From start to finish, the album is a mix of complete swamp-rock songs, only to be broken up by confusing, short bursts of instrumentation.

Bay Dream is a great example of a band living up to the potential hinted at by their early work, and while day-one fans might be turned off by the album's cleaned-up production, it would be ungracious to begrudge a young band their newfound opportunities. Culture Abuse make the most of them here, with an album that should find its way into many a summer playlist.

On Infinite Moment, the Field proves that he's such a master of his craft that he can generate the same excitement from briefly moving outside the box as he can revelling back inside it.

There's still room to grow, but their adventurous spirit on display across the record will hopefully make for some compelling material moving forward.

Un Autre Blanc leaves everything out there and sees him go out on top.

Serving as an exercise in humility, Black Friday is a testament to the value of tenderness in a world steeped in trepidation. For new listeners, the album should function as a cohesive introduction to a band on the rise — and a great point of entry to an already impressive discography.

Powers is a surprisingly sturdy comeback album that sounds exactly how you remember the Futureheads, and that, at least for nostalgia's sake at least, isn't a bad thing at all.

While the sound splashed across Wrecked is quite gripping (exceptionally gritty electronic that heavily works the industrial angle), the lack of distinction within, and contrast between, tracks makes it tough to get behind.

Aloha is a pleasant-enough sounding slice of raspy-sounding soul with enough genuine emotion to spare.

Stetson does an admirable job finding ways to maintain a tone of persistent unease, but his compositional skills are tested by the film's reliance on abstract horror with occasional visceral shocks over any kind of concrete story or consistent character beats. Detached from the visuals it makes for a pretty bumpy ride.

LaMontagne seems more centered and confident as a songwriter this time around, imbuing the tunes with a sparseness that makes the whole effort more homemade and intimate.

Bonnetta casts a net that is wide as well as deeply personal, which creates a sound that is impressive both technically and in terms of the depth of inner exploration.

While this is likely not an album that will float them to the mainstream, it is one to be proud of.

Pomegranate is sharp and vibrant, like a pulled pin it explodes lofty ideas and ideals, dreams sold to us by mainstream culture and reigning ideologies, and offers the everyday as something worth celebrating.

It's a treat to get an album that feels as real as The Starrr of the Queen of Life.

The beauty of Hurts Like Hell is rooted in this catharsis: transmuting pain — the good, the bad and the ugly — into a unit of strength and perseverance.

Keepsake marks an assertive, confident step forward for Hatchie and Pilbeam is well on her way to carving out her own storied path.

Cracker Island is the most focused and least eclectic instalment in the band's discography — and for that reason, it absolutely breezes by.

Oneiric Formulary may lack overall thematic consistency, and could benefit from Bishop letting loose a little more, but it's satisfying to hear a master of his craft putting his own stamp on some timeless sounds.

While long-gone are the sonic textures of the band's early years — replaced here with some novel and resourceful instrumentation — the group's second (and now longest) run has been unbelievably solid and unimpeachable.

This record's varied influences are held together by the mastery of both D'Agostino's songwriting and Congleton's production. It's unpredictable but immensely rewarding.

Despite its "six years in the making" descriptor, Allegiance and Conviction feels more like an EP of collected experiments toward a new, more realized work. A satisfying stop along the way to the main attraction.

Although Aquarius may not rock the boat with innovation, its more than confident in its stride, delivering an entertaining effort from the sultry singer.

Long-time fans will be rewarded in spades, and newcomers to the Wacos could do a lot worse than starting their journey here.

On Conference of Trees, Pantha du Prince creates new vistas of sound by expanding his musical palette progressively, holistically and audaciously.

Prize never overstays its welcome, doesn't stretch on and on, and feels like it should be listened to all in one go. It doesn't demand so much attention that the listener can't use it as a backdrop to doing something else, though it would be a disservice to allow the record's sneakily dense arrangements to melt into the ether.

Despite the disparate styles and messages, there's a seamlessness to the record that can only be credited to Aitchison and frequent collaborator and executive producer A.G. Cook's deft songwriting and production. They've created an Event Pop Record with purpose, pointing the way forward while positioning Aitchison as a pop artist with something to say.

There are no false steps here in this forest of dreams.

On Claustrophobia, Scuba has created an engrossing long-player that's surprisingly more mode-y than moody.

Suede establish and uphold the album's gravitas with the type of symphonic grandiosity we've come to anticipate from them.

Aside from this titanic single, Club Meds is an album of subtle pleasures that's more likely to creep under your skin than hit you over the head.

Still Life is a slick, full-bodied collection that shows that Morby has lots of sonic ideas, most of which are great.

Personal tumult is not an unusual topic for an album, especially by someone in their 20s, but McMahon's sharp lyrical phrases and outstanding voice are enough to make Salt a fresh and exhilarating debut.

Oddisee challenges uninitiated music lovers to engage with his ideas and his formidable body of work.

