The soft-loud-soft dynamics she shuffles throughout provide a welcome songwriting variety, even if the softer side she tries to reason with doesn't convey as much excitement.

Musically, it's by far their most rounded and satisfying album to date.

Yak haven’t reinvented the wheel, but their work is invigorating in its own right.

Coming in at 26 minutes, Twelve Nudes doesn’t hang around and, by design, is a much more modest record than Transangelic Exodus. It rarely matches the highs on last year’s effort, but paired together, it suggests Furman is the midst of a prolific period.

These Are Powers are trying to find their way while building their form as formless as possible.

On a song-by-song basis, this is a consistently solid album.

Despite Live Forever not being perfect, Bartees Strange swings for the fences on every song here. It’s exciting just to watch it unfold in front of your eyes.

To really get the most from Margerine Eclipse, consume it in its entirety in one sitting: songs that appear to be fairly average when dipped into randomly take on new elements when they take their place in the overall sequence.

Modern Art doesn't have the pure pop exuberance of Girlfriend, but it proves to be a welcome addition to a distinguished body of work.

Despite rarely achieving all of what it goes for, it's hard to deny the sheer pleasure of getting the enormous hooks and noise that are constantly on display here.

Fullbrook mottles sonic accouterments throughout with graceful finesse, though sometimes at the expense of songs that dissolve into a foggy blur.

The ambition they pursue overall shows in what Young himself affirms to be the band's best work, and their belief in that shows through and through.

There's a lot of beautiful music to hear and Patton treats it all with an admirer's respect, but there is something about Mondo Cane that reeks of vanity.

While much has been made of Jubilee being an album about joy—and in some ways, it is—the majority of the third Japanese Breakfast album captures a full breadth of emotions. ... It’s on the back half of this album where things don’t click as strongly.

While a fairly brisk listen, the album does start to drag in its second half. Not that the later songs are particularly weak, but the only thing that really marks them out from those in the first is that they're a bit quieter.

Even with its perceived flaws, it offers some real moments of beauty to get swept away in if you're looking for an escape from the world around you.

It may all seem a bit lackluster for a band that is known for being impulsive, but toning things down was actually an effective move to make.

Not everything works here and I found my attention wandering at times. But it is bursting with promise and MIKE's arrival feels both imminent and inevitable.

Overall the band carries off a convincing sense of menace and rocks hard at the same time. It may not be what fans of the original Faust would expect but it's satisfying in a different way, while still maintaining the arch sensibility that made them legendary if not exactly famous.

These ten songs are immaculately composed, proving that besides holding a pop motif that isn’t really revelatory, there’s enough variation to satisfy a few repeated listens.

While he denies us simple solutions, he uses this album to open sounds and atmospheres stranger and more daring than he’s used before. Rather than looking for answers, maybe the questions are what truly matter.

They embrace what they do best: creating music that balances this personal and political darkness with joy. In their strongest outing since All That You Can’t Leave Behind, the four-piece writes both sweeping anthems as well as some of the most effortless songs of their career.

Hear the Lion’s Roar is filled with positivity and joy, and though sometimes the silliness buries some genuinely tuneful compositions, it’s yet another worthy escape that preserves Fair’s endearingly idyllic fancy.

As a whole, Elements Of Light might feature a fair amount of padding, and it might not be quite as original sounding as the idea would suggest (other than the aforementioned Bjork comparison, there are more than a few moments that recall Aphex Twin at his more contemplative), but even so it does offer more than enough to satisfy as a listening experience, rather than just a curiosity.

Alvvays takes a decidedly more shambolic direction as it reaches its final half, which is worrisome considering its brief runtime, thereby overstaying its welcome by lacking some much needed punch. But it shouldn’t in any way discourage Rankin’s efforts as the band’s core member, whose astute, lovesick descriptions are more than just a pleasant diversion.

It’s not quite inspiration, or an emotional center. You leave this record thinking about how complex and refined it is, or maybe about how much Jack Tatum has grown as a songwriter. But at the end of the day, the album doesn’t embed itself into your daily life in the way Nocturne or Gemini did.

