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

URGH is creative, scary and club-worthy all at the same time. If you're a fan of industrial music, techno, hip-hop and/or post-punk, there will be something for you to enjoy about this album.

An hour of ambitious song structures, disparate vocal and instrumental performances, and lyrical esoterica concerning Houston, tied together by Travis Scott’s affection for autotune and lowest common denominator rhymes and flows. Which isn’t particularly characteristic of a great rapper, but is more or less the ingredients of great music.

There's some very remarkable playing and composing found throughout The Vigil, and because of the diverse range of sounds and styles that the album chooses to work with, there's something for every jazz fan to mull over.

Dropping some fresh experiments as always, we are left to discover new bits every year. This is one of their best records so far and an easy contender for album of the year in the genre’s category.

Years from now I’m sure we’ll still be returning to Lost in the Dream as The War on Drugs’ indelible classic, but that doesn’t mean that I Don’t Live Here Anymore won’t possess its own well-deserved audience.

Aura pronounces the spirit of each piece very clearly, which is cause for gratitude; there’s enough weight to these eight intricate articulations of the ineffable that each offers a distinct glimpse at something ordinarily invisible and ultimately quite precious.

What truly makes Shell~Wave unique is the uncanny ability of its creator to imprint himself in the music, making some of the most machine-like techno around sound uncharacteristically human. This was the genre’s calling card when it was invented, and decades later, it’s still the thing that makes techno interesting and exciting. Surgeon hasn’t forgotten.

The National should give faith to anyone who has become disillusioned with indie music, anyone who misses a time where it didn't seem like all the musicians thought they were better than you and you could actually relate to the damn words they were singing. High Violet is another batch of cement to further supplement The National's already unshakable concrete career.

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

For all the razzle-dazzle of its surprise release, I’m struck by hard it is to draw a lasting overall impression from the record. It adds little to the reinvention established by Folklore and doesn’t deepen her work within this sound in particularly convincing terms. I want to credit her at least for keeping up an industrious streak, but this alone would seem patronising.

Memento Mori’s biggest flaw is the middle section, as the respective songs don’t really stand out. Of course, they remain decent at the very least, “Before We Drown” being perhaps the one to return to most. Other than that, this is another solid Depeche Mode album with a handful of highlights that fans should definitely add to their playlists.

Not only is it essential listening for hip-hop in 2012, but also one of the few records that pushes musical and cultural boundaries in general.

On the Line as a whole never feels manufactured, or, really, like anything less than Lewis telling it to you straight.

Mirror Reaper is a challenging album to listen to on multiple fronts. On the one hand, it is oppressive and deep music, wrought with heavy themes and even heavier aesthetics. On the other hand, it challenges the listener's patience with overcooked ideas that threaten to spoil what is otherwise an immaculately produced record.

It is both gorgeous and fearsome, and one couldn't ask for anything more.

Few albums can make such bold statements without seeming heavy-handed, but Jacklin’s sophomore effort feels as natural as the words rolling off her tongue.

It’s Marissa Nadler’s most ambitious undertaking from a lyrical perspective, but she pulls it off brilliantly while simultaneously delivering an album that sounds so lush, sweeping, and powerful that all of the subtle, intricate melodies are merely the cherry on top.

On The Living Infinite, Soilwork have simultaneously stepped back to their past while maintaining their current sound, but they have also diversified their formula more than ever before--and they did so without a single filler track.

Any Human Friend cements Hackman as one of the most intriguing figures in indie-pop/rock, if not for her lyrical antics then for her ability to constantly reinvent her music.

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.

On Little Oblivions, she's taken the spaces in her music that used to be empty and filled them with churning, beautiful noise.

Where Myth Meets Memory is the slickest, most confident tracklist Rolo Tomassi have ever laid down, and the only real candidate for their hitherto non-existent single-defining-work.

This is a fine release with great emotional depth, and its oft-haunted tone is given a perfect kiss-off with the final track, which can only be described as pure - a loving ode built upon classic country song imagery.

This LP successfully condenses Spiritualized’s discography into a cohesive, 48-minute listen.

