The more I listen to it, the more that Infinity of Now sounds like the album I wish Portishead would finally get around to making. Given how much the Heliocentrics continue to advance with each album, it's possible the general public may end up forgetting Portishead entirely. They may not be pioneering a movement, but the Heliocentrics do something no one else can, and it is worthy of the loftiest praise.

While White Jesus Black Problems is certainly an album that prompts further discovery of its deeper layers, it is also liberating in its musical profundity.

A modest five-song EP, from its pared-down arrangements to its monochromatic album cover, Silent Hour/Golden Mile is a surprisingly cohesive release that begs for repeat spins.

Manically happy, infectiously danceable and too clever by half, if 1991 does one thing, it proves that Banks's breakout hit, "212," was no fluke.

These songs feel ripped from sets you'll most likely never see, as the technical skill of Villalobos conspicuously reminds the listener of the less boring record it could have been.

A little more variety certainly would flesh out the band's releases, but as it stands these 15 songs fit together nicely, giving the impression of one deliriously long writing session.

Tyler's most musically and lyrically focused effort to date.

With Chaos for the Fly, Grian Chatten has proven that he's not only worth his salt for leading one of the biggest UK bands in the world right now, but that he has the erudition to create fantastic music without his Fontaine D.C. mates.

µ20 gives this now-classic label the classy tribute it deserves.

This release has the same charge as the early entries of Ali Hassan Kuban or Konono No. 1, both who set the bar for raw energy. The colonial demarcations of Africa have a lot to answer for, but this fusing of Songhai, Fulani, Hausa and Tuareg peoples has created gifts worth having. This is amazing music.

The album benefits from the presence of a diverse array of musicians and also showcases Veirs' talent as a singer/songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, and Martine's skills in percussion as well as production. My Echo is not so much about emptiness as it is about how far one's sound can travel.

Impera is a solid album and an obvious next step in Ghost's career. It's bittersweet to see the campy Satanic days firmly behind the band, but any old-school fan should still be proud to see what the band has achieved, and it's clear that Impera is the album Ghost needed to take their career to the next level.

This album — through its stirring, stripped-back guitar music and syllabus of cultural touchpoints — limns a path to that solace, and locates it alongside the toil and trouble that underlies rock 'n' roll's still-unfolding history.

It is minimalist yet lush, hopeful yet rooted in a stark and sometimes grim reality.

There are moments here where she falls into a nice pocket that the listener might wish she'd remain in for a little while longer.

Anicca is an album that stands alone, reaching above and beyond expectation.

Like any secret, it is sometimes sharp and poignant, sometimes mundane. And yet, in its best moments, it becomes a secret worth hearing.

Just because How Is It That I Should Look at the Stars is unadorned doesn't mean it feels unfinished. By design, these songs are understated but Lindeman's voice is so strong and incredibly beautiful that what she gives you is fulsome. Paired with the album's multitudinous lyrical details, Lindeman delicately succeeds in fitting the world into her songs.

Cancer For Cure is El-P's most accessible album yet, and with the right push it could be his breakthrough release.

There are certainly lulls among the 18 tracks, moments of randomness, and even an occasional lack of direction. But if Cline is indeed trying to conjure a feeling of romance through instrumental jazz, he's done just that on this record.

Instrumentally, this record doesn't do anything revelatory that distinguishes it from their other releases. However, in maintaining their usual glitchy post-punk instrumentals with this clearer lyrical concept, the duo emphasize the emptiness of the automated economy.

New voices and ideas fading in and out like ghosts, it's an ambitious second act that meaningfully departs from the proven formula that earned the project early buzz, all to invigorating effect.

Kvelertak aren't creating any surprises on Splid, they are simply doing it better than they ever have before, showing they are greater than all the individual parts of their sound.

Mama, You Can Bet! highlights Muldrow's encyclopedic knowledge of jazz, hip-hop, funk, R&B and soul, making for a stylistically eclectic album. The 15-song sequence, however, is eminently cohesive, each track building on or seemingly responding to the previous one.

Gone are the crushing riffs and transitions, replaced with subdued progressions. It's a real blight on much of the record, unable to keep the listener enthralled or interested.

Rare, Forever feels less like an album and more like a series of single, punctuated thoughts; or one man's long meditation. It's a little jumpy, and pulses with frenetic energy. He oscillates between dancefloor bangers ("Dumbo") and languid transitions ("Allchea Vella Amor").

While it's missing some of the frantic, desperate immediacy of God's Country, Cool World sees Chat Pile exploring their sound and aggressively antagonizing the world around them.

Snares Like a Haircut might be their most accessible and uplifting record yet; released in a time of social decay, it's a statement that rings loud and clear.

A Beach House record is best experienced like a shooting star, thrilling for its relative scarcity and singular propulsion. Once Twice Melody feels more like a sunset than a shot of light from the universe's depths — magnificent and enormous, yes, but also familiar.

NO certainly caters to longtime fans, especially ones who rather be pummeled with noise instead of pulled into new realms, which may disappoint fans of their more experimental songs. But their cacophony continues to provide comfort, especially in these strange times.

