Lisbon is up to the band's usual high standards; if you've followed their career closely that's really all you need to know.

It’s a bold, enchanting and captivating record that is of genuine interest to hear, as opposed to a long drawn out chore, which an album like this it could have so easily been.

On the surface, Haiku Hands is a party record, but dig deeper and it becomes a powerful testament to female friendship and the power you feel when you’re supported.

Timeless and treasurable.

Object 47 is proof that Wire’s edge remains as sharp as ever.

A work of faultless skill and assured sophistication, The Take Off and Landing of Everything positions Elbow as one of the most quietly ambitious and rewarding acts of our generation.

What it lacks in polish it all but makes up for in immediacy—and lots and lots of raw power. She didn't just get out of a potentially sticky situation; she thrived and found a way to turn it into an advantage with great songwriting panache.

An absolute beauty of an album.

It's yet another labor of love from The Weeknd, and it does not disappoint.

While there are subdued moments throughout, Remember The Humans more often than not offers a unique listening experience within each of these songs, supported ably by a wide variety of instrumentation and expansive production.

From start to finish, the instrumentation and production on We Are Him is immaculate

All in all, the result of Chairlift dabbling in the mainstream pop archetype is the duo’s best and most cohesive album to date.

Perhaps the most significant thing that Director's Cut offers is context. Not just the context of an album – which it is being touted as, rather than a mere compilation – but the context of era, in how technological limitations of the time affect a composer's original intentions.

Devour is best experienced from front to back. Shifting from Chardiet’s possessed screams (Spit It Out), to the dial-up-modem-from-Hell (Self-Regulating System), to grotesque static (Deprivation), Devour is shockingly sublime, like some warped, morally corrupt gradient. What’s equally mystifying is how textured and thematic these songs are, subtleties and surprises that are only revealed through brave, dedicated consumption.

This is a release of artfully constructed, seamlessly great indie-rock that could get easily passed by. Samia has the presence of someone effortlessly classy and commanding, which makes this project all the more appealing.

In many ways, Memory poignantly conveys how time has caught up with the Vivian Girls. It may look into the past, but the trio are not the same anymore both creatively and personally—and the time they took apart to explore other avenues works to their benefit. Armed with a deeper understanding of those trying times, and each other, the trio moves forward—and live in harmony with it.

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.

Still, three CDs of good-to-great music is a pretty acceptable ratio, and while this is not meant for the casual Cure fan, it’s an essential purchase for the hardcore ones.

Suicide Songs juggles anguish and optimism in equal measure, somehow mournful and triumphant in search for some kind of personal salvation.

This Icelandic association seems to have triggered a benign crisis in Jimmy Lavalle's composition gland and stimulated his transformation from a major key minor artist to a minor key major artist in the course of this one volume.

Blank Face is occasionally too indulgent for his own good, as he also follows trap and net-soul trends in awkward fashion, but the amount of genuine, larger-than-life parables continue to expose an artist who still wrestles with his hard-knock past.

Outside of some slight bloat that nears The Lumineers' territory, the bulk of the album is far too open and compassionate to ignore.

Almost presents touching, and often forthright, chronicles of the messy scenarios we stumble into which defy easy explanations.

The album’s title suggests something close to perfection, and 99.9% isn’t too far from being the ideal electronic record.

It’s a collection of unsightly surveillances expressed in a magnificent manner, and the work of a man more than capable of out-creating himself.

Shellac delivers a very spare and assaultive listen, 33 minutes that fly by and demand repeated listens.

Wildflower is simply a joy, an euphonious hour-long journey that exists in some wonderfully naive and blissful alternate universe. It’s an aural paradise you’ll never want to leave.

Skilled Mechanics is an intelligent, pertinent piece of work that shows just how fresh the ideas of Thaws remain.