Somehow, allowing it its true moment on the shelves has solidified the record's historical importance.

It is an exciting and emotional listening experience that feels both carefully masterful and sincerely unfiltered.

Comparing him to other rappers is pointless: there are other guys with much more technically-sound flows (although Ye is as wickedly funny as he's ever been), but nobody else possesses the combination of hubris, imagination, neuroticism, and drive it takes to make a record like this.

With a little help from an impressive array of collaborators and producers that include heavyweights like Pharrell Williams, El Guincho and Frank Dukes, Rosalía takes clear and complete control of her voice by getting her ideas across without being too caught up in them.

Albums like this are rare and special, highlighting pop’s capacity to sculpt our emotions and steer us towards something better beyond the horizon.

SAULT force us to focus our attention instead on the music itself and the messages that come with it. More than writing simple protest songs, they are creating what is arguably some of the most life-affirming and confrontational music released in recent years – and all of it comes at a much-needed time.

Time has only been kind to Life's Rich Pageant, and, hopefully, not much more time will be required to it to take its place in the rock and roll canon as the practically perfect album that it is.

The bonus material on discs five and six of the box set (which also includes Achtung Baby's severely underrated 1993 follow-up Zooropa and two pointless discs of remixes that likely won't be of much use even to die-hards) only serve to illuminate how much had to go right for the album to be as good as it was.

It’s imposing, ominous, and enthralling in equal measure.

What rides at the top and takes your attention pretty much all the time is Taylor herself. Her words are honest and palpable, but also unflinchingly direct.

This overall reduction in the reliance on guitar riffs allows for greater flexibility of sound, and as such BCNR wring out more staggering peaks of emotion from Wood’s lovelorn words.

Sunbather is a future classic, no matter where you pigeonhole it, and that’s the mark of a true sonic masterpiece. Black metal, not black metal, just call it what it is: perfect.

They’ve managed to pace their listeners through sonic wreckage while being a little more daring in doing so. Synths, chipmunked vocals, and R&B flair don’t suggest this is the future of hardcore, but these elements do indicate that the genre’s future is more encompassing, and it will have this record to thank.

Patterns in Repeat is another short album that feels like a glimpse into Marling’s household, a slice of her own domesticity to track her first years of motherhood. It’s another gift, for her child and her listeners, but more assuredly for herself.

For an album called Carnage, on the surface it appears to have none, but the inner turmoil of Nick Cave’s psyche is full of it. He fantasizes about long lost loves, but also about shooting you in the fucking face, and it’s this toying with our emotions makes Carnage one of Cave’s most maddeningly beautiful records.

In addition to being one of the year's most soberingly bleak R&B releases, Channel Orange is also one of the prettiest.

But The Greater Wings, for all its inevitable connotations, is not a downer. It’s a beautiful testament to life and to the people we love and that keep us going, physically and spiritually. It’s also a testament to moving forward with grace and strength, and rediscovering that longing to live.

A dense, sometimes challenging, but ultimately patience-rewarding listen.

Beyoncé has given us her most excessive body of work to date. It is unfocused, it swerves and changes directions, yet delivers quality in so many different ways no part of it can be called inessential. While one could choose a cynical route and think their way into not appreciating the full product, the truth is history will be kind to Cowboy Carter as yet another classic album from Queen Bey.

The album is Neurosis’ most apocalyptic in a long time.

Could Glutton For Punishment have been more strategically curated? Perhaps, but this is an ambitious act. And sometimes you need to be commended for what you attempt as much as for what you achieve.

It’s an album expressing the joys of love – physical, verbal, musical, familial and all the other kinds. While she’s the one in the spotlight throughout the album, this isn’t a record about her – instead she’s honouring all those people who find themselves through the release provided by these communal spaces. And damn, it’s a hell of a good time.

For all its indulgence and fluid musical expression, Sex, Death & the Infinite Void doesn’t even crack 40 minutes in length. Creeper accomplish a lot in that time, and their new record is a suitably triumphant return.

These songs show that Rodrigo isn’t done after GUTS.

To call the record spectacular doesn’t do it justice. Over the span of 32 songs, Cindy Lee and Flegel melt into a wholly new sound world of imaginary Americana that feels incredibly hypnagogic. 1966 weighs heavy here, as The Velvet Underground, The Byrds, Ricky Nelson and Joe Meek collide into a strange new sound.