The weaknesses are outweighed by the strengths considerably, and so shouldn’t detract from another impressive collection; how a band can keep producing music of relative significance in such a conveyor belt fashion is truly mystifying.

Shapeshifting isn't just something from which to go forward; it's an absolute success in everything it tries. I only wish Young Galaxy had pushed a bit more, because there's no doubt that this could have been so much more.

Sounding grandiose and understated simultaneously is not an easy feat, but it's one that Cat's Eyes manages to do almost relentlessly.

It is a solid and dependable album, sure of its own purpose yet ready to complement those poignant moments when all that seems to be missing is a cue for the dramatic music to start.

Ultimately, Justice is another example of rearranging and reshuffling the devices of the past, but with complete understanding of their effectiveness to a point that sounds fresh.

Home Video is a more noticeably more mellow affair. Musically, it can be a little thin. Her strength as a lyricist is unwavering, even on her sparest, most nondescript ballads (Thumbs). But, as perkier indie-rock tunes like First Time and Brando prove, her careful arpeggios can also shine when she lets a little looser.

An indie-release album that shines under lower stakes without sacrificing Monch's complexities or intelligence.

It’s easy to commend this album on the sole basis that despite coating his tracks with an incomprehensible amount of tripped-out trickery, Toro Y Moi still branches out into less protected songwriting.

It's not one of the year's best records, but it's churned out a couple of its best songs. At the very least, they've managed to create an atmosphere that's intriguing as it is entertaining.

He embraces a lush, widescreen sound with such vigor that even he can't keep up with, causing the album to lose some momentum as it settles into repetition. But Hunter's biting social critique is the focal point from start to finish, revealing his more vulnerable self in the process—a bold reinvention that should follow whichever direction he chooses to take from here on out.

Migration is a sparkling, crisp display of Green’s ability to completely immerse a listener, and it’s strong as it’s ever been.

The good does far outweigh the bad, and had this album been a bit more condensed, it would have been one of my favorites this year.

Brothers doesn’t break new ground for the band, but it continues to affirm the band’s soul, further demonstrating the unlimited power of blues music.

The highlights are somewhat front-loaded; Autre Ne Veut’s schtick begins to wear by the end.

Not quite a soaring rock masterpiece, but certainly a bold move that achieves a variable degree of success. Because of the Times proves that Kings of Leon have the ability to change move into new territory, as so many of their garage peers from five years ago have failed to do.

So, if everything works reasonably well, why does this sound like its lacking something important? It is perhaps the result of long-distance collaboration.

Take this album to your heart and cherish it as the sweet, accomplished, and skilfully made, underappreciated little gem that it is

Even if this record isn't perfect, it's clear that she will become an influential figure in high-brow electronic music.

Marauder is a solid record with several decent tracks that will make it a welcome addition to the group's discography.

From Gemini Feed’s bold awareness, to 27 Hours’ electrifying finish, The Altar is an accomplishment. There’s much more happening, but its tighter and fuller, filling in the most glaring gaps left by Goddess.

The original was Etten taking tentative first steps to collaborate, while this album sees her pass on the songs completely. It’s a fitting legacy for an album that’s about moving on stronger, but not without forgetting about the heartache it took to get there.

She provokes an emotional groundswell in the quietest of moods, one acoustic song at a time. But the knotty, country rock groove of both Head Alone and You Were Right show that she can also shake off those doldrums. Maybe not as much as we’d like, but as she repeatedly denotes in Crushing, healing is an everyday process.

This is The National’s 4th or 5th comfortably strong album in a row, another slight variation on a tried-and-true theme.

Barnes seems to draw from a bottomless well of creativity, and is capable of the most sublimely unexpected melodic phrasing. At the same time, he can come off as a little too intellectual for his own good.

There's much to recommend Just To Feel Anything and while, as with all retro-leaning instrumental rock, the question of its exact purpose is perhaps a little hard to answer when the details come together, as in Adrenochrome's shifting bass-line, or in how the title track gradually blossoms into life, such concerns are ultimately rendered entirely, wonderfully, redundant.

