It has everything one could want from a shoegaze album in 2020, without sounding like their last album that much.

Blush is, in its gentle and pleasant way, a strong debut collection of country and folk songs.

Therein lies Gush’s greatest strength. An album pulling in opposite directions musically and thematically could easily have proven misguided, trying and obtuse, yet under Smith’s guidance, it proves an intriguing, tantalizing, and surprising natural fit.

With these influences placed front and center in their tunes, Weekend runs the risk of being written off as a derivative clone; as a band more interested in replicating their heroes than building off the foundation they laid. Fortunately, Weekend has enough personality to ward off this unfair label.

Maybe not every song here is as fully-realized as her best material, and maybe there are a few too many slow-moving ballads – but this doesn’t lessen just how delightful Planet Her ends up as a whole. It’s the type of pop album there should be more of: both playful and psychedelic, rich in intelligent production, and filled with charismatic and chameleonic performances.

Still, beneath all of her oohs and la la, is a dark-blue and starry expedition, a true passion for two musicians that really just permeates straight through the glittering guitars and infectious, harmonized choruses.

For any fans of the group's 90s material, Class Clown is a highly recommended listen, especially for those put off by Factory.

There’s a lot to love about it. It’s a tad too long, and some of the talent is under-utilized, but Dessner and Vernon have created a worthwhile follow-up to their humble debut.

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.

While the album may err one too many times on the side of caution and doesn't venture much beyond its superficial pop veneer–"Foolish Person" notwithstanding–it still shows a band attempting to, and generally succeeding at, conveying the warmth and exuberance of summer.

The band sounds invigorated, and the listening experience benefits hugely from that sense of direction and self-awareness.

At this point, it's hard to know what to let go and what to hold onto as a listener of M83, but regardless, Hurry Up, We're Dreaming is a pretty fantastic record.

Come Around is a brief but strong showing of how Carla dal Forno has honed her craft: by sticking to the DIY spirit and following her muse, wherever it may take her.

The album is his most consistent and complete, finding room for singer-songwriter-type country, alt. country, harder rock and soul within a single record, while retaining a sense of direction and cohesiveness, as well as heart, soul and a satisfying emotional connection between artist and audience .

A noisy, (erratically) bouncy, drone-y, vaguely Strawberry Jam-y set of tracks, which handily establish Vladislav Delay as operating at the top of his game, and still sounding, really, like very little else out there.

No doubt working through the pain and trauma on Violence in a Quiet Mind has helped; the album sounds like a successful therapeutic device for Black. That we’re able to listen in feels intrusive at times, but only because of how vulnerable Black himself sounds. It’s the sound of someone closed off for a long time finally starting to open up.

Ultimately, Tracey Denim lives and thrives in the shadows of past greats, but is unable to escape them.

the record does manage to impress despite being vaguely familiar and prone to flights of guitar fancy for no other reason than it can.

This band are making aural marvels that are sporadic, reactive, and organic — disguised inexactness that will have listeners frozen in an undeveloped state, merely connecting on an emotional level that can hardly be rationalized.

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

Reznor and Ross have managed to balance creating fitting soundscapes without overshadowing the poignant dialogue.

This is a good record, but I can't help thinking that The Low Anthem are on the verge of something great.

Its biggest problem is that, from start of finish, it feels strangely reserved.

Outwardly, Gang of Youths’ third album is one about grief – specifically the grief stemming from the death of Le’aupepe’s father. But more than that, it’s a moving and deeply personal exploration of the innate flaws of the human condition; of failing the ones you love despite your best intentions, and of falling apart and beginning the slow and painful process of piecing yourself back together again afterwards.

It’s less playful and more focused than her last full-length, 2015’s The Expanding Flower Planet, and the concept record suits her well. Any indie artist should start taking notes on how to construct such a complete statement. The rest of us now have a guidebook for an effective personal journey right when we need it most.

CLAMM are strongest when processing their internal states of mind.

While Peaking Lights came into this album lurking largely in the hazy fringes of the consciousness of music fans, with Lucifer they've made an album that more clearly demands the active attention of those who might happen upon it.

The growth in Austra from Feel It Break to Olympia is palpable throughout.

Although this is an album about oneness, we are here for Peng, and these moments where we feel closest to her as a person are some of the most rewarding.

Liminal Soul's likeness to work by others in her country does make it a bit blander than what her fans would expect. Nonetheless, the signature feelings of coldness and solitude, among many other sensations, are still very much present on the record.

They do doom and gloom very well, and more importantly, offer their own unique slant on the sound rather than sound like Joy Division clones.

There's a simultaneous show-of-hand that somehow compliments that emotional weight rather than hinders it. It's that weight that gives these compositions durability, and considering how naked Acab leaves his samples, some staggering life. All said, it's really the bottom line here.

It’s clear that Williams had fun here, that he was able to embrace some of his contemporaries and heroes. But it never feels like a classic record, a necessary record, a weighty record.

He Gets Me High is definitely worth a listen, if not a purchase.