From Dreams to Dust packs all the wit, creativity, and emotionally compelling depth that you'd expect from a band leading the country/Americana charge - until now, we just didn't know that band was The Felice Brothers.

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.

Chaos for the Fly might be morose, but it’s also very touching, and full of delicate little moments which make the record more than just the sum of its parts. Frankly, my biggest gripe is that its thirty-six minute runtime is a little too trim, and an epic five-plus minute storytelling track would’ve definitely enhanced the experience.

The production is a tad artificial at times, way less organic than the somber, daring spirit of Opus Eponymous, but every instrument is performed with impressive precision by every ghoul, and Forge's vocals sound on point most of the time, save for some grating moments when he seems to fall out of character. The added backing vocals and the meticulous arrangements enhance greatly the album's overall sound, but the question remains if these sorts of embellishments are enough for the loyal sheep to keep their faith on what the Clergy is feeding them.

If, in 1970, a fusion between jazz and rock felt inevitable, it's only natural jazz's fusion aspect gets refreshed with electronics. That, along with its determination to improvise shit and try to come up with new sounds, is how London Brew successfully channels the legacy of its inspiration.

This is a fantastic record, both sophisticated and personable, and one that I suspect will be well-loved by a niche audience. If the album’s description here intrigues you at all, Complete Mountain Almanac’s emergence is not to be missed.

The Ballad of Darren presents itself as probably the most humble collection in the band’s catalog. With considerable pretentiousness stripped off, we catch a glimpse of sustained vulnerability rarely seen on their records. The sound is familiar, yet miles away from previous efforts.

As with previous efforts, Cancer for Cure pushes the sonic envelope of hip-hop beyond its contemporaries from the very start

Sister Faith may not be entirely consistent, yet in the long run it proves way more heartfelt and genuinely bruised than a typical hardcore punk offering.

Ecate ended up as the Italians' hardest hitting and most streamlined album so far.

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.

Its songs are generally brisk, compositions tame, nuances readily graspable and holistic color palette decidedly uniform.

Chat Pile leaves it all on the table. Everything they screamed about in God’s Country has been brought to all of humankind. Cool World is darker, bleaker, grimier, and more violent. The lyrics make the musicianship haunting, and the musicianship makes the lyrics tormented.

The Last Will and Testament is slickly produced, conceptually sound and stronger in its first half. Unfortunately, it lacks an overall aesthetic that would see this record reach the accolades of Blackwater Park, Watershed or even Heritage while dabbling in those clear elements.

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.

This is Happening is a marathon-length listen, as in, if you can find a way to deal with James Murphy’s silly, sometimes bizarre lyrical themes and grand scale tracks, it may be worth the wait.

This is a triumphantly singular album that explores a space that only this band could have made.

Legrand weaves a series of intersecting narratives of love and loneliness, intimacy and abandonment, maturity and nostalgia. Any one of these themes is rich enough to fuel far more than Once Twice Melody’s eighty-five minutes, but Beach House’s storytelling is defocused to the point of indistinction, strung out of moody vignettes that flow like asphalt and stick like the tide. ... Fortunately for us all, this is just too gorgeous a record to pose a true slog.

It’s fantastic to hear Boris exploring this side of the rock spectrum once again, and since NO is more substantial, more ambitious and better executed than Vein by a decent margin, history may end up flattering it.

This is In Waves’s fatal flaw and greatest strength. It’s music that can’t help but hold on just a little too tight to ennui and cynicism, expressing the future a respite from the now in place of extending a flexible present.

Those who take the time to unpack and absorb the content will almost certainly find aspects that crawl beneath the skin, but the collection is only as hard-hitting as the listener is receptive to the experience. It’s musically calming like a dusky sky pinpricked with stars, but unforgivingly immediate in its focus, like the underlying promise of thunder.

Ten Stories is at ease with its ambiguity and style-shifting.

Sadness Sets Me Free is a truly consistent affair, one of the most pleasant Gruff presented us to date.