Nearly a decade on, Jamie xx proves he still has the X factor. It was worth the wait.

Electric Lady Sessions perhaps best functions as the defining calling card of a post-reunion LCD Soundsystem.

If BLACK METAL 2 is less Blunt-as-provocateur and more Blunt-as-storyteller, then both longtime fans and brand-new listeners owe him the opportunity to paint that morose picture in equal measure. Regardless of your familiarity with Blunt's music, you're bound to be rewarded.

The result is one of 2014's tightest releases.

Book of Ryan is a welcome origin story, an issue zero that leaves no stone unturned.

Sitting at a painfully short seven songs, the project is every bit as good as it should be; this is genuinely the reintroduction to both artists the world deserves.

Cohesive and well structured, Freddie is a clear standout for the season and quite possibly, the year. And Gibbs didn't have to rent out the Louvre to do it.

Trouble Will Find Me burns slowly, but melds together more seamlessly with each listen.

A fascinating album where creative impulses and naiveté are filtered through a strong sense of aesthetics with newfound confidence. It's the sound of a unique artist finding her footing and stepping in the zone.

Taken as a whole, this is the kind of record that will infect your life, to paraphrase "Sepsis," one of the record's standouts. I, for one, am down to let it kill me.

Wrapping The Practice of Love in avant-pop instrumentation, Hval nimbly threads complex sentiments through its prismatic shades of sound.

Warm and meditative, PHASOR’s softness is its greatest strength, extolling the virtues of patience, silence, touch and exploration. It’s a wonderfully complex album belied by its gentle minimalism.

The album is a passionately written and deeply moving meditation on loss, and Touché Amoré have never been better as a band.

Garage, house and techno are twisted into strange new forms over the 70-odd minutes that UFO holds us enthralled for.

A more challenging and elusive listen than the felted atmospherics of Chance of Rain or In Situ, this is Halo at her most artful and poetic.

A set of tapes wound with energy, suffusing the record's calculated structure with flashes of organic movement.

The Montclair, New Jersey's band's sound--off-the-cuff, loose heart-on-sleeve indie-rock cut with Americana--is the perfect vessel for that kind of premature twilight, anxiety and loss. Above all else, it feels so goddamned natural.

After producing such a powerful, chimeric record, which will unquestionably stand as their masterpiece, there's no question that KEN Mode are currently at the peak of their collective talents.

With Blue Skies, the production is crisper, the melodies are sharper, the moods hit deeper and Dehd seem ready to conquer the indie rock world — from Glasgow to Chicago, and everywhere in between.

While there are tracks on No Shape that bow in that direction. But these nips and tucks to the Perfume Genius sound serve a common goal: showcasing Hadreas, who shines bright like a diamond throughout.

Sulphur English is an extremely meditative album that requires further listens to appreciate everything that it does, one of those rare musical experiences one can have with a metal record, and it's not to be missed.

A seething but persevering energy flows intensely CACTI.

Excavation is a brilliant piece of work, one best enjoyed actively with a premium set of headphones, in solitude.

Though not nearly as essential as their first two albums, Long Live finds Atreyu reaching higher than they have in almost a decade.

The record is a perfect amalgamation of everything they've done across their career, with a few new sounds tossed in for good measure.

Melee is loaded front to back with depressive episodes manifested in the mosh pit. ... Yet, by the end of the album, all the words have been chanted, all the guitars have stopped shrieking, all the cymbals have stopped crashing and all energy has been exhausted. That's when a rich, lush string orchestra takes over, capping the whole thing with a sort of post-credits epilogue. It's like a calm sea after a thunderstorm.

Though there's not much variation in volume or tempo, listening carefully to the record's subtle weather shifts is deeply satisfying; it's a dream state, enveloped by Uchis' inimitable voice.

With Dark Superstition, Gatecreeper have cemented their place as one of modern metal's most visceral, exciting and endlessly-listenable bands, and the album is a more than worthy addition to their already-accomplished catalogue.

Blood Bitch won't reward casual listeners, but it offers plenty to those who want to get a little lost.

Down to Believing can unquestionably be described as Moorer's breakup album, but this would sell short its intensely personal complexity.

As an album, Shadow Kingdom is an alternate universe that reflects another side of Bob Dylan's craft and creative muses. It's not a funhouse mirror reflection per se, but it's definitely really fun the more you look at it.

A spectacular followup to 2017's critically acclaimed Drunk. ... It Is What It Is manifests as a beautiful ebb and flow of emotional states, philosophical musings and plain old comedy. It doesn't drown itself in existential dread or proffer any clear-cut solutions, but just exists on its own plane.

The arrangements roll and soar while leaving room for more intimate revelations, which is where Western Stars really finds its stride.

It's Kanye West baring his fangs, over-sharing and consciously grappling with this over-reaching, over-indulging beast within.

Wildheart has its mushy spot (see the superfluous "Destinado a Morir"), but on the whole, it stands as one of the year's standout efforts.

The harmonica, piano and clean sounding guitars characterize The Last Man Standing. The smart and witty lyrics adorn the western swing album with an acoustic blues rock and rockabilly shine.