New Moon has extended the the group’s realization of their own freedom.

While there are plenty of fantastic moments to be found and the album is certainly recommendable, its sluggishly repetitive second half reminds the listener too often of exactly what the strengths and weaknesses of this band are.

Boys & Girls is a short album that clocks in at 35-minutes over the course of 11 songs. But by the time it's done, you'll want to start it over again.

There’s an impressive amount of sound and instrumentation for a trio. The consequence is that McEntire doesn’t stand out quite as well as last time, and can easily get lost in the tight, economical work from her bandmates.

Their last album was a solid shoegazing experience, but here, there's just something special about the progression of their songwriting and pop instrumentation that feels just right and the band seems to be comfortable with their own music, like they finally seem to belong.

With Again, Lopatin captures the numbing clutter and volatile emptiness of post-digital, post-humanistic life: the silence that chokes, the clamor that drowns. And while these aren’t original themes (numerous artists have explored these polarities), Lopatin’s response seems notably relevant and largely his own.

PREY//IV sounds like Crystal Castles, but it isn’t a copy of their three albums. This is how they would have progressed, taking influence from FKA twigs and Arca amongst others.

Incessant repetition with infrequent and almost indiscernible alterations in cycles is the key to unlocking the joy inherent in dance music, and Snapped Ankles utilise this recipe with aplomb. Not everything on the album lands fully, though. .... These are, though, minor quibbles on a record that begins to at least start to translate the total enigmatic elation that a Snapped Ankles live show can manifest.

Throughout, she marches from truly great lyricism that is on par with the very best of her contemporary idols and peers to unfiltered writing that leads to more ridicule on TikTok than engagement with the listener. Musically, the project is also split between deeply engaging material that is her best yet, while the main album at times just seems too homogenous for its own good in locked in mid-tempo and synth-pop.

Superbloom proves another ace in Jessie Ware’s hand, albeit one that for the most part stays within the dance-disco territory of her 2020s output.

These are pretty songs, but largely forgettable when amassed together, and though EYEYE is an honorable attempt at switching lanes yet again after a divisive fourth album, it mostly comes up short as a finished product.

Much closer to Z than Evil Urges, My Morning Jacket proves that a leap back can sometimes be a step in the right direction, even if we end up "right back in the same place that we started out."

Every song sounds like a bunch of musicians taking things in stride, enjoying the process of creating over all else. Obviously by loosening the reins a bit, the pitfalls of sometimes recycling melodic and lyrical ideas aren’t completely dodged, and by effect, some tracks end up stranded in limbo around the two-and-a-half minute mark.

It’s as though Jay is playfully toying around with genres without building a fully cohesive record. There are plenty of lovely moments on this LP, but without a clear structure it never truly acts as one.

His choruses don’t jump out at you so much as slink by, which is not always a bad thing, but maybe not what you want from pop music. ... Every song on Changephobia sounds like it has an inch-thick layer of dust on it, but if you take a finger and smear that off, there’s a beautiful ice-cream paint-job below.

This amorphousness was probably part of the intent, with Smith focusing on transformation; how anything in life can be moulded and re-shaped with a bit of determined focus. It’s a compelling idea, which shows itself in many marvellous flashes across The Mosaic of Transformation, but sometimes you wish it would just hold in place and let you admire and appreciate these moments for just a touch longer.

[It offers] up some of the most melodramatic songs Los Campesinos! have recorded to date.

Once again Dunn creates slow, careful, and judicious pieces that mirror the sound between the memories in your head, often lulling the listener into an introspective calm.

Where Gift of Sacrifice really succeeds is in its forays away from tracks that eschew the standard song structure.

It’s both grand introduction and complacent victory lap; both urgent and laid back, all at once, constantly.

The impulsivity that he has carried with him for most of his career has come into full bloom on Jiaolong.

Continue as a Guest hints at what a more purposeful turn could look like for the band.

Tinsel and Lights is at its best during its most Christmassy moments, which in the context of everything else, feels a little ironic, as Thorn sounds like she's trying to avoid the holiday for the most part.

It has clearly come from a very damaged part of Angelakos' psyche, but Gossamer is a step up in sophistication and songcraft, and one of the year's stronger pop albums.

For all its shortcomings, Watch the Throne is still damn good.

It's not that this material is any less challenging than anything that The Books did, it's just infinitely more memorable on a first listen.

Be Up a Hello can be a lot to take in at times, a rambunctious and restless effort from a man comfortable in his ability to make the dancefloor obsolete. But there’s more here than simply speed and density – there are strange currents working their way through the songs, hints are something deeper and more relatable than its superficial excess might suggest.

With All Bets Are Off, Tamar Aphek has crafted an impressively eclectic project, forging elegant balances between minimalism and maximalism and coalescing her affinities for a variety of musical styles.

Her pen excels in etching out the intricate wonders of the emotional spectrum in a way that shows an advanced progression of both musical and emotional maturation. Three Dimensions Deep is a wonder, and I’m sure we’ll be pointing to this album when we look back to what point the world knew Mark was a star.

