After the muddy emotional quicksand of her previous album, Fohr has found an intoxicating clarity that abandons orchestras for beats. Recorded mostly at night in a basement-studio, the album exudes the limitless, animalistic jungian energy Pan stands for.

The album’s strength is in its sheer breadth, its teleological scope, its grandeur without pretence.

Suck It And See is an almost seamless step forward, reaffirming the notion that the band's shelf life is probably much longer than initially estimated. More importantly, it proves they still have places to go.

This kind of remaster campaign is normally reserved for albums that have had decades to sink into the national consciousness as is, introducing a shock-of-the-new, hearing-it-again-for-the-first-time element, and while the oldest of the Trilogy material has only been around for a year and a half or so, the differences in the new mixes can still be jarring.

Nothing here is overtly thrilling but ultimately the record is a real joy to listen to.

The record is patient and delicate, but Chung remains a constant if not aggressive presence within every track, imbuing each with immaculate detail.

“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.

The whole thing sort of pops into existence, an idea and a testament, and instead of resolving, wistfully swoons into silence, all a dream. But maybe that's what Lennox was going for.

It appeals instantly with its impactful and unforgiving sonic palette, but feels much better when we delve in deeper and engage with the emotion of the words – and for that we must leave rationality at the door.

Iceage mine the clangorous middle ground between traditional punk structures and the often sterile world of Joy Division-indebted post-punk, but they transcend both of those genres, just by meaning what they say.

[A] sprawling, at times impenetrable, but most outstandingly, engaging ramble.

For six albums now the twosome have been tugging along their listeners, perhaps even trolling them in some degree, and Everyone’s Crushed may be their strongest box of tricks to date.

WIXIW is simply a Liars album that exceeds expectations and throws a sonic left curve that not only impresses, but reminds us how talented this band is.

The Great Bailout is as much a historical commentary as a work of art, a detailed chronicle of the way in which a flawed system was flawlessly crafted.

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

Its stark contrasts and melancholy work better on each spin, revealing artists who are wrestling with existential situations.

Far In handles weighty themes outside of love, such as the apocalypse, but Lange’s gentility is what we take from it. His presence is always thoughtful, sincere, never forceful or selfish.

The 10-song, 34-minute project crescendos, Powers perfecting his multifaceted craft while forging one of 2023’s more hypnotic sequences.

Tunes are built slowly and satisfyingly, ebbing and flowing into oceans of ambient sound. Through these layers, though, shine frequent flashes of utter brilliance.

With Celestial Lineage Wolves in the Throne Room have managed to craft a seamless and moving record as well as exceed the potential they'd previously left unfulfilled.

It’s rare to find a lyricist so honest and a vocalist so earnest, and when put into song it seems to Houck as if every word is vital and cathartic and necessary.

Their latest LP, Christfucker, is a further and consummate refinement, resulting in a milestone of seamless eclecticism and uncompromising savagery.

Electronic Dream concludes like it was only meant to be heard once and then remembered in scraps like its namesake, but, thankfully, its starts over as readily as it ends.

The strongest album of their career thus far.

America is an album in two halves, once again separate but together, a side of individual tracks and a four-song suite that inform each other even as they generate tension by nature of their disparity.

A sound ultimately unique to Chalk, Crystalpunk is a sensationally realized work, laced with tastes of madness, both cultural and individual.

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 Been Awful boasts some of Rashad’s most immediately gripping and memorable hooks to date.