Sleigh Bells have crafted something entirely unique and that in itself is commendable, and the fact that they've done it with such a bold sound is all the more praiseworthy (or even surprising).

Not much on this album is immediate, and that’s a little disappointing, but more than any other National work, Trouble Will Find Me hints at depths upon depths hidden beneath the surface of thirteen very pretty songs.

Letter to Self is undoubtedly a pretty good option to start off this new chapter, and for Sprints it may be even the beginning of something truly special.

I can't help but admire the wondrous technicality of the band members, but I wonder if they could have deployed it in a more tasteful way.

On the whole, you’re getting looped, repetitious hooks that are accommodating the style of music being run with. Overall though, Melanie continues to deliver new music to a great standard, which, given how long she’s been in the game, is testament to her talents.

The album as a whole makes for an unnerving, yet oddly rewarding experience which needs to be undergone by every fan of eclectic metal.

Sulphur English is both a career spanning bow on an admirable decade and a determined look toward the future.

This is Animal Collective at their finest folks, inviting everyone in to see them at their peak and loving the freedom that comes with being on top of the world.

An Atreyu record is still very much about the feel, and this definitely feels like it's one of their own. Any of these songs could easily fit in alongside the material they have put out since 2006.

Is It? is his most experimental offering to date. It's not easy to follow, and it rarely does what you'd expect it to...but that's the beauty of it.

Along with Coagulated Bliss, this is one of the finest examples of audacious sonic development in the genre in recent years. It’s not what I expected, but it’s what I wanted and so much more.

Despite controversial lyrics, unconventional song structures, and a lofty concept, Blood Bitch somehow fits like a defiant glove against all the odds.

As a whole, Shadow Kingdom might not be a revelation, but it’s an interesting experiment with plenty of solid results.

Yeezus is a challenging album. Usually when people say that, they imply that there will be a reward for closer listening, but I’m not sure that there is with this album.

It’s the sound of musicians that know exactly what they want to be.

Sometimes The Blues is Just a Passing Bird is a quieter set of songs, and an EP that continues to reveal both the talent and ambition of one of the most exciting folk artists of recent years.

They sound and act unlike many of their contemporaries, and seem preoccupied with carefully carving out a unique space in the modern indie scene to inhabit. It’s a fun space, regardless of how you may get there - and I’m glad to be here.

Copia is Cooper’s greatest work to date, but it leaves even more roads for him to take.

The result is an album that is being asphyxiated by an extremely strong hand, and that proves to be the death of it all.

Omens is an excellent album, one that is both familiar for fans and a step further in Elder’s sonic evolution. All the noodling and meticulous structure developments paid off, since all songs flow impressively smooth.

The Worse Things Get is a listen that tears and breaks, an album defiant and loud as often as it is anxious and sad.

Burn Your Fire for No Witness’ eleven songs benefit greatly from the heightened sense of clarity afforded by the more spacious arrangements.

In self-reflection, Hopkins deconstructs Singularity; for all its avenues, detours, desperate reaches and anxious retreats, true inner peace rests on a foundation of simplicity. A modest concept, often taken for granted.

That's the trick which keeps ANIMA from losing itself in the beat-heavy, extroverted exterior. The Thom Yorke of 2019 has a newfound openness which endears him to us in a way the famously reticent singer never has in twenty-plus years.

Sparkle Hard remains an entirely worthwhile pursuit that resides within the upper echelon of Malkmus’ post-Pavement output. The way he experiments and progresses his sound is admirable, and it has resulted in some must-hear moments on this very record.

Ultimately, Killing Time is another solid collection of songs from Bayside... Yet another base hit, but still no game-winning home run.

Lamentations keeps you on your toes for its expansive, one hour time span. Even after multiple listens, the layers keep unfolding. William Basinski delivered one of his finest records by choosing to fragment his creative flow and explore dark ambient territories.

Sometimes, Forever is the most colorful album of Allison’s career, but once all her skeletons are revealed, that’s when she’ll reach her true peak. Until that moment arrives, this is the most convincing and complete package from Soccer Mommy to date.