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.

There’s a lot here for 42 minutes and as a whole the album can be exhausting – but that feels very much like a deliberate outcome.

Era Extraña does not flow as smoothly as Psychic Chasms but the influences are in all the right places and it seems that Alan Palomo is wearing them proudly on his sleeve.

It lacks a genuine peak like “Spanish Sahara” or “Balloons,” but it achieves greater consistency elementally, if not tonally.

Each of these tunes, including the classical inflected "Fish With Broken Dreams" (the earliest track, ostensibly recorded when Maus was 19), hold up to the standard of his previous studio efforts, perhaps even surpassing some of the filler from his two earliest LPs.

If V betrays decadence, it doesn’t manifest itself as sprawl or poor editing – much less a notional narrative. Its languidness is actually its charm, a direct contrast to almost anything in UMO’s fidgety catalog save “Jello And Juggernauts” from the 2011 debut.

It’s a record that captures The Murder Capital at their most raw and uncompromising – alive in the turbulence, unafraid of what lies within and around them.

There’s inevitably a Portishead vibe throughout, but it doesn’t hinder the sound of Ice Melt or reduce Crumb to imitator status – it simply compliments the ethereal sound they’re going for, and remarkably succeed at.

If you give the album the chance it deserves you will be rewarded by one of the strongest LPs you are likely to hear this year.

Her eighth studio album may be her most ambitious yet, but that added weight can lead some songs to run too long or feel overstuffed. She may still be trying to find the right balance between her larger soundscape and storytelling, but Home, before and after is an exciting evolution that feels both old and new.

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.

As a product of Yorke’s mind, AMOK represents a measurable progression over The Eraser. It’s more experimental, varied, nuanced, and likeable.

ME REX have taken a leap and tried something fresh, and depending on how much the thought of an album with instructions thrills or annoys you, you’ll get varying degrees of enjoyment from it. Equally though, that’s kind of the point.

It can be taken as a given that any longstanding fans will immediately enjoy Algiers, but for newcomers, this is also a perfect access point to what is one of the most consistent bands of the 2000s.

Through the steady flowing of Allison's vocals and the constant strumming of the chords as well as the steady drum beats, the band proves that they are more than just robots and distortion; the Kills are indeed talented musicians.

While a more harder-edged and rougher sound certainly could have upped the ante a bit and helped the songwriting talents of Brian Fallon reach a wider audience that would most likely have required an entirely new band, and this is after all "only" a side-project--but it's a very fine one, worthy of attention from both newcomers and already converted.

Girls Names does not dwell on the dourness, but conquers and transforms it into a solace--a sound resulting from some hallucinatory fever like a Max Ernst painting, realizing the shadowy dimension parallel to this existence.

Ultimately, Skullcrusher gives you a small yet satisfying taste of Ballentine’s blossoming internal world—it will be exciting to see where she takes us next.

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.

Something about The Fellowship makes one want to listen to it again and again, but it’s not something that can be put to words, it needs to be experienced — just like a lifetime and the memories made in the process.

Overall, Ceremonials leaves everyone's opinions of Florence + the Machine in stasis; if you loved or hated her before, you'll still feel the same way, if you were unsure, you'll still be unsure.

A fairly unique record that shape-shifts through electronic tones all while giving us a clear view of her inner monologue.

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.

It's the kind of record best fitted for when you're unsure as to what to listen to or when you've got an autumn or winter evening to yourself.

Like a lot of Andrew Bird albums of late, Inside Problems needs some time to reveal itself. Its frustrations and lidless graspings at the world are part of the game here, so that it doesn’t nestle quickly into a box on first listen feels appropriate.

Most often, it delivers what you get on Departing: an enjoyable but still not entirely satisfying collection of songs that don't really work as well together as they do apart.

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.

Mong Tong 夢東 have made something that’s rewarding in both the short and long-term, and they have the nerve to make it look easy.

While Vertigo Days boasts a heap of guest musicians, none ever outshine The Notwist, something that can often happen on guest-heavy albums. Instead, this cast of characters from around the world does wonders for their sound and makes for an intriguing and rewarding listen every time.

Food for Worms‘ greatest strength is to chronicle how incredible it can feel to be in the presence of this band, at this moment. It feels as if you could almost reach out and touch them, rip open their shirts and feel their sweat.

Hive Mind is confident in finding a throughway and becomes as much a joy to listen to for its toy-box experimentation as it is for its head-nodding immediacy.

Centipede Hz is dense and unforgivingly full-throttle--you'll find no "Loch Raven" or even "Chores" here – and home to some of the band's best and most involved lyrics to date.

Rarely does music feel this much like a celebration, and though it might not get to you emotionally, that doesn't mean you can't sing along.

Rainforest is an EP and it does leave the listener wanting. It works as a sort of mini album, finding enough variable direction to point toward a future template for Clams Casino with a myriad of aural directions when he does decide to craft a full-length.