This is an album made by a bunch of dudes in their absolute prime, and while it’s easy for one to assume that the disparate styles being straddled here would make the LP less cohesive, it’s just not the case; Paradise Lost don’t lose an iota of focus or momentum in the making of this concise project – the scenario only serves to strengthen Obsidian’s case for being their most revered album for the years to come, and is one hell of an act to follow up on.

GNX is the sound of an artist stepping into their power and the newfound freedom that comes without have to prove a damn thing. It’s a several-victory lap long coronation that serves as the perfect capstone to what was already a legendary year that shifted the entire rap hierarchy with just a handful of songs.

The result is a smooth, glistening, experimental, and often powerful pop record – something Hayley has not necessarily aspired for before, but that she nails effortlessly here. [Review is based on the 17-track release]

Transgender Dysphoria Blues might be the most important album of the year, and its message will hopefully seep into music culture and spread till records like this don’t *have* to get made anymore.

This album is the first work by Kishi Bashi that feels like a mission, and it’s that same sense of purpose that drives Omoiyari to be the most beautiful and impactful piece of his catalogue.

If they’ve been treading water for the last ten years, then How to Solve Our Human Problems, Pt. 1 is the sound of them emerging--refreshed, invigorated, and ready to return to the hearts and ears of fans across the world.

Colored Sands is exactly what a Gorguts record should sound like in 2013 and will surely breathe for years to come.

If there’s any grievance worth mentioning, it’s that they’re probably capable of going even deeper with this sound, but for now, they’ve tapped into something special here, revealing themselves as masters of balancing unconventional songwriting with accessibility.

Dirty Projectors is back with a reshaped identity, serving up experimental/artistic indie-pop while retaining its penchant for eclecticism and unpredictability.

Deafheaven’s second outing is wondrous celebration of boundless ambition and pure artistic vision.

While Bleeds may not have the monstrous impact of Rat Saw God, it’s a truly glorious follow-up with just as many moments of brilliance.

Humble, modest, unassuming, and attentive to its runtime and the need to make a better song; in a year where Migos, “Mask Off,” and DAMN. have dominated the conversation, Big Fish Theory sticks out as the most consistent and well-versed rap album of the year.

There’s all the verve and naked empathy of the best of his classic rock forebears, with none of the bombast or contrivances. Lost in the Dream is a long record, to be sure, yet it never overstays its welcome.

We Are Chaos uses a pretty masterful balance of old and new sounds, similar to the way he integrated The Pale Emperor’s bluesy framework with his own ghoulish traits.

Confident and complex, it's a standout debut from one of the most promising artists of the last few years.

The fact that they still sound so visceral 32 years into their career is incredibly impressive, not to mention that this could very well be their best, most cohesive album to date. Into Oblivion is an album that shows off all the best qualities of Lamb of God and puts them all into one place.

Truth be told, it's the kind of album rappers should be dying to make: smart and sensitive, beautiful and brutal, uncompromising in doing exactly the things it sets out to do.

She’s always had a knack for writing both flashy and tender pop melodies, but on her latest album she knocks each number clear out of the park. It’s a delightful smorgasbord of all things Regina, complete with the richest selection of music she’s ever offered up on a single album.

A work of sheer hip-hop utility and performance.

One of the most interesting releases of 2021 so far. ... Two tracks in, some details start to surface: the production, which leaves a lot of air for the singers to breathe and shine, and the very subtle but delightful instrumentation of every track of this recording. ... In Quiet Moments recalls an album that marked a generation of artists during the second half of the 80s, a project known as This Mortal Coil introduced by an album titled It'll End In Tears.

All You Can Eat is easily the band's funniest and most diverse offering to date, their confidence coming out in full force this time around.

Sleep Well Beast sees The National flourish with candid lyrics and diverse song craft, embodying the band’s continuing evolution and life’s constant change.

Between the obvious stylistic growth of Shakey Graves and Rose-Garcia’s ramped up creative appetite, Can’t Wake Up presents itself as the definitive album of the project’s discography. It masters its own atmosphere, swelling with confidence at each and every turn while inviting all who listen to join in. It only gets stronger as it goes on.

The centre of gravity around which they've always spun, the human heart of Berninger's lyrics that was always caked under middle-class anxiety and "quote-unquote upscale tropical funeral" surrealism, has never been easier to find. This tension between open-heartedness and discursive, tangential songwriting--let's call it the distance between simplicity and complexity, for closure's sake--is the paradox on which this album is built, and to that brilliant balancing act you can always return when it feels like it's losing the thread.

