Unraveling is cut from a richer, darker cloth than their earlier works, making it a bold departure and a tense new direction well worth exploring.

Man Machine Poem is the Tragically Hip's most cohesive release since at least Music @ Work.

Wall falls on the folky side of the Americana divide, generally, and fans of Townes Van Zandt (whom he covers here) will be well served for sure. But there're some nods to Jerry Jeff Walker, David Allen Coe and others in the shambling troubadour tradition scattered throughout the record, a rare, confident, and remarkable debut from a talented newcomer.

Alvvays' music might not be particularly timely, but great songwriting never goes out of style.

Poppy Ackroyd chooses to move at a efficiently percussive pace throughout (best highlighted by the fertile and aptly-named "Time"), giving the album a post-modern atmosphere rarely explored on many classical-inspired albums, making Resolve an album hard to pin down and hard to categorize, but easy to adore.

Parallel Universe Blues is a dreamy, laidback record made for easy listening. It's a great album with a step up in its production. It would be more interesting for Quever to do something a little bit different this time around, but staying true to your roots isn't a bad thing.

It's not that Sneaks' music doesn't take itself seriously, but each song is so well-crafted that it lacks the self-consciousness that could weigh a project like Highway Hypnosis down.

Overall, the songs on record two are smarter, punchier and catchier than the ones the first time around. How Do You Love? is summer pop punk at its finest, music that can no doubt soundtrack the rest of your summer.

Donoghue and Holland continue to be unmoved by the larger cultural forces around them, producing a record that doubles down on their best and, at times, worst impulses.

Instead of collapsing under any pressures with his new band, Mercer enthusiastically pushes back with this album, shrugging off any doubt that he is done reinventing himself as an artist.

Babcock strikes the perfect blend of distress and condemnation in his vocal delivery, expressing righteous indignation at these lived realities.

Rose Mountain could be the album that finally brings these hardworking punkers to a wider audience after nearly a decade of existence, and it would be well deserved.

It's clear that the death of his good friend and musical partner affects Kode9 on a deep level, making Nothing one of the most honest and emotionally challenging electronic releases in recent memory.

What Went Down shows Foals coming into their own and excelling at blending the styles they have explored over previous records to create a varied and textured offering that will add depth to their high-energy live shows.

More Light is not only an all-encompassing trip that shows everything they're capable of, but also the best album they've made since 2000's XTRMNTR.

Ital Tek hasn't completely abandoned his beat-heavy sound, Bodied stands as a brave and inventive direction--something that sounds slightly familiar but even more alien.

Political music only works with a strong point of view, which MUNA lack on this record. That said, it has at least a couple niche hits to round out summer playlists and Pride party sets. Even without the depth, MUNA know how to please a crowd — but the impression is fleeting.

The cleaner sound of Water on Mars introduces a newfound confidence to the music of Purling Hiss and it's certainly a welcome direction.

The handful of breaks from his patented gutter raps aren't enough to compensate for the monotony in his dozen interchangeable guns-and-butter records.

At times Williams nearly overdoes it--he's transformed Billy Fury's "I'm Lost Without You" into an oddly sepia-toned, sweeping string arrangement--but ultimately, it's for the better that he takes these chances.

For a solo debut, Serpentine Prison seems like a natural first step and a safe bet for both the artist's individual ambitions and the comfort of existing fans.

The sonic clarity is improved somewhat, but it's still messy as hell, meaning that Say Yes to Love sounds more like another demo than a proper album.

As a group that have faced their growing pains together, Slow Pulp strike the perfect balance between soft, thoughtful and loud on Yard. Tangled up in nervousness about being either too selfish or too self-pitying, the band finds a way to wring out the drab fabric of discomfort until a bit of beauty trickles out.

On Last Place, the band returns to the same well again, and while there is enough here to sustain some nostalgia, that well seems drier than ever before.

Why Love Now shows Pissed Jeans' songwriting reaching new peaks of awareness and focus, all the while remaining true to their brand of dissonant punk.

As compositionally complex as Eremita is, it's the hunger of the album--the elemental and animal simplicity of the tone--that gives it strength.

Freakout/Release tugs on the bare threads of the moth-eaten sweater of our collective conscience while leaving us dope beats to step to and good thoughts in our heads. You can practically feel the cumulative effect of Joe Goddard microdosing mushrooms, opening the window of perception a tiny crack to let some fresh air in each day. Depression has rarely sounded breezier.

Taken together, Butterfly feels less like a fusion of Daphni and Caribou, and more like an uninhibited manifestation of Snaith's ever-changing tastes and proclivities.

By simply moving with the times, Desaparecidos have managed to skirt that issue entirely, making Payola a surprisingly vital return we never knew we needed.

The Visitor works as a great example of an artist honing his craft in reverse, expertly inserting his distinctive style into a tried-and-true blueprint.

Once adjusted to the band's change in dynamics, you're left with the distinct feeling that this is perhaps their most engrossing effort since the Young Team's debut.

