Great albums don’t need to define a generation or open doors to other worlds, they just need to make great music--and Inquiry does exactly that. It’s a batch of quality pop songs--nothing more, nothing less.

forevher is a supremely catchy, slightly experimental (the horn sections in ‘princess leia’ couldn’t go unmentioned), but chiefly fun pop record that implements plenty of ideas that are completely new to Shura’s arsenal. ... With a sound this infectious and spellbinding, Shura has undoubtedly found her calling.

Few Good Things is a vibrant, technicolour celebration of life's triumphs and joys.

There’s plenty to be pleased about here.

M is painfully bland and too on the nose.

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

It all combines to create a very particular aesthetic, perfect for late night drives or dank smoke sessions, and the album doesn't have any higher ambitions than perfectly fitting these particular situations.

obZen is a thoroughly enjoyable and engaging record, and is without question an early contender for metal Album of the Year.

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.

A fun, taut, and compelling package of powerful black metal from a band of tried and true pros whose understanding of modern metal--and the subtlties and opportunities for bombast therein--is expert.

This rather back-loaded LP--which has fittingly been released in time for the Northern hemisphere summer--will not only go down a treat live, but also rates as Four Year Strong’s best record to date.

Even if she is done splaying out the furthest boundaries of her sound, one can hardly complain that she's doubling down on the qualities she's always excelled at when she sounds as refreshed and refreshing as she does here.

This is the sound of a cohesive unit letting it rip in the studio for by far the shortest album of their careers--and not a note is misplaced or wasted, despite how (intentionally) messy it sounds.

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.

Because beauty comes thick and fast with this album, and even though it's taken wholesale from more popular sources, here it feels like we're only now hearing it for the first time.

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.

What the album lacks in refinement and songwriting polish, it gains in the unflagging energy these tunes emanate.

Even more than any of their previous outings How To Stop Your Brain In An Accident bridges the gap between efficient noise rock, whip-smart comedy and timely social commentary.

23 has a lack of contrast, and that is really its only flaw.

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.

Occasional flourishes reveal brilliance (‘Lost’, ‘Start Again’), but mostly it’s a homogeneous trudge through palpable emotional intensity. It culminates in some stunning imagery, which makes it worth the journey especially when you consider the relative brevity of the whole thing.

Orbiting around the frivolity of human existence and overpopulation, Existence Is Futile is yet another successful chapter in a gothic horror novel that began thirty years ago. It is thus both a celebration and a testimony to the power of perseverance.

Lyrically, the album is demonstrably strong enough to stand on its own two feet, but I cannot explain just how phenomenally the narratives are bolstered by the instrumentals.

Heaven Is A Junkyard might be a comparatively trim release, but it contains multitudes.

His mastery of synths and the quality of his songwriting are apparent, but there also lies some regret that the album doesn't feature more vocals - Adigery's charisma and electricity sure helped Topical Dancer in that regard.

Edginess and quirkiness aside, the band's latest is an immaculately constructed beast that never straggles behind or overstays its welcome.

Black Up is at first mind-bending and perhaps confusing in its production and aesthetic, making it easy to lump in with fringe rap artists cLOUDDEAD. But to do so ignores the visceral qualities of the album, both in Butler's lyrics and in the production.

Andorra strikes out further, reaching deeper into Snaith’s box of musical curiosities which are, at once, tasteful and fruitfully tawdry. Phantasmagoric and stunningly organic, another crowd pleaser for fans of Daniel Snaith’s aural hallucinogens.

This lovely journey offers both lush and haunting moments without sacrificing any of the experimental edges or familiar sounds.

Wilco have had their peaks and valleys, but they have never sounded as confident as they do on The Whole Love.

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.

Weathervanes is a bit of a downer. Regardless, though, it’s Isbell’s reliably exceptional songwriting, the bursting-out-of-the-gate energy of the 400 Unit (just listen to the barnburner that is “When We Were Close”), and a talent for subtle but inescapable hooks which make the doom and gloom of these songs not only bearable, but rather inviting.

Option Paralysis equivocates the maturation of musical ideas over the Dillinger Escape Plan's storied career, as Miss Machine and Ire Works are currently looking as mere test samples leading up to this point. In all, Option Paralysis is a work of art, but don't think for a second they've gone soft on us.

Nine Types of Light proves how hard this quintet can hit, experimental New Yorkers or love-sick idiots.

Major/Minor is just another testament to Thrice's ability to do no wrong.

An album this tepid--which is to say, not completely tepid, but tepid enough--from a talent that immense, though, can only register as a minor failure. She can do better. The sonic virtues of her performance on Pang, however mixed, guarantee that I'll be listening.

Reset, in spite of its flaws, still offers a unique wrinkle in the Animal Collective fabric that's worth exploring. Even if you only come back for the saccharine highs, some of the record's more subtle moments will continue to tug at your ankles like a strong undertow.