The run starting at "XO" is the real DROGAS Light: a summery shimmer of pop-rap which hits breathtaking highs with the delicate jazzy musings of "King Nas", or "Happy Timbuck2 Day"'s Tribe Called Quest-esque tribute to a legendary Chicago DJ. The other album, where the Wave section of the album name is derived, which loosely comprises the first half of the album and revolves around a mythical group of vengeful drowned slaves, isn't just Lupe Fiasco's best but easily one of the greatest albums I've heard in recent memory.

D'Agostino remains one of music's most enigmatic yet intensely relatable figures. A voice like a car engine cutting in and out and the discursive, layered nature of his songwriting ensures the full impact of Empty Country won't land for several listens. This, if anything, is just another notch on its list of strengths.

Iconoclasts is pretty much a complete 180 from any of Anna's previous output. That may scare some long time fans, but let this fellow Anna lover ease your mind because this album is pure bliss.

Across all of Blue Weekend, one thing is very clear – this is Wolf Alice’s best offering to date, and clearly one of those albums that qualifies as an event. It’s emotionally stirring, sonically riveting, and just as unpredictable as always. It’s the full realization of everything Wolf Alice ever aspired to be: poignant and melodic, raucous and edgy, and certainly every possible shade in between.

Singing Saw is one of those albums that immediately captures your interest, but offers enough depth and hidden intricacies to make every subsequent listen just as rewarding.

While m b v is a record that is more than capable of standing on its own, at the same time it also sounds exactly like the sort of thing that we might have expected My Bloody Valentine to produce two decades ago, and this noticeable lack of allegiance to the present is perhaps the most potent thing about this entire revisionist affair.

With furious drama, callbacks to older tracks, and references to their own unwieldy name, the band’s fourth record would make for a theatrical swan song. Lord knows the revolving door that is their lineup lends itself to an unexpected and sudden demise. The World Is, however, appear to be tighter and more focused than ever before.

Every song possesses a distinctive identity, a different color fleshed out by its instrumentation. And the lyrical wonders Lamar works on top of all this is even more worthy of praise.

No one could have crafted this masterpiece quite like Nick Cave, and the staggering amount of material over his nearly four decade long career doesn’t prepare for what we have here. This stands as possibly his greatest achievement, as much a sorrowful exploration as a loving sendoff only for his fans, but more importantly, for himself.

A standalone masterpiece. It’s the kind of album capable of captivating a new audience; an evolution from traditional Irish troubadour folk that is both dark and masterful.

American Football has come back with a true classic whether you consider it post-rock, indie, emo or all of the above. Fans of all of those genres should be able to find lots to love about this album, and I'll tell you one thing, it's as addicting as music can be in this day and age.

If you're a fan of ambient, new age or soft folk music, there's not much here that you won't like. I can't think of many other albums where a harp is so prominent and the chilling, reverb-soaked vocals are a perfect compliment to the misty imagery that Julianna and Mary are able to solicit throughout the entire 42-minute runtime.

It is all about being strong. It reaches out and tries to help make sense of it all. It's a comforting empathy. The stories are intensely personal but are so easily transferable beyond their original inspiration.

Olsen has created an undeniable stunner that should go down as one of the strongest folk albums of the year.

The Film is that rare kind of collaborative effort that sees both parties' voices enhanced into something distinct, marked by careful restraint and caustic volatility. .... The Film is one to be treasured.

To describe this group's efforts as excellent or even superb doesn't do their record proper. American Dollar Bill is the record to the end of the world, maybe even to the world as it is right now. If it makes you afraid, then that's very okay. They probably want it that way.

Whatever voodoo made their unapproachable sound so damn fun and cathartic is completely gone. In its place is a something altogether darker and uglier, but ultimately more brilliant and enrapturing than ever before. You Won't Get What You Want is Daughters finest moment and everything I’ve wanted.

All the characteristics of JID's music appear in full force: the attention-grabbing beat switches equalled only by his effortless changeups in flow, absolutely absurd rhyme schemes and storytelling chops, and features that range from fantastic (Earthgang on their fun shit, a more fired-up Yasiin Bey than we've heard in the better part of a decade and a disarmingly beautiful cameo from James Blake) to the banal (21 Savage and Lil Durk, sounding exactly like you'd expect them to). ... Fun, idiosyncratic and personal.