It may take a few years for SOS to ascend to the heights, but if 808s & Heartbreak was the breakup record of the 2000s and Blonde was the 2010s examination of loss and trauma, then SZA might have produced that emotional breaking point for the 2020s.

The main difference between Stranger in the Alps and Punisher is simply maturation of her writing.

At only 42 minutes, its greatest quality comes in the desire to put the album on constant repeat.

The album’s brevity only adds to the allure, as it is stripped of any excess, and devoid of a single misstep. It is a distinct departure, but ultimately unsurprising in its flawless execution.

There’s a lot going on here, and Benefits have refused to stand still in the face of increasing media attention. Whether this works in their favour with their core audience remains to be seen, but there’s a boldness – and contrarian flippancy – that should be applauded. .... When Constant Noise triumphs, it absolutely soars.

Glory spotlights Hadreas as he mines this incarnation, its abundant beauty and messiness. He’s left a window to that alt-life open, however, and the winds from that realm gust through these songs.

While actually even shorter than her last album’s nearly-28 minutes, Here in the Pitch feels heavier, more substantial, and more robust than almost anything she’s done before.

woods has transcended the line of being a great artist and entered the realm of genius. With Kenny Segal’s help, he has conjured a work that is wholly its own, both in the artist’s discography and in the rap genre.

Grӕ is so rich in content and so vast in musicality it would be impossible to unpack everything in a single review. It is complex yet universal – comforting yet unsettling. It lives in an incorporeal realm of its own, and somehow, Sumney has gained complete and utter command over it.

The vast majority of Ware’s fifth LP serves as a masterclass in following up a beloved previous album – taking What’s Your Pleasure’s core elements and stretching them into wilder and weirder directions. Now, that feels good.

It’s a seamless and natural progression from when the band released squeaky-clean interpretations of their beloved 2020 album Brave Faces Everyone, just last year on Brave Faces Etc. But they’ve buckled down, tightened things up, and now observe sheen and a bit of grit with an impressive balance.

This is a band operating at their highest, most infectious potency, and the end result is riveting.

Opener “Between the Fingers the Drops of Tomorrow’s Dawn” foreshadows what is to come: rites of passage, intense spells of grief and acceptance, and stretches of mystical visions that seem so familiar yet so strange. It is during these epic tracks where the sounds from instruments you have never heard all combine to create something that feels perennial, enormous, and truly unique.

There is certainly potential here, but this first Bloodmoon record definitely feels like a testing ground. There is an uncertainty in tone, and a clashing of sensibilities that is thrilling at times, awkward at others.

RTJ4 is every bit as explosive as one would have hoped, and whatever it lacks in diversity it makes up for with strong writing. It’s a record born out of generations of racial tension and almost four years of near-dictatorship in the USA.

One of those rare, near-flawless works of art that only grows finer with age.

While there are some tracks that could have been expended, that just wouldn’t be Rina’s style. She’s here to express her excessive, melodramatic, fun-loving, pain-harbouring persona in every single different way she can, without holding anything back – and SAWAYAMA should be celebrated for that.

The result is a project that frequently sweeps the listener into a trance, ruptures that trance, and then reestablishes it.

They round out the subtle complexities in the seemingly simple story of longing; a tip-toeing toybox melody reflecting the delicacy of the situation, digital glitches suggesting the distance between them, sighs that relay the inner conflict. This precision features throughout Jennifer B, and it’s thanks to these careful touches that each song connects on a deeper level, despite their structurelessness and unpredictability.

Florist’s latest project stands as the culmination of previous collaborative and solo work, featuring the band as a whole at their most minimally precise; and Sprague, in terms of songwriting, vocal performances, and composition, at her most versatile and visionary.

The wicked atmosphere that they’ve crafted across Heart Under is worthy of celebration alone.

The result is a testament to what can be achieved by committing yourself to your dreams and desires, and it should see Nourished By Time handsomely rewarded with growing notoriety and admiration.

Whether or not Dabice believes things inside her have changed, it’s undoubted that I Got Heaven is taking Mannequin Pussy to new levels, and things on her exterior are only going to get bigger and brighter.

Parks has made her most undeniable statement yet, an album full of uplifting and mesmerizing neo-classics that will fit right in the hearts and minds of the thousands it will touch.

Shortly After Takeoff is a powerful collection made by someone who’s had to endure more than his fair share of turbulence.

