and her most celebratory, and a solid reminder of why she garnered our attention in the first place.

Although it’s not without some flaws, mainly lying within its familiarity, Anything Can’t Happen is a terrific album from Dorothea Paas, whose career will hopefully only go up from here.

Bully’s third album is nonetheless breezy, it’s unapologetic in its raggedness, and even if they aren’t exactly reinventing the wheel they still align perfectly with each other and support Bognanno wonderfully. Bully are still pushing the painful narrative begun on Feels Like, and SUGAREGG is a continuation of those themes in a way that works powerfully for them.

The Hill comes alive and is best enjoyed when under close inspection. With each subsequent release, the band have placed greater value in texture as a driving force for eliciting emotional reactions, and this album continues that trend.

Devoid of meaty pop nuggets, Mythopoetics sounds like an unstable wormhole that travels from 2020’s critically-lauded The Caretaker to wherever the heck the Half Waif project lands next.

They still may not make an incredibly fashionable brand of music, but this new record shows that they're pretty great at it.

While Personality is worthy of praise for its feverous energy and detailed, hot-iron arrangements, there isn't a lot to make the album really stick.

Self Worth may not be the most well-rounded punk album of 2020, but it still manages to be hyper-focused in sound, expression, and energy.

one hand on the steering wheel might not have any clear missteps (though the jagged pedal twang filling the empty space on “violence” wears a little thin all too quickly), but it may take some time to warm to. Some offerings are more instantly likeable than others.

The constant references to New York City reveal not refinement but a perpetual fish-out-of-water state, of being handed the marshal’s baton by accident or circumstance and then pressed into service. The agony over him trying to control the message of his personal life is washed away in the descriptions of a man ostensibly standing in the tide wearing a soaking-wet tuxedo.

Based on the strengths of The Dreamer/The Believer, it's simply nice to hear a resurgent Common back on track, doing what he does best, even if he's not the

The character of each new Low album is always a mystery until you hear it, so speculating on whether they’re likely to continue working in this manner is pointless at this juncture, but it’s good to know that ten albums in Low still have the ability to put together a stirring collection of songs.

It may be a sprawling, jumbled mess, but if Goblin's primary reason for being is to further convince us just how completely nuts Tyler actually is, then I'd say it's a success.

With Care, CLAMM continue to reconfigure their sources and refine their methods, offering their take on the current age, fractured as it is by pandemics, climate change, acute financial instabilities, and the rise of the autocratic impulse. They bemoan the human tragedy, but in so doing, experience a fleeting high.

if i could make it go quiet does a pretty great job of playing to Ulven’s strengths while also branching out. Her newer territory might take a moment to adjust to, and may not always entirely suit her, but so long as she keeps singing about the experiences and feelings that are her own, she will remain captivating and exciting.

Even with the palpable style of The National all over the album, it does feel like Swift has finally found the authenticity she’s been chasing with each respective release ever since Red. But still, Swift’s vocal delivery lacks the emotional depth of the artists this album pays homage to.

The lyricism is impressive, and it's easy to get lost in it, but--some very noteworthy highlights aside--once that wears off, it's unlikely you'll return to Hell all that often.