Without over-embellishing it at all, you won’t find too many albums in the quintet’s chosen genre that betters the quality, consistency and diversity of Nerve Endings.

The band have since long cemented themselves as absolute songwriting savants in the genre and here on album number 10, they successfully build upon that legacy without skipping a beat. Though at times lacking ambition, the finest moments of Private Music are absolute all-timers – poised to throw a wrench into any “top 5 Deftones albums” list for the foreseeable future.

Young Fathers don't owe us anything except themselves, which Heavy Heavy feels like a true and warmly sincere extension of, a hand extended from the light across the dark, if we're willing to let go and take it.

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.

The results are daring, but she’s succeeded in making the best pop album of 2021, thus far.

It's the very definition of a grower, and this record has something Born to Die never had: more reflection.

What makes the trio’s unique blend of noise and hip-hop so effective, however, isn’t any kind of obvious messaging, or an attempt at allegory. It’s that you don't have to read it in any particular way.

The album captures the artist in scintillating form with its potent mesh-up of gutsy inventiveness and great maturity.

It's a worthy follow-up to Sometimes I Might Be Introvert, trading that album's shimmering polish and clear curation for a looser, more raw aesthetic.

I Love You, Honeybear is the rare love letter that manages to capture all the ugly, bitter sides to a relationship, the angles covered in shadow and hidden behind front doors, because it understands that these are the moments that make up a full and fulfilling relationship between two people with issues and histories and feelings that are more often awful and conflicted than not.

A better title might have been Thriving, because this record continues their remarkably consistent run and proves that they are still very much at, or at least near, the top of their game.

Bunny's performances are pristine: the record navigates its hooks, sonic sways and immaculate v..v..vibes with palpable ease.

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.

From continuous instrumental surprises to brutally honest lyrics, Trophy Eye’s sophomore effort is much more than a solid return, it’s an unanticipated punch to the gut--one that will leave the listener reeling as it rightfully earns its spot among the genre’s most passionate and achingly honest albums.

The Dream Is Over is one of the most unapologetically over-the-top punk albums in recent memory, and fitting proof that Babcock’s vocals are still fully functional.

What truly puts Swift’s fifth full-length in its own class is the combination of brilliant songwriting and incredible production. Those two strengths come together throughout 1989, but no track showcases it better than “Out of the Woods.”

This is damn good music. Like, legitimately sensational. Some of the best of 2023, actually.

Boris doesn't have any obligation to still be putting out records this captivating, but Dear most certainly captivates, and it has me excited for 25 more years of Boris.

They Want My Soul chases that sound far past anything Spoon have done to date in their careers. It’s a chase I hope never ends.

A delicately-crafted work fusing experimentalism and sheer sonic beauty, A Light For Attracting Attention stands proudly on its own merits as a top-tier piece of art rock, connections to a certain critically and publicly acclaimed band aside.

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.

There's a clear aesthetic touchstone for pretty much everything this album does. If you're the kind of person easily frustrated by such influence-heavy music you'll be turned away, but I admire the consistency of songcraft needed to hold together an album pulling from so many places.

It's both primal and audacious, raw and approachable, unnerving and at times comforting. Most of all, though, it tackles the relationship turmoil in a brilliantly inventive and thrilling fashion.

Talk of pretension aside, Rival Dealer is an important piece of work, a genuinely astounding and jaw-dropping release that deserves every pair of ears it can find.

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.

All in all, Henry St. marks a triumphant return for The Tallest Man On Earth, as he once more emerges from the Swedish countryside to take the folk world by storm. This time, though, he’s got companions, leading to a fuller and richer sonic journey than ever before.

It’s technical excellence as a musical product cannot be overstated. For a pop album to be this busy yet possess a pocket as deep and rich as underscores displays here is simply amazing.

Wildlife was a great leap forward, and Rooms Of The House further evolves their sound.