In its cohesive yet creative sound, maturity and vulnerability, what we hear is the potential of a 22-year-old musician who hopefully still has many years of artistic growth and classic songs ahead of her.

Simpson’s voice is more resonant than ever, his melodic sensibilities on full display. Over eight songs and 41 minutes, he forges sublime and heartfelt work, evoking the epic poles of experience: loneliness and belonging, forlornness and gratitude, faith and doubt.

Instrumentally, Ignorance transcends the traditional folk that The Weather Station tirelessly perfected over the previous four albums. With an ever-expanding palette of sonics at her disposal, Lindeman weaves these tales of turmoil and regret through the usage of everything possible – horns, strings, several subtle non-acoustic guitars, and most prominently the piano. To reach the levels of awareness she sought required another level of sound, and it crackles throughout Ignorance.

By using her clear mind to acknowledge all that has made up who she is, she has put together the puzzle of her past through the lens of today to create something that transcends its personal nature to truly resonate with her widening audience.

“Whiskey” comes to terms with what turns out to be an album-long treatise on love. The emotional and theoretical aspects out of the way, she assesses a flawed, drink-loving co-human and decides she can work with imperfection. The moment is captured in bright, awakening tones where dawn is first noticed by the ears. Dawn in New York, where she lives. Spectacularly, among us.

Handsome almost in spite of itself, The Idler Wheel is poignant, nuanced and quietly unforgettable.

Squid’s music is full of: humanity and the inherent hope within it. It’s what makes Bright Green Field a joy to return to time and again.

On In Lieu Of Flowers, COVID-19 lockdowns and quarantine provide a suitably bleak backdrop to their narrator’s tails of spiralling alcoholism and isolation. .... Despite this, the music rises with an undeniable air of victory as driving drums and guitars crescendo alongside horn flourishes. Like on much of In Lieu of Flowers, West can’t help but be awestruck by the unlikely triumph of still being alive amidst the wreckage.

Delivering their most ambitious and longest album since 2010’s opus Romance Is Boring – and doing so while maintaining all the hallmarks that have made them such a beloved force.

Somewhat of a companion piece to The Cure’s Songs of a Lost World, Antidepressants will not only be a new favourite of Suede fans, but also open a new audience up to them.

Yes, it is very hard to convey the sheer creative joy within these compositions Clark has come up with, but what’s more important is the bigger picture. And that is that St. Vincent can no longer be directly compared (or plagiarised).

It's too bad it couldn't find release on a major, but still a victory. Yet, that doesn't make this album, as Saigon once declared it, the best record of the last 20 years. It makes it a good one.

With New Threats, Davis, flanked by the talented Roadhouse Band, makes his mark, perhaps indelibly, joining a select group of artists who are deepening, broadening, and revamping the Americana genre.

Sanguivore might not be as precisely balanced and pop-pitched as Sex, but there’s craft and talent here, and the album is punctuated with sublime and sublimely entertaining moments.

It’s great, urgent music. Sad and enticing.

The album may be a little homogenous for some listeners, but this is a narratively and emotionally precise set of songs, set to sneakily indelible melodies. Nastasia has never written with such vivid truthfulness, such earthen brutality.

Women in Music Pt. III is by no means perfect, but its strengths assuredly outweigh the weaknesses. Haim feel completely in the moment here, and are working stronger than ever as a unit.

They have managed to recapture the magic that permeated their best material and made it so imminently replayable. This is a bold move that should be celebrated, and more importantly, it should be emulated.

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.

Despite examining so many thorny questions pertaining to coming of age and the human condition, Big Ugly doesn’t sound half as heavy as one might expect. The fuzzy, twangy guitars and buoyant drumming provide a cushion for harsh truths, and Dowdy renders his characters in warm, light tones – even when their environment is anything but.

While it has quite a few tracks that stand out, besides the glamorous opener, due to their use of pathos-laden synthesizer hooks (“Ben Franklin”, “Headlock”) and moody refrains (“Glory”, “Automate”), the gentle ballads and groovy mid-tempo tracks that make up the album’s second act don’t seem as stylized or aggressively emotional musically as their lyrics demand.

Sonically Song For Our Daughter offers up a familiar feel, which is no doubt from the return of producer Ethan Johns (co-producing alongside Marling here). His touches feel light, but help add weight where necessary, be it with the greater presence of strings or the additional percussion (which never seeks to take the attention, regardless of how busy it is).

