Even if this is her most ‘focused’ release yet, the lingering thought after the snappy 24 minutes of Lily We Need To Talk Now is the abundance of upside she still has left to explore. Though, to her credit, Lily Konigsberg has been doing that every time.

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.

The album is suffused with atmosphere, and is full of intriguing narrative ideas, compelling lyrics, and some of her most well-observed stories. Ultimately, though, it ends up coming off a bit too staid and stuck in its own yawning landscape to truly take off.

Hand Habits’ music is the kind where there are no certainties; it’s all searching with the occasional discovery, but the detail of the journey is the beauty.

Beginning with another Strokesian riff, Geese build momentum for a catastrophic finale and deliver the goods in an almost Deerhunter via Monomania-like fashion, before abruptly pulling the plug, and ultimately leaving us wanting more.

There’s something ungraspable about their music: referential yet original, derivative yet prototypical, memorable yet oddly irretrievable. Ponderous yet transcendent. A listener is invited to encounter the assorted boundaries of their own preferences, biases, identity – to let those hard lines dissolve.

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.

Yes, this will drive some away, and allow critics to easily point to its messiness (as if NFR wasn’t all over the place aesthetically – something Antonoff’s production homogeneity cleverly disguised – same with Lust for Life, or the underrated Born to Die), but it is also rewarding and surprising.

It’s a little loose, a little shaggy, and sometimes simply unimaginative or rote, but it also provides an intriguing glimpse into the archives of one our most beguiling artists.

Over the course of the album, we seem to hear Fohr coming to terms with the vastness of mortality, and realising that it is in itself beautiful – it is what makes life precious. With the enormity of that acceptance gradually arriving, her soul emerges, no longer eclipsed by grief, shining brighter than ever.

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.

Sympathy for Life‘s strongest moments come in the songs that sound least like the Parquet Courts we’ve known before.

The album does offer some nice expansions on themes and compositional ideas from his debut. But, all in all, too much of Moondust for My Diamond gets lost in its own glittery haze.

Her transitions between language and style are seamless, and the carefully crafted and idiosyncratic arrangements help to guide our ears along with her mind and heart.

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

Illusory Walls is a definitive document of the power of their combined ability and belief.

Friends That Break Your Heart is Blake at his most pared-back and unflinching lyrically and could also be considered his most accessible album yet. For some, this dismal balladry might feel a bit too far removed from the experimentally-textured electronics of his first two albums, yet Blake has found a brilliant way to still be unconventional and accessible at the same time.

Luminol’s focused stylistics and singular aesthetic succeed overall, yielding a distinctly cohesive and compelling project while further establishing Johnston’s already recognizable brand.

One thing that can’t be denied is that it opens up more with each listen, and if this isn’t a reason to keep returning to it again and again, then I don’t know what would be.

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.

Free I.H. may have been Tudzin’s war cry, but Let Me Do One More is a comfort record. It shows resilience and passion from one of indie music’s most intriguing risk takers.

Ultimately, Colourgrade feels like staying up all night on the couch alongside Tirzah, but rather than chatting away, you exchange the occasional warm remarks, getting no nearer to knowing what’s really going on inside her head.

As good as Poppy’s previous work was, this is a whole new level.

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.

A Beginner’s Mind proves the two are not only capable of making beautiful music as a duo, but bodes well for their solo work to come — it’s yet another captivating plot point in their overarching narratives.

His voice soulfully conveys the journey in all its deviations and obstacles unflinchingly while still providing listeners with the means to immerse themselves and bop their heads along.

When Woman On the Internet isn’t fun, bold, or thoughtful (or all three at once in some parts), it’s reflective.

This is a great and important record. Just listen.