Give a Glimpse of What Yer Not is another fine entry into Dinosaur Jr.'s ever-expanding catalogue. Whether or not the group are attracting new listeners with these releases is unclear, but they're certainly doing nothing to dissuade old ones.

What makes this nine-track/45-minute LP so fascinating is just how many ideas Houck injects into it, throwing layers of piano, wordless backing vocals and ambient effects into the mix.

The result is remarkable consistency across 19 tracks. Indeed, Yes Lawd! is an album best appreciated with complete play-through.

Pale Horses compiles all of the strengths of mewithoutYou into a gorgeous, dense package that remains engaging throughout.

To some fans, The Center Won't Hold might always be remembered as the album that convinced Sleater-Kinney's legendary drummer to leave. But really, it should be celebrated as a brave left turn, where one of indie rock's most consistent bands took a giant creative leap 25 years into their career and stuck the landing with poise.

Her ability to turn raw emotion into compelling and riveting music carries Exile in the Outer Ring, and the result is some of the best material we've heard from her yet.

Even through the heavier topics of illness and recovery, a melodic sense of dance carries the message, but what delivers the punch is Hanna's voice.

New listeners will surely be inclined to throw them into their rotation with open arms, and those already in the know will be glad to hear Militarie Gun continue to exceed expectations.

Soulful yet sensational, Fabriclive 93 is a consuming mix that marks the intersection of Snaith's dance floor personas--and powerfully so.

The album is at its best when the Highwomen subvert country tropes.

Twins might not completely match up to the perfect storm of Slaughterhouse, but it is another solid addition to Segall's discography.

Colleen continues to craft uniquely personal experimental music with a clear artistic voice, and her latest release might be her greatest achievement yet.

The subject matter is profoundly dark, but the songs somehow come across as lithe and inviting.

Untame the Tiger feels more like something that was worked away at as a healing distraction, put down and picked back up at irregular intervals. The album’s first half generates a positive charge that tapers off toward its conclusion, but Timony’s sly guitar magic is always there to provide a jolt of life.

Elements of Jawbreaker, Pavement and even some riot grrrl gender politics rear their heads on their debut proper. The sound is beefier, but no less raw.

On Purge, it feels like the band has finally found a sense of catharsis. In the end, this record does exactly what it says it will; it offers listeners a chance to dwell and stew on the darkness in their lives before inviting them to release those feelings; while the relief might be temporary, sometimes that's all you need.

More than anything on this album, the quintet prove they are willing to travel far and wide when it comes to exploring new sounds, while still being able to deliver a cohesive final product.

Calvi is unquestionably a great performer, but on One Breath, her work reaches a level of nuance that the majority of contemporary music lacks.

Only the lengthy closer "Made of Air," while in line with Harris' more drone-based experimental output, seems somewhat unnecessary here.... Otherwise, Grouper's latest is yet another exceptional offering that captures a truly unique voice in a uniquely natural setting.

Much like forbearer k.d. lang, Ortega just wants to be herself, and the image she's built up over her previous two albums has now fully matured on Tin Star.

Reassemblage is compelling, sure, but perhaps only for those who have the patience or curiosity for an exploration of the sonic predecessors of electronica.

Love Keeps Kicking doesn't really break any new ground; it shares themes with recent releases from artists like Superchunk and Natalie Prass. But Martha's goal is more about making you feel than think.

The smooth way in which Alexander's voice blends between shifting country and soul backgrounds demonstrates versatility, and his clear and accessible vocal delivery helps tie together these different strands like a good leader.

The songs on this album aren't going to be overshadowing the classics that the band built their name on, but they'll sit nicely alongside them, and The End, So Far is a worthy addition to Slipknot's raucous arsenal.

Dspite its morbid title, Loss of Life contains some of MGMT’s most sincere and hopeful music.

At their best, the band use these chances to explore in moments of pure creativity. At their worst, they meander aimlessly, the live music equivalent of listening in on a conversation that was never really that interesting to begin with.

Lazaretto will no doubt be heavily scrutinized by critics and celebrated by hardcore fans, but love it or hate it, nobody can call this stuff "watered-down."

The fact that it's both artistically bugged out and immediately rewarding is just the icing on the cake.

At times, At Swim feels like it drifts aimlessly. ... Nevertheless, At Swim is like a dream you won't want to wake up from.

In its own way, City Music is just as ambitious as the more obviously musically ambitious Singing Saw was; have this on hand for certain literary yet off-kilter late night city moods.

Everything works and there's really nothing more a fan of either Organs or Comets could ask for.

It looks like there may be some wind left in this crew's sails after all.

It's singular, creative work with pure intent; that makes Girlpool an important band, and it makes Powerplant an authentic, beautiful, effective record.

Totalling more than 80 minutes of chilling ambient, Ghosts VI is as unsettling as it is dazzling.

Richard remains a testament to boundary-pushing, genre bending and expectation-shattering art, though Second Line's tempered grandiosity ultimately leaves her ambition underserved.