No longer supported by two decades’ worth of prophetic scope or career-highlight compositions, Godspeed’s revolution feels as performative as it always has - and a good deal more hollow.

Ultimately the thoroughly satisfying maturation on display is enough to overcome any lyrical shortfalls.

The band doesn’t quite manage to fire on all cylinders for the entirety of their debut LP (with a few mid-album tracks seeing the quality level slip a bit), but a good chunk of this record is absolutely fantastic, blending grit and melody with an undeniable intensity, both musically and atmospherically. All told, warts and all, this is a record which absolutely merits inclusion among the year’s finest.

When We Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go is a volatile launching pad. This is anything but a safe debut, which could make Eilish a star In her own right--in the realm of dark pop--or alternatively could see her collapse under the weight of her enormous aspirations. It’ll be a wild ride either way, with plenty of dissention along the way.

It’s another worthy addition to a burgeoning discography. It’s a wonderful feeling when an old favorite is still in a groove and pumping out quality music after so many years.

For metal devotees seeking heaviness and shred paired with otherworldly curio, Crack the Skye is the be all and end all, but for anybody without a Celtic Frost tattoo, do not follow "the wise man's staff / Encased in crystal."

This album and a few videos of Stetson playing (the guy is a monster) will probably be enough to convince most people that he's a genius, but you don't need to be that smart yourself to appreciate what is probably 2011's most unique album.

It’s true that this is the warmest Janelle Monae has sounded in quite some time; her music now is more a magnifying glass than a mask.

Yet, for all its wonderfully dense qualities, A.A. Williams’ voice remains the star of her show. It’s as consistently powerful as it is calming: it fits tranquil acoustic soundscapes as well as devastating post-metal disintegrations.

Most of the songs here are growers, and even the one's that are supposed to be immediate tunes like "My God Is The Sun" and "If I Had A Tail", don't quite grab and hold on to our attention like "No One Knows" or "Little Sister".

Their anti-rave anthems have simply improved beyond what anyone could have possibly hoped for, and Sepalcure is set to turn a lot of heads, in and outside of its constantly argued over genre.

Átta has enough going for it to warrant an inspection from the rest of us, but it's both fairer and far more flattering to view it as the conclusion to a troubled chapter in the band's history than the enthusiastic heir to any hefty expectations you might otherwise burden it with.

Lots of artists aspire to create an album which matches the zeitgeist (easier said than done), but Mountainhead comes a lot closer than most. With its paranoid and sinister belly coalescing with the joke-y casualness of its exterior, this is yet another successful record from one of the quintessential bands of the internet age.

This is a damn good record that is worth your time. Sink into Collapse, and let it sweep you up in its collage of vast, intricate atmospheres.

A genuinely excellent plate of upbeat summer bangers. From the bedroom to the spotlight, the most surprisingly great pop album of 2021 may have already arrived.

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.

It's undoubtedly his most impressive collection of songs in over two decades.

In The End It Always Does is a mixed bag, but I wouldn’t describe it as a minefield; it’s more like a diamond mine and a minefield are engaged in a land dispute. Amber Bain’s ethereal vocals and meticulously crafted melodies make this an album that I certainly recommend checking out, if only for the allure of the stronger tracks that constitute a little over half of the record.

It’s an album utterly relatable because love, and heartbreak, are universal. It’s also something so amazingly personal that no one could precisely duplicate it, because every experience is specific to Tomberlin’s journey. That’s At Weddings: passion, devastation, depression , and strength rolled into one. It’s tenacious, and it’s beautiful.

It is far from perfect yet could never possibly get there.

They are masters of atmosphere and intrigue, and flirting with pop music has only further aided their chameleonic nature, with this being their most satisfying and diverse effort in many years.

Whether she’s touching on the impact of losing a legend like Bowie or battling her own demons, Strangers in the Alps is a vibrant and rare debut that’s not afraid to tell it how it is.

The lethal grindcore squad hits ten with this new release engrossing a catalogue that knows no missteps just yet. If hell is what you want, hell is what you'll receive. In abundance.

This record holds up on its own terms, and it’s pretty enough to do well on anyone else’s.

Regardless of the circumstances surrounding its creation, Curse Your Branches is Bazan's best album to date.

Violet’s biggest victory is not only sounding like the sum of its lofty parts, but also having a personality that’s distinctly its own.

The essence is there, and it’s a force, to be sure. If it doesn’t feel as raw, as dangerous, or as alive as it did in the past, well, once a wildfire’s burned through a place, it’s going to be hard for it to relight itself. But those embers are still glowing with that evil heat, and Rack still carries more than enough weight to rest among all but the best of the Lizard’s material.