The league Big|Brave are continuously uncovering is one of their own: not explicitly inviting, but altogether demanding and utterly rewarding.

Even with its minor misstep, Songs of a Lost World is a singularly sombre picture of triumph, a band in their collective 60s still making music so vital and beautiful it can genuinely steal the words from your mouth and the heat from the room.

UGLY is a headlong tumble into deep waters, careening sharply off the edges of decency and screaming out for meaning as it goes, arse over teakettle into the unknown. Follow it down if you want, just untie that rope around your waist before you do: this is the kind of fall you take at terminal velocity or not at all.

At its best, Overgrown brings to mind Frank Sinatra's iconic In The Wee Small Hours, a record that acts as almost a thematic analogue in its lonely tone and ultimate embrace of love as a painful yet beautiful emotion.

This is much more of a traditional rock record than anything else Frank has done, and that’s a good thing because it means that it’s probably the most consistent album he’s made.

The Electric Lady is also a dazzling artistic statement, a fiendishly clever endeavor that oozes enough feminine charm, wit and charisma to endow dozens of regular pop starlets with.

Material Control doesn't cater to anything except the next rush of adrenaline, the next high. ... This is a Glassjaw album, through and through.

Right now I'm pretty content with digging The King of Limbs as I'd dig any new record: enjoying the personality that comes from the record itself and not the name behind it. And guess what? Radiohead makes good music. As if you had any doubt.

Centipede HZ is a reaffirmation. It reminds us that Animal Collective plays interactive, now and forever.

So once more, the Dodos feel fresh, a little bit more thoughtful, and every bit as happy to get us tangled up in ourselves. Of course there's color to No Color. It's just this time there's black and white and grey as well- colors they've never used before.

Broken Bells is the crown jewel of each musician's discography and is a necessity for fans of either one.

It's excellent, to be honest. Jay-Z sounds relaxed and comfortable in his legacy on the mic: he's not feeling as pressed to perform as he did on Kingdom Come, and the MC just lets his talent flow effortlessly.

Visions often feels suspended in the best way possible, both in time and space.

It towers over the vast majority of contemporary rock music with its controlled tunefulness while ever maintaining the effortless modern appeal of Jack White himself.

Even if Strange Mercy is like a blender with its top blown off, it's undeniable how convincing St. Vincent has become.

Devotion does something remarkable in making the universal--love, heartbreak, and yes, devotion--feel specific, simply because Jessie Ware doesn't sound like she's lying.

Everyday Life is bold and exudes confidence, and it never wanders into long, forgettable stretches the way that both Ghost Stories and A Head Full of Dreams did.

It’s a waste of time to recount highlights though, because this whole album is essential, and to skip from one point to the next without experiencing the journey along the way is sort of the opposite of how Golden Hour deserves to be listened to.

The entirety of Blue Sky Noise blows away anything else that Circa Survive have ever done. It is immense, it is challenging, and it will make fools out of those who doubt it.

What makes this effort so different is its ability to transcend those mere qualitative descriptions and transport one’s mind to its most emotionally darkest corners--even if it has to clear away some of the cobwebs that we attempt to veil our pain in.

Hours upon hours of material is present for listeners, the hardcore and the uninitiated alike, to indulge in; the five-pound box provides listeners with a potentially new outlook on this underappreciated era of King Crimson, and is guaranteed to be worth the price of entry just for the fleeting mellotron strains of “Lizard” alone.

For all its musical precedents (first and foremost, this is an auspicious, brilliantly-executed dance album), what makes Dear Science so hefty and relevant is its beating heart.

They sound like they'll probably end up being one of the most enduring bands of our era.

If Hymn to the Immortal Wind does anything, it establishes Mono’s place among post rock’s top dogs, and for this reviewer, easily gives them the title. Everyone else is just generic or something.

It’s Ben Howard doubling down on ambiance, creating a collage of moments both fleeting and everlasting while choosing the art of the craft over the simplest path to accolades. It may take more time to appreciate, but it’s a masterclass of songwriting that will likely dictate the future direction of his music.

Gemini, Her Majesty easily manifests as the album you expect and deserve from a group of consummate pros like the Rx Bandits.