She misses the mark slightly, and though her take on sweeping and haunting art-pop isn't always the most distinct--especially when compared to some of her like minded peers--it is in the end a truer and more consistent statement of her abilities, and one that also offers a lot more promise.

Though he offers some of his most impressive and experimental numbers to date, due to Compass’s continual up-and-down nature it’s unlikely to make the impression of either of his two previous albums.

Its intensity has style, whatever Zeros lacks in substance or license, and an enjoyably infectious pulse that's consistent up until the final bits of backwards sound rotates during ƨbnƎ ƚI.

Penny Sparkle straddles the line between comfort and tension, the woozy synths bleed into one another, the music is warm and enveloping but frequent, unexpected minor chords and bass rumbles mean you can never be as comfortable as you'd wish to be.

Feels' seething frustrations thrash with a clearer focus and no shortage of attitude.

From the 19-song tracklist of short tunes to the complete disregard for standard song structures, Goat Girl’s self-titled is a punk album in demeanor, if not in style. The result makes for a far more fascinating record than initial singles would have led us to believe. In defying expectations, the band exceeds them.

Considering the vast number of ideas they put forth here, they're still finding new ways to engage with their signature formula after all these years—easily one of their most robust since 2008's Version 2.0.

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.

Spend The Night With... offers some impressive diversity without sounding tossed off or smashed together, and for all of the sloppiness it's a surprisingly cohesive album.

As Marshall proves time and time again, you don’t need original compositions to express how you’re feeling; Covers exudes confidence and hints at a new-found peace. It’s a delightful listen.

The further you get, the sharper the writing becomes and the more introspective and unique the album feels.

With the exception of the more melodious tracks coming in pairs and slightly hindering the flow of an otherwise excellent album, Specter at the Feast is a very good effort from BRMC, and an example of the continued revitalization that started sometime around Leah Shapiro’s arrival to the band in 2008.

While Years is pleasant enough, with Somewhere, there’s more of a palpable milieu to these songs that pushes it from good to great.

An unfair degree of skepticism can surround a band like The Hives for firing in all cylinders well into their forties, but there's no denying their commitment and passion to staying in character on and off the stage.

González adds in playful elements like metronomic percussion (Lasso In) and danceable cumbia rhythms with mixed results (Swing.) And though both are charming in their own right, they don't quite measure up to the haunting simplicity of his best work.

The widening of Banhart’s previously contained and signature sound continues to pay off here, the funky and inviting rubber basslines that are scattered throughout the album particularly memorable.

While well-intentioned, the EP overall gave me some pause, as it proved that U2 sometimes can’t help themselves to write placid pop rock songs that don’t disrupt their quest for supreme relevance.

There’s nothing too revealing here, but the familiar, comforting touch they always offer is more than welcome.

Mackenzie-Barrow is clearly a talented songwriter and, taken individually, most of the material here is engaging. Taken sequentially, however, his sparse compositions blur together, emphasising his vocal limitations and rendering Book of Churches a somewhat dour affair.

We Are Together Again aims to repeat the trick [2025's The Purple Bird], with its earnest country twang and cast of familiar collaborators, but ultimately it lives and dies by the quality of its songs—and they just aren’t consistently good enough.

Many of the songs here are structured around pull and restraint, mostly drifting in a calm haze before surprising you with sudden bursts of energy. The quieter moments, like on “The Woodland Has Returned,” feel more impactful than their twitchy, spastic excursions.

While their performances sparkle, Look For Your Mind! exposes the songwriting limitations of The Lemon Twigs.

There are hints of Shame’s continuous evolution as songwriters. Take the muted, jagged menace lurking behind the austere “Packshot,” which builds into a powerful, guitar-driven crescendo. But for the most part, Cutthroat struggles at balancing that very fine line between accessibility and experimentation.

While they try subtle new tricks, like compressing Grohl’s vocals to almost-grating levels amid muddy sound mixing, their attempts at sounding edgy usually land in a pleasant middle ground.