At once a thorough progression of style, a blisteringly catchy indie pop record, a more accomplished indie rock record, and finally, a wordier but far heftier slice-of-life ode to being young and younger-than-you-feel (oh, love), We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed follows up on a promise and then some.

While its brighter moments are generally its better moments from my vantage, it's hard to deny the value and purpose of the storm in such a cycle. And for a band releasing their final album, developing such beautiful replayability is one of the sweetest parting gifts to us critics and consumers.

Civilisation II is the more substantial and overall impressive release of the two, showcasing stronger hooks, more versatile songwriting and a delicious enthusiasm for synth pyrotechnics.

This is yet another strong release from a veteran crew whose mature-era output puts the vast majority of bands of their tenure to shame. Additionally, as a relatively trim outing and with its inherent jamminess (that’s a word), Ancient Astronauts can serve well as a solid first experience for Motorpsycho novices.

For the first time, the band is inconsistent.

If you choose to look for the metaphors, there's beauty and even redemption to be found in Now Only; if you don't, there's a kind of quiet acceptance in the numbness.

Overall the album is a strong crowd pleaser so to say, though most of the album has to work a bit to get out of the long shadow of the major anthems hitting you early on in the first fourth of the track list.

Immunity presents itself as the missing piece of the puzzle, the catharsis we were conditioned not to expect. In this very moment, our preconceptions of Jon Hopkins have been entirely undermined--and there’s little to do but enjoy the hell out of the twist of events.

Overall, Our Raw Heart is a truly encompassing journey that requires multiple listens to unfold itself (much like any YOB album). There’s anger, frustration and melancholy to be found, still, at the end you’re left with a sense of relief.

This is a fantastic return that shows the artistic thrust we’ve come to expect from the band, but it’s done in a way that sheds their controversial desires for good, honest songwriting. It’s probably the most vastly experimental offering to date, next to Rosenrot, but it makes sure to add a trove of tasteful elements from previous sounds while it’s doing it.

Steingarten is a unique take on ambient/glitch inspired music however it’s lack of musical progression brings it down.

This is an album you can connect your own hopelessness with. It's weirdly relatable, this album, with not really its lyrical content but its various moods.

Good at Falling makes little headway into its own unique musical space, that’s something fans can hopefully expect in the future as Bain continues to distance herself from this vigilantly-traced launching pad. For now, here’s to another round of synth-laden pop balladry.

Their return more than holds its own as a direct progression of Mclusky, but there’s a sense that they themselves feel like expectations should be tempered just a hair, a self-awareness that ends up dangerously close to hamstringing the cocksure arrogance that’s such a crucial part of their charisma.

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.

On the one hand, this is a record which sees Destroyer recalibrate their formula, quite successfully, to avoid any potential staleness in the fifth incarnation of their recent run. As such, it feels like a record that most, if not all, music fans with any interest in Destroyer could enjoy. On the flip side, this album also continues the trend that Have We Met began, accentuating Bejar’s idiosyncrasies in a more pronounced way than before.

Fade is not an exciting record on its face, but finds itself in the emotional peaks that surface hazily here and there, through colorful production and exquisite songwriting.

A completely brilliant beginning to what hopes to be a long and bright career.

In the end, this is a very good, borderline excellent, album, weaving together a delicate atmosphere with well-crafted arrangements and (unsurprisingly) beautiful lyricism, but strokes of genius are few and far between.

The Car is crackling with a wickedly fun energy underneath the surface of its mid-tempo mugging, if you're willing to take the commute and meet it halfway.

JAY-Z tries to invigorate his musical career by connecting with himself for other people's sake. In total, it sounds like what it is, a business leader for whom the personal proves troublingly difficult to connect with.

Squire helps to mount these stories and it’s this that makes Lost Wisdom last.

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.

everything is alive feels practically self-contained, like a Slowdive record blissfully unaware it is a Slowdive record, most likely for the better. Simultaneously, the fact that everything is alive could have been a very different album is hard to dismiss. The songs that contain explicit traces of this minimal electronic framework are easily the strongest cuts and, most importantly, feel like a productive midway point between “Slowdive Slowdiving” and whatever Pygmalion worshippers keep hoping for.

It’s far from perfect, but Fearless Movement is another worthy statement from one of the most important musicians of our time, and a convincing announcement that there is still a terrifying amount of creativity to be discovered within the bandleader’s extravagant afro.

Despite avoiding it for a period of time, Yorke came through with his best solo album yet. He assuredly created a multi-layered horror soundtrack that serves as an engrossing confection of new musical landscapes in its own right while being essential to the film’s effect.

Vampire Weekend banks on showering its tribal pop with lyrics poised for literary analysis, skimping pretentious by appearing completely natural.

White Fields and Open Devices is simply one of those albums that is well-composed and well-executed.

The release may not be as fun as…well, Fun., but it marks yet another quality entry into Ruess & co.’s catalog.