This is very lush, star-lit country music that is practically breathtaking in the moment while transcending the typical boundaries of the genre. It's about time.

Sleigh Bells have not sounded this rejuvenated or fun since they first appeared on the scene over a decade ago. Their core spirit and whatever magic it contained is back in full force, and it’s arguably more potent than ever.

Katie is making a point of saying more with less, taking potent emotions and quietly tucking them into a plain white envelope for us to open and interpret. She’s as lucid as we’ve ever heard her, stripping down to her emotional core and daring us to make eye contact.

In short, whatever your thoughts are on the band, leave your preconceived notions at the door and give it a try, Life is But a Dream… is set to be one of the best albums of 2023.

Every line tends to ring out with a sense of unparalleled, down-to-earth beauty. It's melancholic and often mournful, but thanks to Hansard's ability to spin even the most daunting situations as an opportunity to rise to the challenge, his music has also never sounded this full of both life and meaning.

John knows what he does best and that's exactly he delivers, every damn time like clockwork.

There's a depth to these tunes, one that comes not out of fast nights and wrecked relationships but the hindsight and experience of age; it's a well that, thankfully, seems to be getting deeper and deeper.

I can easily see it lacking the longevity of their other albums, but for now it’s damn good to see the Weavers doing what they do best...screaming about natural nonsense and making some excellent black metal.

At its dizzying zenith, Beyoncé is a loaded fusion of generosity and self-empowerment. or perhaps, more accurately, it finds self-empowerment in generosity.

It’s an album whose memory is firmly planted in this world forever, and one that will haunt you long after it’s done.

There’s absolutely no way Queensryche’s self-titled album will disappoint long-time fans that have been clamoring for a return to what initially made the band special.

It's a scarily mature album for a bunch of 21 year olds to have recorded, and the pairing of its ambitious lyrical concepts and motivated songwriting is something to be admired.

There’s a lot to unwrap lyrically and thematically on Show Pony. It offers a layer of depth that simply doesn’t exist in certain pockets of country music, and brings all of this to the table while stretching the genre’s sonic boundaries.

Circus is a top-rate pop album that, with a little bit of justice, will be afforded the same sort of longevity as her brilliant early singles.

Tropical Fuck Storm's latest record simply reproves their enigmatic worth, and then doubles down on it in a way that no other artist comes close to emulating.

It’s the end of the world every single day, and King Gizzard have just offered you its soundtrack.

All in all, An Imaginary Country is probably Tim Hecker's most accessible album. In a way, the record bridges together the elements heard on previous albums, only without regurgitating old ideas.

Braindrops is somehow both more personal and more detached than Liddiard has ever been. It’s personal in that there’s moments of unmitigated passion, manifesting as anger, vulnerability, and virulent snark; the shrapnel from broken relationships and haywire politics ricochets off the band.

It is something brand new and completely unexpected.

Essentially the best debut album of 2010 thus far.

By all means engage yourself in Tomorrow, In a Year, for the prize at the end is one of the essential experiences of the young year. Just understand the scope of the expedition you’re embarking upon before you go.

Arrows and Anchors is a masterpiece. It takes the wonder of El Cielo, mixes it with the heavy prog of Tool, and goes all [insert Mike Patton project here] in its weirdness.

I'd call The Marfa Tapes a labor of love if it didn't sound so effortless. Ingram and Randall contribute beautiful cuts of their own (don't assume this is just another platform for Lambert), and when the three play together, the end product is as dynamic as it is breathtaking.

Listening to something like Thursday is the ultimate form of escapism that so many of us flock to music for. That's a quality that should be celebrated, not criticized for its lack of immediate pleasure.

Can was light years ahead of their time, and the ideas they present in Tago Mago and sequential albums are still incomprehensible even in today's eclectic and varied music scene.

Dixon’s radiant songwriting paves the way, and his expressive style makes for an enchanting journey through blissful soundscapes.

There’s a sense of the theatrical blended in subtly among the very genuine declarations of self that pepper the rest of the album.

With all its sonic diversity, consistency and precision, ...Like Clockwork is an impressive step in the right direction.

woods’s golliwog is the rare symbol that truly awakens from the dead on what seems like his twentieth stellar full-length, given breath by the cursed voodoo that permeates the entirety of the album.

But really, it's Kozelek's voice in all its imperfect glory that makes April (and indeed all of his other work) as wonderful as it is.