Their easy-to-digest, familiar sounds will inevitably go down well, but are unlikely to linger in the memory long enough to trouble the headliner. Remember Sports have learned their craft, but they are yet to truly master it.

While Swet Death’s strongest moments come when Bachmann is front and centre, doing his thing, there is little here to rival his best work.

Simply put, it's far too repetitive, especially considering its short length, and even on repeated listens tracks seem impossible to tell apart--particularly, after the strong opening provided by Welcome, the run of Apart, Motion and Expect all sound pretty much the same.

After 35 minutes filled with one kinetic power-chord to the next with the littlest variation, Typhoons spreads itself too thin.

Noctourniquet, while not completely successful, finds The Mars Volta at their most pop and their most reasonable.

If more is to come, it should bring with it a great deal of anticipation - Colour Trip has a great deal of promise about it, and that, it seems, is hard to miss, even through all the noise.

The 2nd Law is a love-it-or-hate-it record. It contains some of the best songs Muse has done in recent memory, but also the worst

Chugging, jangling versions of "Honey I Miss You" and "Life in Vain" are tuneful and serviceable, stripping out Johnston's idiosyncratic touch while faithfully aligning to his simple, primal songwriting style. On the other hand, their version of Good Morning You sticks to the original's scrappy melodicism, and at a minute and a half, doesn't overstate its welcome.

It’s another intriguing entry into the Charli XCX canon, even if it does feel like more of a stopgap than anything. But hey, right now, that’s okay too.

White Stuff is a welcome return even if it is uneven.

It’s catchy, it’s energetic, and it makes you move--all plusses in my book. That said, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a record that sounds so much like everything else.

Maybe it’s a struggle to really get your teeth into Mosquito because of the track listing; the three song dry patch after Mosquito is a huge problem considering the ease these days of being able to find something more interesting to listen to.

At times it can be strikingly absurdist, the benefit of a frontman who knows how to insert humor naturally into the dourest of settings. But Higgs also loses sight of his own lyrical virtuosity when keeping with the band’s regurgitated precision-playing. Everything Everything continue to convey their bottomless ideas effortlessly, chained to the rhythm, even if their dizzying dance is beginning to show signs of fatigue.

On Queen, Nicki spends a lot of time ordering beheadings--which are fun, but get old quick--rather than showing us why she is and should be queen. Here's to hoping the next album gives us a more earnest, more raw glimpse of the head that wears the crown.

These songs just lack that certain oomph to separate Free Energy from the thousands of groups who have sang about girls before.

It's terrific fun while it lasts, and Moon's knowingly gawky charms just about manage to stave off any lingering Jimmy Ray (remember him?) related doubts, but the general lack of content does offer fairly compromised value for money, and raises questions as to if he'll be able to think of ways to expand his repertoire without ruining the central conceit, or just end up being an oddball one trick pony.

For a first try, the Black Keys do a decent enough job providing the backbone upon which this collection of rappers can spit and strut, but the actual musical output is overshadowed by the concept of this collaboration, and that is Blakroc’s biggest problem.

It gets a bit boring, a bit sleepy, and altogether, it's a bit forgettable.... But, you know? It sounds good doing it. That has to count for something.

Ha Ha Sound is occasionally brilliant, often adequate and, on some tracks, so bizarrely irritating that the mind boggles at who Broadcast imagine would actually be interested in hearing them. So, in summation, an almost essential album of largely inessential tracks.

The album's biggest hindrance is a lack of ruthlessness at crucial moments, eschewing cohesion for broad-stroke stabs at too many genres.

Rolling Blackouts is a Technicolor, kaleidoscopic riot of a record but, put in context, it can't fail to be tinged with a hint of disappointment. There's a real risk that The Go! Team may have painted themselves into a corner (albeit with various shades of eye-wateringly luminous paint); it will be intriguing to see where they go from here.

The Thermals promised that their next album would be “loud, fast, incredibly scary and undeniably catchy.” The album we received, Desperate Ground, succeeds in most of these characteristics, but only at the bare minimum level.

Gutter Rainbows instead hovers between a mainstream and an indie vibe, embracing neither and potentially isolating both audiences.