It's at the intersection of curiosity and vulnerability where she concocts her best work. Gentle Confrontation learns and preserves artifacts of the mind, appreciating special moments that many leave lost in time.

RBCF are a welcome addition to the range of Australian guitar bands taking the world by storm, their confident debut an exploration of angular v. melodic guitars and energetic rhythms.

In an industry where the idea of a meritocracy is as foreign as a retirement plan, Bryan James has achieved the near impossible. In My Mind is the most earnest soul album in years.

If you need an entry point into an incredibly potent piece, Gibbons and company offer a take on Symphony of Sorrowful Songs that lingers.

Empath is by no means a shortcut to deciphering all of Townsend's output, but its incredibly hard not to marvel at the way in which he wields these influences to exceed the confines of his "progressive" qualifier--not to mention the sheer enormity of it all.

Quiet Signs is a breeze of an album that somehow hits you like a ton of bricks. Just another enigmatic turn for Jessica Pratt.

Ware has never sounded more loose and confident — the icy diva that presided over much of Devotion is gone. Despite the flirtatious, non-specific lyrics — Ware said she wanted to make an album for people to have sex to — there's a better sense of her personality and humour this time around.

The extravagant and sensual Prelude to Ecstasy is their wine-stained toast to finding beauty in decadence, its cup runneth over with promise.

Though a bit short at 36 minutes, there isn't a weak track to be heard.

Cronin offers new experiments on MCII, but errs just enough on the side of caution to create a fantastic pop record.

Insula is a cerebral, introspective record offering an abrupt turn from pigeonholing that tags grime as street music, the melodic refrains often more baroque and fantastical than they are rough and hard-hitting.

Owen's second album is nonetheless a triumph of soundscapes, an album not meant to analyze and decipher but to daydream, sleepwalk and stargaze through.

As much as it is possible to describe the hissing whispers and supernova roars John Haughm's vocal performance, or the galactic wonder of Don Anderson's guitars, the sticky and celestial spirals of Jason Walton's bass lines, or the powerful alchemical engine of Aesop Dekker's drumming, together they form something greater: a massive, sublime universe unto itself.

It is big, bold and absolutely electrifying.

Omens is more of an extended jam session, with the four dudes of Elder playing off each other's musicality, never getting ahead of themselves or losing the plot.

These experiments help keep the record sounding fresh, but the best moments come when Case stays within her wheelhouse and swings away.

Iit's her softer singles that add a new dimension to her artistry. While Cardi B's own relationship with Migos's Offset has been thrown into the spotlight, Invasion of Privacy feels like her Lemonade moment, one that magnifies her insecurities for public consumption.

Skeleton Closet is an album of songs that are thoughtful, catchy, carefully hopeful.

Structural concerns aside, Singularity still finds Hopkins exploring sonic textures as deeply as ever. It's an album that, in its best moments, finds one of electronic music's great minds operating in peak form.

Simply put, cannabis is the medium through which this album should be listened to; otherwise, its greatness will never be revealed to the non-believers. ... When sober, 14 minutes for a song is a little long; stoned, it's not long enough.

The textural depth of ANIMA grips, unlike past solo outings, and is ultimately even more rewarding when played on headphones.

The end result is likely the most dynamic and entertaining Jicks record thus far. You can hear Malkmus's love of classic and kraut rock in these crafty arrangements, which each get to a place where they truly shine. Hard.

The music is raw, melodic and explosive, and captures the inner reflection one must undertake to properly envision the future.

All Nerve remains stuck firmly in a box of the band's own making, both to their benefit (this is most definitely version of the Breeders fans know and love) and detriment (a couple songs are kind of boring).

Sometimes, Forever is a rich and varied album, with ultramodern production that never tramples the influences at play.

While it loses some of her past work’s joyous electricity, it reveals something truer. This is Whack’s world after all, we’re just lucky enough to live in it.

Low's latest finds Sparkhawk and Parker at a thrillingly creative and intrepid peak, building off their experimental blueprint laid out with their 2015 LP Ones and Sixes and fully realized on Double Negative. Although HEY WHAT falls squarely in between the two, it's safe to say that no one is making music that sounds remotely similar to what Low is giving us.

The reason why Ex Hex Rips is so triumphant is that it easily attains its simple goal of presenting a total blast for the listener to savour. Or to take the title's bait, Ex Hex Rips rips.

On Listening to Pictures (Pentimento Volume One), it's a treat to find Jon Hassell still fascinated and engrossed in the style of music he helped create.

Listening to Look to the East, Look to the West feels at once redemptive and healing; Camera Obscura have found their way through the dark.

Thanks for the Dance is a fitting goodbye to a figure who, whether they've been in your life for one day, one year or a lifetime, made a tremendous impact on their craft. A beautiful reprise to a song of love or hate. The pleasure was all ours, Leonard.

This flow is a result of the group's ability to balance technical shredding and melodic atmospheric pieces; it is that sonic harmony that's responsible for the positive vibes resonating from The Migration.