Loney, Noir is a beautiful serving of melancholia, and one of the most interesting and fully realised home recordings I’ve heard in a long time.

Let's Wrestle has developed a studied, wide-ranging brute that embraces their oddball wit to a greater degree.

It does have some darker moments, but this is a record that is fun, invigorating and ultimately very catchy.

European Heartbreak is charming, clever and quietly confident. If the world really is about to fall apart, then Amber Arcades has produced something that is more than a worthwhile distraction.

Why Bonnie doesn't break its established mold, but it does sustain an element of surprise throughout that bodes well for whatever comes next.

Daughter seem trapped within the confines of their influences.

What is clear is that the Arctic Monkeys of 2011 have produced, probably by a significant margin, the best British Rock 'n' Roll album you will hear this year, and on top of that there's the comforting sense that Suck It And See will only age well.

It's in how she alters her ghostly, choral-like voice that she's able to elevate her entire environment.

Fortunately, his two other pieces on the record, Mallet Quartet, and Dance Patterns are nothing short of the flowery style that make Reich's music so rich. WTC 9/11, on the other hand, just sounds muddy.

What's most important is that the album marks her out as a talent to watch, more than able of holding her own against such forebears and, in turning in work as simple yet creepily perfect as Homeopathic or Twin Song, proves that she's more than worthy of our love in her own right.

The songs are consistently decent, even if they don’t have the edge and the energy of their Comfort sisters, but the vast majority are ultimately forgettable.

Boarding House Reach isn’t the easiest of listens, and at times sounds like an over-excited White has just pressed 'record' and let his absurdity run amok. However, its strong moments just about outnumber the less appealing ones, and White’s own creative juices are still being harvested in abundance.

Planet Of Ice marks Minus The Bear at the top of their game.

Rather than going for broke, Depeche Mode eked out a half-decent release that doesn't do either the theme or their abilities any justice. It may be called Spirit, but this album is sorely lacking in soul.

It's hard to underestimate how big and strange some of this massive album is.

For their first official release on Secretly Canadian, Bodies of Water sound concise, powerful and eclectic.

Continually tedious and far too long for its own good, 25 25 is a almost hour-long endurance test that refuses to let itself out of the duo’s own heads.

It’s certainly one of the edgier twee recordings in recent years, almost an oxymoron in itself, one that falls short on its promise to channel its internal chaos with sprightly reminiscence.

If he'd played up his vocals over his vitriol, Brutalist Bricks could have been a much better album. Loud and messy may be the hallmarks of hardcore, but showcasing his talents would have made a bigger impact, both musically and politically.

Despite how structurally disciplined it sounds as a whole, their chamber-turned new wave hybrid should suffice for those who couldn’t fathom it from front to back.

Me Moan is a challenging effort that rewards as much as it confounds, and really doesn’t bring us anywhere closer to understanding Gibson’s true guise.

There are at least five tracks here which are a class apart from anything else they’ve written, and hint at a dexterity and professionalism that hadn’t really been previously evident. On the other hand, it’s probably the least consistent of Slow Club’s three albums so far.

While Waysides is unmatched in quality and execution, it sometimes feels a little too neat compared to the lush orchestrations of her breakthrough 2019 LP Bird Songs of a Killjoy. But there are some surprises to behold, coming in late into the album.

Cream is a victim of the times, no more than a mere face in a pop culture marketplace crowded with sexual aggrandizing and salacious controversy. The kind of antics Peaches has built her career on--pushing and pulling at the accepted boundaries, tongue-in-cheek shock value--are now a common rite of passage for artists pushing their edgy shtick.

It is clever and witty like the band is want to be, but when listening to Rant I stopped caring about the lack of instruments and simply enjoyed myself.

Trust ends with Chapman pleading his object of affection to have some faith in him, though it could also be a message to his listeners: setting aside his lackadaisical manner, Chapman really does want you to care about what he thinks.

The 70s soft rock inspirations hit the hardest on two of the most interesting cuts here, Far From Born Again and Bad for the Boys. The two tracks combine a jaunty, easy-listening sheen, with lyrics in the former that discuss sex work positively, and in the latter, that talk about the reckoning of abusive men.

Good as a heartbreak-balm, an above-average way to spend a night in bed or just something to dance with your special lady / man / whatever to, Love is All's latest proves that they can be counted on to bring quality pop, no matter what.

Grace and Lies is at its best when opposing ideas collide into each other.

Loom becomes tiresome as it reaches its second half, and the lack of lyrical clarity, though sincere in execution, balances poorly against the powerful instrumentation.

It’s difficult to avoid making repeated comparisons to Antipodes, but despite the differences in the sounds between the two LPs, the quality and strength of them is the same.

This is by and large a record that moves at its own pace, and a calm one at that.