WORLD WIDE WHACK is just another example of how Tierra Whack is so good at carefully removing the barriers between vocal performances, genres, and even emotions that it always ends up looking like no trouble at all.

All of The Migration’s greatest moments showcase a band at the top of its game, quelling the anxiety fans possessed during the record’s inception.

Eternal Blue’s introduction makes way for it’s more poignant and celebrated ending.

The record’s most profound and memorable experiences arrive at the hands of the tracks that are not afraid of crossing timelines, the ones that are unafraid of integration and understand there is no returning to the past.

Little of the album ever actually dips in quality (“Don’t Call Tonight” is the only real leftover nacho), the confusing aesthetics of the album cover and the decision to tack “Die With a Smile” on here do go a long way to making this package feel a tad disjointed and lacking a bow. Still, the aesthetic failings are only a disappointment because the contents are so dang good.

Upon repeated listens, Our Love reveals itself as quite the complicated record; nothing ever stays still for very long, whether that’s Snaith’s serpentine compositions or his lyrics, so often cast in shadows as they are triumphantly lit up.

It’s reductive and doesn’t help really anyone by saying the hooks just aren’t there on the level they used to be, but it’s telling that I searched the rest of Currents in vain for anything as immediate as the crashing waterfall of multitracked vocals on the chorus to “The Moment.”

Radical is by no means a reinvention or revelation for the band, but I wouldn't want it to be. In refusing to fix what ain't broke, ETID prove themselves once more as the reigning king of their peculiar, blood-splattered bouncy-castle.

Fragile, mysterious, and powerful, Preservation is one of the most elusively passionate albums of the year.

God’s Country is a sordid treat. It’s too personably grounded and idiosyncratically voiced to be mistaken for anyone else’s recycled diatribe; it punches up tenaciously every step of the way; it’s ready for the end of days, and it hates itself for this with a vengeance. What’s the appeal? It’s bloody wonderful.

All told, 333’s latter two-thirds are full of similar highlights, individually enjoyable but somewhat piecemeal as a collection. It’s full of threads that almost come together and, more importantly, a generous swathe of playlist fodder, but I can’t say I’m a huge fan of having three semi-distinct aftertastes in my mouth at the same time. Tinashe’s voice is impressive throughout, even if some songs don’t allow for the most engaging performances.

Sling does what all excellent folk records should: tell a story, and provide a glimpse inside the narrator's mind during that process. Sling's only real fault is that the melodies don't stick, but knowing the plight behind Claire's music makes it worth returning to again and again. Albums like that always seem to win us over in the end.

The Shepherd's Dog proves that Beam is worthy of the attention that he is given and actually a brilliant musical mind rather than some guy who got lucky enough to make a great album in his bedroom.

Many of these tracks do just straight up bang on an instinctual level. But in those times that this does work, when this really gets down to being something that ignites the mind and the heart, it does so very much in spite of its intellectual and artistic veneer, and not because of it.

songs is Lenker’s most complete, her most personal work; her least comprehensible, but her most comprehensive.

Musically, the release doesn’t live up to the promise of the vocals. There’s not much here beyond standard indie. Nonetheless, it is very pleasant to listen to.

Black Milk has simply made a completely unique statement in what is typically a pretty stale genre, and with Tronic he has confirmed his status as one of the best.

As it stands, it’s just another Vampire Weekend album, except the songs are less catchy and more sterile this time around.

eternal sunshine, at 35 minutes, doesn’t leave much of an impression, its titular statement of pretty regard for memories lost and time regained ultimately registering not as a platform for yearning nor as a vehicle for regret nor as ironic joke nor social commentary but as the broadest possible thread of aesthetic inspiration for pretty regard for such immaterial concepts as memories, time, gain, loss. The songwriting is the main culprit

It’s post-apocalyptic, and it’s a gorgeous awakening for a band that continues to define the standard within its genre.

Down and dirty, it grooves by on soulful power chords and Carney's relentless hammering of his kit.

An album that nearly matches its predecessor in quality while going with an entirely different formula to achieve its greatness.