While not as immediate as its predecessor, Void solidifies KEN Mode as one of Canada's most important heavy acts, a band that doesn't just rely on brute force to affect its audience.

Perhaps it's just the associative properties, but it feels like Jenny from Thebes manages to truly distill the manic energy of the Mountain Goats' formative phase into a maturing yet vital shape, giving it a place in the upper reaches of their pantheon.

Though still world-weary as ever, Del Rey is, on Blue Banisters, for the first time diaristic and ad hoc. This album is a stunner.

The fact that Stetson can draw such varied sonic references together in one cohesive display of virtuosity makes him a national treasure. ... Genius.

MeYouWeYou is an ambitious and confident record from a band with enough smarts to keep one foot in the electronic realm while letting the other roam free.

MassEducation is hardly a necessary addition to St. Vincent's repertoire, but it is nevertheless an interesting and worthwhile listen for fans.

The 11 pieces featured on The Flower and the Vessel are surprisingly complex, given Atkinson's delicate approach to her music. It is a powerful combination; she's able to present work that is at times genuinely difficult, but because it's performed with such careful subtlety, there isn't a single sharp edge to be found on the album's 70 minutes.

Calling Gigaton a return to form is a matter of expectations: diehards will claim they never faltered, while fans who checked out 20 years ago, when things got weird, will find lots to like but little to love. Perhaps the most notable group likely to be inspired are Pearl Jam themselves; too long in the rock hinterlands, the band finally seem reacquainted with their creative powers.

While this album is masterful in a number of ways, it's Thao's confessional element that ties everything together.

Slow Focus was solely produced by Fuck Buttons; a decision that shows how confident, individualistic and fearless this duo have become in a short time.

With this release, Locrian have created a gorgeous piece of musical architecture and filled it with unquiet ghosts.

Too often, they rely on imitation of their influences, rather than pushing the genre forward in a compelling way.

The heart of this record is a furious commitment to survival. It's gutting. It's heartbreaking. And it's pretty goddamn beautiful.

Stripped-down in concept, and impenetrable in execution, I've Seen All I Need to See is perhaps the purest summation of the Body's artistry. Harnessing the core of their heart of darkness, King and Buford continue to blaze trails with immersive antipathy.

Mythopoetics may be Rose's most approachable album, but that just means that the world has finally caught up with Half Waif's wide-lens world.

On Talk Memory, BADBADNOTGOOD find likeminded collaborators ready to challenge and compliment them at every turn, resulting in a new evolution for the trio.

The record's first two-thirds are very well-paced, from bashfully stoned ballads to instrumental to extended Floydian romp. It makes it all the stranger to see the album fall apart toward the end, where indistinct sanguine ballads are sent to die.

Strut of Kings requires more than just a first go-through, as much of the album could have benefitted from moving past the "first thought, best thought" rubric. Although it seems crazy to say, this is an actual Guided by Voices album that could have benefitted from an editor.

Queens of the Stone Age dial back their intensity and step up their groove to develop a new sound for the end of the world on In Times New Roman…. For better or worse, it's clear that the band are not the same alt-rock anthem-makers they were in the Y2K era.

Golden Sings That Have Been Sung is a personal best for Walker, innovation for the genre and in general, just a damn good listen.

Unsettling and compelling in equal measure, Colonial Patterns is an album that not only requires repeat listens for it to slowly get under your skin, but one that leaves you little choice but to let it do so, like a sore tooth you just can't stop fiddling with.

The band had already pushed well beyond their initial territory with Nearer My God. Draw Down the Moon transports them out of that world entirely and into a galaxy of their own.

Broken Knowz does hit a few snags, with some tracks pushing the six-to-eight-minute mark and remaining pretty much static throughout (single "Knowledge of Selfie" comes to mind, the eight-and-a-half-minute track perhaps mirroring the constant repetition in our self obsession), but its shorter, more contained tracks override and stand out, showcasing what Daniel has to offer.

Cut Worms' music might not be as immediate as Andy Shauf's, or as inventive as Whitney's, but for listeners who miss the time when songwriters wrote actual songs, this album should not be overlooked.

On 2018's King of Cowards they proved they were a truly forward-thinking doom act, and on Viscerals they've proved it wasn't a fluke. They just need to shed a few more layers before they are ready to assume their final form.

There's a mature artistry wide awake beneath the concept. A thorough attention to detail and an obvious reverence for its anachronistic references pay off, conjuring an atmosphere that's as eerie as it is familiar.

First Demo is the closest thing to a new release that we're probably ever going to get. It's also the most interesting insight into the band since the Steve Albini demos for In On The Kill Taker leaked.

Segall may not be bouncing off the walls on Sleeper, but its decided shift shows his range and ability to continue churning out great releases at an alarming speed.

While ψ certainly isn't for everyone, it's nonetheless an important album that strives to get us to think outside the boom box.