The album isn’t without its faults--its probably too long, and though the production may differ from other albums, it blurs together somewhat over the course of the album. However, there’s one song on this album that renders all such complaints irrelevant--the title track. None Shall Pass is undoubtedly one of the best things Aesop has ever done

The result is a tighter and more collaborative sounding effort, and it shows throughout the album from the taught disco-funk of Telephone to the sunny and joyous brass-driven lead single U'huh.

While it undoubtedly holds some of the strongest songs of his career, it doesn’t entirely fulfill the promise of a conceptual framework.

After The End is a self-proclaimed pop record with lofty ambitions, after all, and their commitment to a broader aesthetic feels earned and vital.

Taken as a whole, The Soft Pack isn’t exceptionally challenging or memorable, though it does leave space to appreciate a few of its singles.

Operator is a very good debut, impressively original without becoming too inaccessible, and the debut single that dropped three years ago sounds as fresh and as authentic as it ever did.

The good news, at least, is that Phantogram have made a solid album. The bad news is that it spans across their two LPs with plenty of forgettable filler in between.

Whirr crafts their own mold out of their influences, and, with an effort that feels grand and mesmerizing as it does dreary and bleak, Around hits the nail on the head and all those long lost sentiments of not having a shoegaze band to get behind seem to dissipate.

Green continues to take us on a steady ride on Fragments.

Dum Dum Girls have graduated from a class of reverb junkies to becoming potentially one of the most potent and distinct pop bands of our time. End of Daze is on a separate level of artistic creativity and economy.

When it's done well, with diverse influences blended together, it's so easy to like if not love, and as such Get Back instantly feels like a long lost friend.

Her ability on both sides of the mixing deck is on full display throughout Losing, and her latest work strengthens her case as a supremely talented songwriter and producer.

Established fans may have a problem with the ADHD style of Junior, and the album does raise some questions: is it better to be great at one thing or good several things? If you are a well-versed fan of electronica and you know what you like, then this album might not be for you.

They sure had the knack to look through the lens of their younger selves, which makes one think whether keeping it sweet and snappy would’ve suited them better. Regardless of their intent to reach out of their limit, there are bursts of inventiveness in Trouble that make the risk taking worthwhile.

Although it may not sound as groundbreaking as its predecessor, Little Red’s introspection-on-the-dancefloor theme is fascinating enough to sustain multiple records.

What the lyrics lack (and they certainly aren’t bad by any stretch--simply not particularly strong), the vocals mask.

He's given us a lot to unpick, even if the record isn't as cohesive as it ought to be.

It's a testament to their ingenious crafting of familiar sounds that we hear the musical reference points in each of these songs without feeling cheated by the fact that we can pinpoint precisely who they sound like at any given moment.

'One More Time With Feeling's' dynamics shift and her lyrics are vague, but carry a heartfelt sentiment. Far has too little of this and winds up being a mixed bag.

Carter’s default psyche is an afflicted one, and his lyrics commenting on the migrant crisis typically don't pull any punches. On the other hand, his first steps into a more ornate sound on Neon Rust is a welcome change.

Underwhelming ending aside, it’s fair to say that Del Rey (and her collaborators) have more than risen to the challenge of keeping her a part of the pop culture conversation, for all the right reasons.

Some come-backs are fraught with danger, both commercial and artistic. This one is entirely justified.

It achieves a good and meticulously contrived balance that will continue to satisfy the Brooklyn insomniacs, but rarely does it risk doing more.

It's not quite at the level of Without a Sound, Mascis' definitive pop moment, but What Do We Do Now is the closest he's been to showing his more tender side in years.

Compelling and emotionally charged.

With a perfect combination of loose noise and tight melody, Eagulls’ self-titled debut puts the group on the fast track to be taken seriously, even compared to peers on their third or fourth try.

They show the beginnings of great ideas in almost every song, and a few get the full treatment and stay great all the way through. The good songs are very enjoyable, the rest of the album is, unfortunately, pretty forgettable.

Tall Ships are still navigating in search of their ideal destination, and their second voyage may prove to be an even more enriching one.

The tempos vary, sort of, but there’s a mood on this record that’s hard to qualify and never wavers.

Aloha have created an album with a strange feel, Home Acres is dark but it’s not cold. It’s a humid album that aptly demonstrates Aloha’s greatest strengths, but also highlights their weaknesses.

The Runaway Found is to be filed alongside Coldplay, Starsailor and Snow Patrol.

Pop. 1280 are still concerned with the dark underbelly of the human experience, though the sneakily measured Paradise proves that even the most degenerate souls deserve some sanguine aggression, too.

Leave Me Alone is giddy with joy, cackling with sun-drenched vibes and that captivating youthful energy, and it’s impossible to listen to tracks like Easy, Chili Town and San Diego without leeching off it.

