But the band is grounded in humility, always playing against each other with a drifting timbre that’s inviting and likable. But tucked within their textural progressions lay deftly written songs that honor their long-lived inclination to remain emotionally and intellectually independent.

The songwriting on songs like “Wake Up and Smile” and “Maybe I'll Burn My Life Down,” while adventurous to a degree, usually delivers the same result: the layering of a few sonic embellishments to rough-edged anthems that end up clashing against each other. But the main offenders are the most straightforward.

Maybe it's less intimate and personal than his past releases, but Revelator sure goes down easy when it's most needed.

Overall, her empowering message points at the daily toxic attitudes that female celebrities deal with. Screen Violence also projects confidence in a musical sense with its grand synth-pop and new wave, resisting and challenging the misogyny that unfortunately reaches far beyond our screens.

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.

Syd hasn’t quite molded herself as a pop luminary, but the self-determined themes on Fin do portray an independent woman who’s fueled by the power of love.

Rather than a credible follow-up, it’s another great album in its own right.

Ultimately, what it all boils down to is that, as much as an album can be, it's pretty damn close to being flawless; not only matching the quality of The Reminder but actually bettering it.

Overall, these tracks feel more like the B sides of Random Spirit Lover, maybe the acoustic B sides, the tracks that didn't quite make the cut but would definitely be of interest to ardent fans.

Maybe the lyrics fall a little on the simplistic side, which is frustrating considering the themes here can be pretty bleak despite the sunny and airy sound. But overall, Devastator is a more than enjoyable return for a band that always felt deserved more attention.

Throughout these skeletal observations, Horn turns cryptic when she's about to give out more than she should—stressing ominous implications while using the mundane as a backdrop of her stories à la Raymond Carver, a writer she cites as an influence.

It's a good album, revelatory in that Liars can carry their sound into different realms of possibility, a translation carried out by different instruments.

The album is stacked with jaw-dropping moments, underpinned by seismic emotional shifts.

It's curious how much of the content in here could bring back what is fast becoming an increasingly extinct way of emoting--the fact that it feels this intimate should be something to be thankful for.

Bonfires on the Heath is another shrewd effort for the London based band.

This is probably the hardest Low album I’ve heard to appreciate, but it’s certainly worth it.

Gore is a listen as complex and engrossing as we’ve come to expect from Deftones, and they continue to be a band that matures organically, becoming more and more fluid in their own craft.

Courtney might give the impression that he's aiming for a low-stakes, minor effort to pass the time in Magic Signs, a stopgap until moving on to a relatively more ambitious project. But he couldn't be more in his element, shifting in and out of focus as he recaptures his youthful wonder.

Even with its faults, The Magic Whip is remarkably cohesive; not a single track is superfluous, flippant, or jarring.

It could do with one or two songs being trimmed, but there's enough variety to keep things engaging, if at times it lacks incisiveness. Still, my criticisms are largely comparing the band to their past work, which happens to be exceptional.

Even at his most open, there's still this sense that his character-driven songs wouldn't exist without revealing the backstory of his Canadian roots. His sentiments are more palpable and poignant, but his approach is as casual as always.

You may well have to look elsewhere for music that will one day remind you of 2013, but this is still a great, brief blast of noisy, off-kilter rock; a consistent debut which sounds better each time you hear it.

A majestic record of solemn beauty. Not only does Night CRIÚ sound unlike anything else in 2025, it also stands proudly alongside the year’s very best work.

Bradford Cox has created a work that musically and lyrically will attach itself to your consciousness, reflecting exterior experience and encouraging inner association with the former.

It’s almost as if Pinhas isn’t quite committed to offering this much of himself to anyone, as if, in spite of this written and performed maelstrom of odds and ends, he’s proceeding with caution.

While rallying for a new cycle of nostalgia, Yuck's debut ends with beautifully rendered confirmation that they mean to do more than simply appease the Alterna-boomers: They're asking for attention, so lend them an ear.

It makes a complicated formula sound so effortlessly simple. And that's not something you can do with little effort or care.

Embryonic is a true 21st century freak-out and it's only appropriate to end this decade with such an ambitious, intrepid undertaking.