If you wait, there is a reward for those interested in committing to a whole album; a final refrain. This is the reality of taking chances — and, as the protracted ending of "Match-Lit" proves, Case refuses to compromise for her artistic vision for digestibility or easy answers.

Geese build up to the album's conclusion: a charged and accelerating train ride, 16 stops from Brooklyn into the darkest parts of "Long Island City Here I Come," Winter issuing poetic threats that crosswire Bob Dylan and Van Morrison into a barroom bible-mishmash scored by screaming guitars. It's a thrilling exit point, full of ecstasy and menace, but it still feels a little like dress-up rather than lived-in.

In constructing such an ornate snarl of emotion and eloquence, Le Bon has effectively created in Michelangelo Dying a bummer album that doesn't actually require any wallowing to digest.

Full of complicated emotions and sombre nostalgia, it confronts the darkness and the details, the granular and grandeur, the trivialities and the everything. That's just life, and that's just Wednesday: an exercise in horrible, wonderful contradiction.

There's a contentedness here; a playfulness; a willingness to be silly. Instead of shying away from the shadows of life, the band embrace the dark with the light, relishing in it all. It's such a sharp contrast to their earlier work, this sense of acceptance with a knowing smile.

If 2023's Blame My Ex was the Beaches testing out new dimensions of their sound, they've honed it on No Hard Feelings, cementing themselves as a band that's earned a place in the public consciousness internationally, possibly for years to come.

While it provides plenty of tell, there's not nearly enough show.

While her previous two solo records did not quite reach the high bar set by her work with Paramore, this record is in a tier with the group's absolute best, and is Williams's first solo masterpiece.

This is a new, astronomically high benchmark in a catalogue comprised of fantastic bodies of work — and a rare moment where you can feel a generational artist at the height of their powers in real time.

For this seventh album in just under a decade, the duo continue their upward trajectory, finding new and casually complex ways of expressing their musical minds.

While it may not reach the heights of Acid Rap or Coloring Book, it doesn't feel as far removed — and, in some moments, indicates that those heights are still within reach.

Nothing feels forced; rather, the album gently unfurls at a languid pace. DeMarco remains the relatable everyman, his laidback delivery happily coexisting alongside his ever-present mastery of the titular instrument ("Rock and Roll," "Holy").

Even though it remains an abstract surprise album, Ain't No Damn Way! flows coherently, making for an impressively seamless addition to Kaytra's ever-expanding discography. Most importantly, the record's meaningful callbacks solidify that he has yet to lose sight of his creative North star.

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

Alex G is one of the most distinctive characters working in indie rock today, and despite some of its shortcomings, the songs on Headlights still prove that. But rather than being a victory lap, Alex G's first major label record feels self-destructive. Maybe he's not quite ready for the burden of prosperity.

Virgin is the kind of album that makes you realize something you hadn't really before: until now, Lorde was operating at an emotional distance. .... Virgin feels like a rebirth.

If Women in Music Pt. III cracked the door open, I quit stands in the threshold, taking stock of what's worth carrying forward.

Phantom Island is a mature reflection on grappling with success. Musically, King Gizzard may never step foot in the same stream twice, but it's clear they're here for each other wherever the current takes them.

The album is an earnest, succinct group of tracks that freely flow into each other, and [b]y the end of its 33-minute runtime, every song deserves its spot on the tracklist.

Turnstile remain the ambassadors we need, and their latest album is proof of their lasting legacy.

Something Beautiful does, of course, sound beautiful — Shawn Everett's production is widescreen and larger than life, but still remembers to dial things back when needed, although maybe not always quite enough (Cyrus is an impressive balladeer! "The Climb" was a moment!) — but it also rings hollow.

It's a worthy continuation of the unfulfilled upswing they were on when they called it quits feels like an undeserved bonus. More is unlikely to win Pulp many new fans, but that would be presumptuous to really want (and undignified to aim for) when you can otherwise hit the mark so authentically.

The result is a sound that is assured and ebullient, lively as a coiled spring releasing its kinetic energy until it's exhausted.

As direct as it is complex, Instant Holograms is an album of pure sonic pleasure.

"Waterproof Mascara" is surely one of the most harrowing rap tracks in recent memory. .... Full of horror and self-described Afro-pessimism, GOLLIWOG is frequently grim. And yet, it's not a difficult listen, since woods is simply too clever of a writer for him not to tickle my sense of humour.

While Teitelbaum's vocals occasionally teeter on nonchalance or disaffection, she knows how to balance these quieter moments with bursts of passion, making them strike even harder.

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

Horny, outrageous, delicate, queer and poised to rip flesh at any moment, Pirouette is the sound of a band at the height of its powers.