Though a bit of a slog at points, what could have easily been a 16-track collection of Griffin's ambition becoming his downfall, is a worthwhile look at the multifaceted nature of his musical brain. It's worth sticking around for.

By taking his time and falling in and out of love he ended up with I Know What Love Isn't, an album worth waiting another five years for.

The record smartly connects sound with weight and movement without ever having to coerce the listener with heavy guitars or mountains of feedback.

It's obvious he has a consummate ear for quality and potential. Listeners who share these sensibilities should be all over this release.

The end result is proof that traditional instruments can work incredibly well with electronics, although it might take two legends to pull it off.

From the prog-rock storm cloud of "Back to Rock," to the metallic disco stomp of "Worst Comes to Worst" and "C'est parce que j'm'en fous" or the slate grey dissonance of "Lead Sister," the record is a delirious reconfiguring of '70s and '80s pop textures.

Ghetto Gods was created through a plague and a racial reckoning. So, it's understandable that the fun factor and the tempo have been dialled down. Heavy is the pen. Still, when those heroic ghosts and EarthGang pop in synchronicity, the music is downright out of this world.

The first half of the album is presented with the clean and stripped down grain of early Karate songs, but the feel is less their trademark over-caffeinated tension and more suburban dad that used to be in punk bands jamming to Thin Lizzy songs with his buddies in the car port. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it's not very remarkable either.

Lyrically and sonically, Ruins helps First Aid Kit gives listeners a mature, realized and often heartbreaking version of this young band's oeuvre.

There's something inexplicable about Purity Ring's marriage of Montrealer Corin Roddick's haunted, bass-heavy hip-hop-tronic production to Haligonian Megan James's prim alto croon, something that transcends what is traditionally accepted as "good" music.

IDLES are at their best when they know their limits and play to their strengths.

Fiddle, accordion and plenty of steel guitar frame her pure voice, while the fact that this was recorded over just two days helps account for the freshness of the sound.

Stunt Rhythms is by far an auditory treat.

for fans that have been waiting for a new chapter in the sound of the Flatliners, look no further than Dead Language; it speaks much louder than anything they've done previously.

The first two-thirds of this album are nearly flawless.... There are a couple of stumbles down the backstretch, though.

There is eloquence to this anguish, and it is an awful and lovely thing.

These re-workings reaffirm her as a tour-de-force and an example of a truly one-of-a-kind musician whose music stands at the crossroads of high art and popular music.

The resemblance between J.D. Wilkes and the Legendary Shack Shakers is presumed, but Wilkes fixes his mistakes in After You've Gone with Fire Dream.

A committed listen to O'Rourke's latest iteration reveals the piece to be understatedly eloquent, its movements and progressions restrained yet effective.

Returning to their signature twinkling arpeggiated synths on the bulk of the record's nine chunky tracks, the band hearken back to a pre-Merriweather AnCo era, serving up some of the most accessible and least jarring tunes from the full ensemble since 2009 (save for 2020's Bridge to Quiet EP).

With no shortage of hooks and crescendos, Wonderland continues to revel in the spirit of TTA, demonstrating more greatness by this industry anomaly.

Taken on its own, in an era where most artists make albums a third of its length, the EP feels like a daunting endurance test. But the deeper you dig into Perverts and Ethel Cain's world, the more rewarding the experience.

The result is an adventurous but inconsistent affair that suggests Clams Casino has plenty of ideas — and perhaps his masterpiece--still in him.

Mechanically, the hooks that adorned Shadow of a Doubt are largely absent, though Gibbs' increased attention to melody that was displayed on the aforementioned 2015 LP remains.

The album's ability to blend genres results in an unique and alluring archive of sound — a strong coming-out party for the Baltimore native.

There's a lot to unpack here, and as a result, SweetSexySavage feels a bit overstuffed at times; numbers like "Thank You" and "Hold Me By the Heart" are expressive in nature but aren't lasting. But by getting intensely personal, Kehlani adds a human side to the recordings that's multilayered and unapologetically self-determined.

Arctic Thunder is an honest, heavy and crushing effort.

The record still meanders around a bit too much, in the way instrumental music can, not quite sure where it's heading when it should be soaring. When it does soar though, it hits some pretty giddy heights.

With the exception of the title cut, which is among the band's best-ever songs, Hug of Thunder isn't a life-changing album. That said, it's a case of a classic group sticking to their guns and highlighting what made us love them in the first place.

It took three records and 10 years for the band to refine their sound within the recent shoegaze renaissance, but The Great Dismal is without a doubt one of the genre's modern classics.

When Royal Thunder pull things in and keep them snappy, they're heading more towards Rival Sons turf, and that's a good place to be.

Stuffed with guitar histrionics, Cheatahs do fall prey to hero-worship, but they nevertheless deliver an album worthy of its influences.

Moh Lhean is a stellar album that serves as a portrait of the artist as a not-quite-so-young man who's still finding weird new ways to pose age-old questions.

On Warmth, Blondes haven't drastically improved on their sound, but they feel at home delivering ten more high-quality textural cuts.