Some tweaks are almost imperceptible, but when administered at the right place and the right time, Dusk shows an incidental dynamism that Ultimate Painting haven’t shown before.

It’s Frightening isn’t a bad album in its own right. There are certainly worse things than making a record that’s frequently catchy but not terribly exciting.

All that being said, every track has at least something of interest about it, and with Obscurities managing to squeeze in fourteen of them in less than forty minutes, even the worst never outstay their welcome.

Summer 08 is good work from Mount, and an album with its fair share of corking tracks.

The Bird and the Bee end up sounding like the soundtrack to some glossy drama about a bunch of over privileged kids living in Notting Hill.

Fuckbook is a fantastic, energy-fuelled riot of an album and--if you wish to view it as such--yet another brilliant addition to the embarrassment of riches that is the collected works of Yo La Tengo.

It's cohesive, it's tight and it illustrates the band's continuous depth and attention to subtlety.

Even if this is a by-the-numbers creation, it certainly adopts the same fiery posture that every Burma album encompasses. It just has to be looked upon with a different mindset. So here’s a toast to conviction.

Deeper plunges headlong into its nightmarish source material with feverish petulance, insisting on the authenticity of its own sorrow.

Wondrous Bughouse, with its epic sprawl and quaint curiosity, successfully captures through its music the idea that the smaller you are, the easier you’re dazzled and overwhelmed by the world around you.

Mellow Waves doesn’t immediately grab your attention like some of Oyemada’s past work, but his careful attention to craft remains intact.

You could call it inconsistency, but you can tell they never signed up for the mission of steering the chasm of modern rock music. Instead, they're four guys doing what they want, culling their influences and breathing life into whatever construct emerges. But regardless of where it falls on the spectrum, it's always fun.

Buckner’s songwriting, both in the arrangements and vocals, is laser-focused on the development and exploration of his scorched-earth aesthetic. Together, they project it with grace, refinement, and skill.

Songs like All Blacked Out and Chemical Freeze are suffused with melancholic ambiance, where descending minor chords provide a fullness to their otherwise spare arrangements.

With some of their catchiest songs yet and Gareth's muse in top form, this album stands among their strongest work.

Most of the artists have slipped into their most generic, polite, Obama-supporting personas. However this is not to say the album isn’t enjoyable and featuring so many high caliber artists, almost all the songs are good and some really hit the mark.

Fever Dream may not be the most revolutionary electronic album of the year but as a whole, it's strong, and will prove an enjoyable journey for fans of instrumental hip-hop, triphop and chillwave, as well as anyone who is partial to the occasional moment of dreamy, psychedelic dance.

Sun Airway conducts Soft Fall with a unique command, never straying from its drifting atmosphere even as it continually delivers a batch of catchy, highly replayable songs.

Good but not as good as you might think it is on a song-to-song basis, enjoyable but somewhat less memorable.

Weaves have written a good debut record that is unafraid to take chances, and to an extent, it signifies a band that will only get hungrier with time. There’s still in search mode, though, exceedingly pushing themselves to write clever pop songs that sometimes expose their calculated overconfidence.

Goons Be Gone won’t go down as No Age’s best, but it benefits from its directness.

Moments like Living Up to Let You Down are unforgettable; it’s just a disappointment the rest of the album isn’t even close.

Archive Material is a strong release for fans of Fad or newcomers to Silverbacks, the type of album that feels like it’ll only get better with time.

Overall, Almanac is a good follow up that helps cement the band's holding in the new age of dreamy folk rock.

Save for a handful of forgettable excursions into tampering with a perfectly good formula, it’s a very well-written, cohesive collection of songs.

Common problems and half-assed moneymaker tracks aside, Shaolin vs. Wu-Tang serves as another monument to the effortless style and cool of Rae, and establishes the Chef as the marquee member of the Clan.

It's too long, with too many tracks that go nowhere. But those songs that do work are some of their best in the last couple of decades.

There is nothing abrasive about Strange Weekend, nothing risky, nothing unique; there is instead just a shortage of "Wow!"

An exceptional piece of psychedelic garage rock that never stays in the same place yet manages to still feel consistent as a whole, making this album a true standout amongst Thee Oh Sees' vast discography.

While the better songs sound rough around the edges, their inferior material here sounds scrappy and juvenile.

Newcombe has constructed his most level-headed and consistently engaging record since ...And This Is Our Music back in 2003.

With Stay Home we not only get that genuine approach, but we get songwriting that's been notched up a bit. That alone is worth the cost of admission: The Beets are clearly good songwriters, even if they do happen to get their feet a bit muddy when they stray off the well-beaten path.

It is a solid and adept demonstration of his strengths as a dance producer and his ear for a hook. Roosevelt is intended to pacify the annual, somber, post-festival comedown. Every now and then, we just have to enjoy it simply for what it is, and not what it may lack.