It would have been easy to expect the music to sound heavy, even morose, following such tragedy. But some of the deepest wellsprings of renewal come from places of profound loss, and The Mountain proves it. This is a rejuvenating record. A healing record. One that finds light without pretending the dark isn’t there.

It’s an emotionally dialed-in, instrumentally ramped-up, and vocally memorable collection of mismatched ideas that somehow function together smoothly. Even amid the record’s eclecticism, it’s still a definitive Foxing experience.

Injury Reserve is as cohesive a hip-hop album as one can hope. This is thanks, in large part, to Parker’s ever-so-versatile production, though also, I think, Groggs’ and, in particular, Ritchie’s growing scepticism with modern hip-hop culture, and a heightened awareness of its pretensions.

Bird Machine impresses both as an unexpectedly resurrected album with that classic Sparklehorse feel, and as a distinct entity which sees the project move in a comparatively polished and refined direction. Even without the mournful context of its release, it’s one of the best indie albums of the year.

Spike Field does an impressive job of reflecting upon Maria BC’s recent musical endeavors while also advancing their sound.

Harlequin is a brash and goofy mess that will surely be kryptonite to those who were never willing to buy into her many, many eccentricities. For everyone else, it’s a three-word proclamation: GAGA IS BACK.

On Meir, Kvelertak prove that it's actually okay to play happy metal without appearing saccharine or contrived.

The last thirty minutes or so of Ghosts VI: Locusts feels that little bit more cathartic and rewarding by the end of it. What starts off as simple, sombre piano notes eventually swells up to synthetic ambiences, and the rise of a mechanically unsettling apex for the album’s closing quarter. Both of these albums require time set aside to really benefit from their journeys, but it’s time well spent if you’re willing to accept it.

There’s nothing about Ode to Joy that is meant to set the airwaves afire. It’s raw elegance; a surplus of creativity delivered with equal portions of restraint.

OK Human is an oddity and a warm digital hug; it's Weezer reacting to an endless, nerve-shredding, social-life-destroying period of isolation the way only Weezer can, drawing further inwards to themselves but somehow inviting us along for the ride.

The limber Assume Form finds Blake with a new lease on life. We were lucky to have something as insightful and forward-thinking as James Blake; we’re luckier still to have this one.

In Focus? is far and away his boldest record to date.

When the songs are this satisfying, when each guitar solo tears through cynicism like a wet paper bag, sometimes good old fashioned honesty is more than fine. It’s downright beautiful.

Patience is the key to the evolution of Glass, using tonal shifts and ghostly textures to compliment the improvisational mastery we are bearing witness to, whether or not it becomes something much more ghastly than beautiful.

It remodels slabs of wax in a way that not only acknowledges but embraces the pop potential those snippets of sound have been denied for so long.

Fontaines D.C. finally sound like they're in that better land, shedding their skins with an infectious grin and an even more infectious pack of choruses. Dare you to try and not smile along.

The sum total of their 2022 opus is a straight upgrade to SOUL GLO’s already brilliant back catalog, bursting with scorching new takes on old ideas and enough spirit and passion to set the entire scene ablaze.

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.

As a piece of esoteric yet engrossing art, I Inside The Old Year Dying marks one of Harvey’s finest creations yet.

Compared to its highly-praised predecessor, Bright Future might come up just short, brought down by its occasional unevenness in quality and weaker coherence as a full listen, but this latest album contains a multitude of Lenker’s finest work yet, while suggesting her reign at the top of indie-dom might be only just beginning. This is a triumphant work from an ascendant artist, and, oh yeah, also one of the finer folk albums of recent years.

The execution on Synchro Anarchy is often crazed and thrilling. Other than some brief, but ominous doom-inspired guitar sections in “Mind Clock,” it’s a nonstop thrill ride.

Jambinai have crafted a beast of an album with the perfect length to maintain its punch. Besides this, there are many idiosyncratic elements here which are hard to forget and easy to recognize once listened to. Though their music isn’t for everyone, once you get to the gist of it, it’s very rewarding.

What we have here is an album crafted by two high-profile artists that manages to live up to the names involved. It’s somewhat unexpected just how well they mesh, though, crafting songs that don’t sound the part of a first-time collaboration.

Birthing does not resolve so much as disperse into a shimmering lullaby afterworld. It releases you, maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s still playing and you haven’t noticed. Maybe you’ve changed afterward. Maybe not. It’s no new world for Swans. But it does feel like a world that’s more charged with that strange luminosity of those brightest days, when the edges of everything feel like they’re dispersing into the atmosphere. Whatever it is, it’s a beautiful thing.

This is grounded, back to basics writing that becomes the breath of fresh air for the album. This is the record the band should have come back with post Paul Gray’s death; it has all the hallmarks of what made Slipknot great in the first place, but it contains a lot of the good elements that came from .5: The Gray Chapter as well.

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.

Every loop [of "Nowhere2go"] reveals another layer to the undulating beat, but for the first time thus far it's Earl taking the spotlight, rising above the track with a tired yet hopeful rap that's so melodic he's nearly singing. And in case you were worried the boy wouldn't spit, it's followed quickly by "December 24", a song dating back years under the name "Bad Acid" which provides the strongest link to the more aggressive and conventional early 2010s Earl.

The raw energy and occasionally questionable anger of their early years has nicely matured into a confidence and consistency that they've never had before, a diverse set of songs which feels more than the sum of its parts thanks to the band's locked-in chemistry with their longtime producer.