Fans will still recognize his inimitable approach to propulsive off-kilter rhythm and dissonant timbres, organized into fluid yet alien structures, but the sound is deeper, and its inherent joy all the more resonant.

A LA SALA is an endlessly rewarding album. There's always something new to be discovered in its haze, a whispered lyric between the layers, a little pebble of meaning waiting to be overturned.

As much as these songs hit upon Mudhoney's winning elements, there's a lack of swing in the band's step.

While the tracks are still heavily Black Sabbath-influenced, unfiltered doom, they don't live up to the expectations of what Wino-era Saint Vitus should be capable of.

Now, Then & Forever is a more than worthy addition to the Earth Wind & Fire catalogue.

Though the triumph of 1000 Days is its fusion of light and dark, there are some moments that feel out of place: the murky noise on instrumental "Dovetail" is a bit harrowing against the gentle acoustics on the title track, while "Little Dream," a 38-second spurt of woozy punk, appears and disappears out of nowhere.

A very cohesive, if slightly precious, album.

Nostalgia may still cloak OMD's early work in an impenetrable aura, but this album shows a band at the top of their game.

Like any good folk record, The Nocturne Diaries explores timely social and political issues, with songs about troubled youth and abuse survivors, but these pieces lack the raw immediacy that makes politically-tinged folk music work.

On Plastic Anniversary, Matmos make a perfectly indestructible album from pure indestructible chaos.

This EP is more sketchbook than fully realized piece of art, a placeholder between full-lengths designed to keep the band in the cultural conversation.

Planet Her has no skips, not even the previously released singles. It showcases many sides to Doja but remains cohesive — if you don't consume it in its entirety, you'll definitely miss out on truly understanding her world.

As there's been no sign of new material from Paradinas in the past half-decade, Challenge Me Foolish is just interesting and familiar enough to keep µ-Ziq fans satiated, even if it is inferior to Royal Astronomy.

While Unfidelity isn't the greatest or most ambitious album in the Edwards canon, it certainly sounds the prettiest, making it a perfect port of entry for interested listeners with sensitive palates.

With Black's mystifying decision to release all of the material alphabetically (rather than chronologically) alongside the lack of extensive liner notes and the inclusion of a mostly disappointing bonus disc (comprised of outtakes from 2002's Black Letter Days), The Complete Recordings feels less celebratory than perfun

It's still a bit distant and aloof — and ultimately too tame for its own good — but Chronicles of a Diamond finds the band heading in more interesting directions. It is, in every sense of the word, a vibe.

While Big Red Machine lacked immediate standouts, it was intriguing for its ponderous excursions.

Yes, Native Invader is an effectual statement by an artist who has built her career on making them, but at times it feels a little restrained in its tone compared to some of her most memorable work.

Mission of Burma continue to create inspired, groove-laden post-rock that threatens to overshadow the acts they've influenced at every turn.

Long Slow Dance is a record designed to earn them new fans, but also lose some old ones by ditching the scratchy, unpolished production of their previous work.

Realized with the help of Bird's fabulous backing band, the Hands of Glory, the arrangements on Things Are Really Great Here, Sort Of… are ornate and thoughtful, highlighting both the brilliant Americana song writing of the originals and the sweetly soulful execution of Bird and his band.

The band manages not to compromise their sound, but on The Black Market, the formula is growing stale.

Every song justifies its spot: the Allen Ritter-produced "Drippin'" serves as a standout, exhibiting a staccato delivery and manic yelling, both of which are new to his already vast sonic vocabulary.

Awakening isn't going to change anyone's life, but Sacred Reich sound like they're having fun, and on thrash records like this one, that can be worth its weight in gold.

The three distinct movements on display lead into each other, as if in a singular narrative.

Followup Hello, I'm Doing My Best offers up more hook-filled, crisply produced radio rock with plenty of grit and soul from Barter, who remains a compelling presence throughout.

This is an assured return.

KICK ii manages symmetry and catchiness despite its descents into the bizarre. ... But for all her experimentation and chaotic tangents, it is clear in KICK ii that she is acutely aware of the balance necessary to build a bop.

Guitarists Trevor Peres and Ken Andrews' tones are more menacing than ever, and Donald Tardy's intense, skull-shaking drums are perfectly captured. While vocalist John Tardy's screams have obviously aged since Obituary's early days, they still sound powerful enough to get the job done, and the entire band plays with a locked-in ferocity that never sounds robotic or artificial.

GRIP is more than just a showcase for the return of Black queer spaces. It’s a celebration of the relationships — passionate, platonic, lasting, fleeting, loving, lustful — that these spaces foster.

By shedding any cool pretence and steering directly into the skid of adult alternative cheese, the Killers have followed a lifetime of perfect songs and made their first truly great album.

By focusing on the scars that aren't always visible on the surface, Crystal Castles have delivered their most consistent album yet.

Their third full-length, Scholars, reflects the modernization their latest instruments have undergone (Arx allows them to trigger percussion, change instrument effects, and control vocal harmonies with the push of an arcade button), keeping their wholly distinct sound while embracing digital and synth-based instrumentation.