Harlecore is '90s rave held up for review, assessment and full enjoyment, and if there isn't a ton of depth here, the breadth (with Harle essentially exploring four different sub-styles through his various personas) is more than impressive enough to make up for it. It's all pulled off with such glee and energy, that in terms of pure enjoyment, it's very difficult to fault Harlecore.

L.W. may not boast many surprises, but it cements its makers as masters of their realm.

As usual, fascinating choices abound when a lost Bob Dylan session is unearthed (and, excitingly, signalling that maybe there's way more of this kind of stuff to come), but this one feels particularly prototypical and casual, and, with good humour, was intended to warm folks up — to each other and the material — more than get its hypothetical audience hot and bothered.

It's clear from listening to and watching Way Down in the Rust Bucket that this was a truly special occasion that now lives on, in this remarkable new document of Crazy Horse in all its (ragged) glory.

In Ferneaux is everything most Blanck Mass albums are not: patient, subtle and disarmingly low-key. It was made in confinement, but it takes Power to surprising new places.

It's tempting to imagine what it might sound like if Cloud Nothings took these experiments further and gave their sound a more radical reinvention. As it is, The Shadow I Remember perfectly encapsulates everything the band do so well, and hints at what might be to come.

Carnage covers broader range than most of the Bad Seeds' recent records, cramming plenty of Cave's various stylings into a neat, eight-song package. For all of Cave's hunger and glee to return to the foreboding sounds of his past, it's when he opts for pure catharsis and bliss that he album achieves its full power.

Other than a few lapses, the hooks, synths and classical instruments effectively recontextualize Architects' musicianship. For Those That Wish to Exist proves these guys can successfully diversify their sound.

Little Oblivions is generous and giving; it's not only a public display of personal catharsis, but also an act of collective commiseration and an invitation to heal.

Jenkins' winding writing is cerebral and referential, nearly every song capable of opening a Wikipedia rabbit hole. However, much like Norwegian art-pop virtuoso Jenny Hval, she works wonders in the place between heart and mind; her intellectualism is never overbearing, instead revealing a dedication to explaining the unexplainable.

While A Billion Little Lights as a whole is not as elegantly cohesive as Wild Pink's past work, the starry-eyed melodies shine stronger and more confidently than ever.

As the Love Continues is one of them. Already an enduring album, it will surely solidify Mogwai's venerated status as shamans of our collective consciousness.

If art mimics life, then Open Door Policy's musical tension, timely themes and efforts to reimagine the band while remaining authentic deftly capture today's world.

Across its 13 songs, the beats are crisp, the choruses pronounced and the hooks sharp.

Seven albums and 16 years into her music career, Williams seems more confident than ever in doing as she pleases instead of pleasing others.

On TYRON, slowthai sounds more together and present than ever.

Tying ambient soundscapes, borderline IDM and subtle snapshots of traditional music into a coherent, yet distinctive, body of work, this auspicious debut forecasts a promising future for Yu Su. Anyone would be happy to hop in a boat and sail these waters for hours and hours.

While Good Woman is not the most notable stop on the Staves' journey, it retains all of their most delectable elements — heart-hitting harmonies, lovely melodies, and moments of lyrical spark — that have come to define their work.

While this third entry could be classified as largely more of the same, there's enough freshness here to warrant a closer look, especially if you're already a fan of the project.

It is too early to call this the band's best work, as there is so much more to come from this band going forward. For a heavy album full of unexpected surprises, We Are Always Alone is an ideal second full-length from an up-and-coming band.

Sound Ancestors is a mixed bag if ever there was one. It's funky, it's psychedelic, it's jazzy, dirty, clean, and mean. It's Madlib.

The meshing of classically trained and self-taught players adds depth to the band's sound, creating a unique concoction of precise technical skill and raw, almost primal passion, leading to an unpredictable instrumental delight.

Inventive, lush, and propelled by taut rhythms and strings that gust like competing winds, Ignorance matches the subtle drama and sparkling intelligence of Lindeman's writing, exploding her music into opalescent shards.

Medicine at Midnight isn't good because of the ways it pushes the envelope, but because of how upholds the band's status as rock torchbearers. This is the Foos doing what they do best.

The ambitions, expansions, and collaborations on Vertigo Days mostly pay off, sacrificing a little thematic cohesion for the reward of greater variety in sound. It does the good work of forging musical links out of broken global barriers.

With 12 tracks and a runtime of barely more than half an hour, any flaws are minor and the album breezes by. The arrangements may be ambitious, but there's very little pomp or grandeur here; this is just another low-stakes success in a long and varied career.

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.

Thunderstorm Warnings takes everything the Besnard Lakes have ever done well and provides it in abundance. There's nothing here that they haven't done before, but no one else has ever come close to encroaching on the band's niche of colliding intrepid Rush and King Crimson-style prog with the atmosphere of Montreal's storied post-rock scene, so why change now?