Loud City Song is a true achievement from Julia Holter. Nary is there a hook on the album, but the richness and vividness that she brings to the songs musically and lyrically will hook you more effectively anyway.

Bad As Me is yet another sensational landmark on the long, well-traveled path of a man who simply refuses to age.

Often feeling like a more wistful variant of Gibbons’ main band – Portishead – the album’s philosophies seem to live within every second, as every moment gives birth to a new musical idea, a new shade of muted colour that expresses the soul’s struggle with loss.

There’s an irresistible eclecticism on display, with each and every track serving as a unique adventure into some different corner.

Where GREY Area was all about Chinese restaurants, squats, dark back alleys and illegal warehouse clubs, Sometimes I might be introvert is about office buildings, record shops, bedrooms and stage productions. It’s daring and conceptual, but lacks physicality, unity and focus.

English Teacher’s debut album is delicate, accomplished, and complete.

The album’s only other real fault is that an unnecessary number of interludes for such an economic LP (runtime: 36 minutes) creates a sense of disjointedness. However, My Light, My Destroyer remains an unmistakably gorgeous listen created by a musician attuned to perfecting lilting melodies like few others are.

A significant experiment for woods. Lyrically, he’s as eloquent as ever, moving from abstract images to direct statements, from confessional rants to journalistic quips, from the troughs of despair to the apexes of mania. His use of multiple producers pays off, as well, helping to sustain a liminal space.

Call Me If You Get Lost finds Tyler freer than he was on IGOR. He’s managed to combine talents in front of and behind the mic, while amalgamating the serious personalities he used prior with the humor that trademarked his early work. He’s displaying lessons learned here.

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.

Heaven To A Tortured Mind is the kind of album that challenges listeners sonically and lyrically, and makes absolutely no bones about it. It’s full of forward-thinking musical combinations, but in its themes it’s even more progressive.

Allbarone is the next destination for Dury as an experimental artist; he’s successfully been able to capture something new with his twist on hyperpop. The result is an intriguing effort that catapults him into the future realms of pop.

While her last proper album, 2019’s orchestrally-imbued All Mirrors, was something of a coming out party for her grand artistic ambition and scope, Big Time is the coming out party for her true personality. In order to do this, she’s stripped away the grandiosity and reverted back to the country and Americana sounds that she calls home.

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.

It's the broader story through which Undun gains its strength; through the musings and rants of Black Thought and Dice Raw (who, this time around, has near as large a presence as the group's leader).

There’s a depth and sensual nuance to the album that most of her contemporaries lack.

While the mixes on Manning Fireworks are studiously crafted, Lenderman’s presence largely enrolling, and his guitar acumen undeniable, the set’s overall gestalt is naggingly emulative. Lenderman, as compelling as he can be, rarely transcends the influence of his forebears.

The band seem focused on a singular mission: to deliver a rich, imaginative work that demands our attention, one that pushes the expectations of listeners as well as themselves. The question is: do they succeed? The answer is a resounding, unequivocal yes: Only God Was Above Us feels in many ways the kind of album we always knew the band had in them to make.

The way your patience is so handsomely rewarded is what truly makes Lonerism such an engrossing spectacle.

The song ["Gary's II] highlights everything that makes Bleeds one of the most evocative albums of the year: violent, sympathetic, ominous.

Headsoup demonstrates the band’s stylistic versatility and penchant for spontaneity and structure. It is every bit as representative of Goat’s aesthetic as their ‘official’ albums.

And though the second half Orquídeas breaks stylistically with the first – sometimes a bit too abrasively to stay fully engaged – it nevertheless makes sense for an artist like Uchis, who is trying to break industry conventions one project at a time.

Admittedly, The Weeknd is light years away from the sounds of Trilogy and a lot closer to the sounds of After Hours and Starboy, but one thing is for sure: this album is much closer to excellence than his last offerings.

Despite its short length, Kindred provides as much of an experience as Untrue. And commendably, it's a different one.

It’ll be hard to outdo this 20-track masterpiece, but at this point it’s impossible to bet against them.

“Separate Ways” is a sweet beginning, reminiscent of “Out On The Weekend” with a slightly more bitter détour, which immediately reminds us that Homegrown should have followed Harvest. Emmylou Harris’ haunting voice in the background of “Try” sounds simultaneously evocative and familiar — a trait resulting from her frequent collaborations with the likes of Linda Ronstadt, Gram Parsons, and Bob Dylan.