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.

here’s nothing wrong with hearing these well-written songs, packed with sashaying grooves and wobbly synths, but by the mid-section of the record there is a definite sagging point, and the album doesn’t feel as effortless to listen to as Loner did. Even so, this is as enjoyable to listen to as its former, it’s just a shame that it doesn’t progress Caroline all that much as an artist.

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.

It doesn't all work, of course, and that kind of wacky humour nestled alongside self-empowerment anthems can be jarring, but it's all in service of Kesha re-discovering the fun, the joy, the rainbow.

You almost wish Friedberger would unleash more of that nervous energy that sometimes overwhelmed Personal Record, but with a record as lovingly crafted as New View, it would be wrong to ignore what remains: a songwriter with as distinct a voice as anyone in indie.

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.

If Guster can grow old and still sound so damn cheerful, maybe everything won't be so drab after all.

It crafts an atmosphere of quiet terror that also just happens to be a flawless sonic extraction of this very moment in history.

Grande is adding herself to several distinct sonic palates, putting her own indelible stamp on fundamentally disparate productions while letting them exist in different spaces. It doesn’t sound as free and natural as much of her previous work, but maybe that awkward hollowness is the point.

Their pre-NWOBHM influences continue to reign supreme in the best of ways, but this auditory backlash to all of the technology that we surround ourselves with on a day to day basis takes itself a bit too seriously for what most of us would come to expect from a Slough Feg record.

It’s a much more jagged experience; a patchwork as opposed to an exercise in consistency. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, Nightmare Ending manages to be Eluvium’s most evocative and interesting work to date.

Small blemishes aside, CAPRISONGS is cool, calm, composed, and immediately apparent.

Pure Music is transparently imperfect but remarkably enjoyable, while showcasing a lot of creativity, delivered in a spirit of wild abandon. True to form, Strange Ranger aren’t resting on their laurels. Who knows where they’ll go next.

If the point of music is for us to take something from it - whether it be an emotional response or a change in mindset or any sort of inspiration - then The Age Of Adz is the most selfless album ever recorded, and Sufjan is the most giving composer.

Carly Rae captures the glitz and glamour and grime and sex and directionless sadness and anxiety of her listeners so, so well, and the way it’s wrapped up in an endlessly compelling composition of synth jams, funk accessories, and modern electro-pop makes it even better.

The often minimalistic approach requires time to settle in, still the duo clearly had in mind the bigger picture. It definitely has a charm of its own, despite being hard to digest and most importantly, enjoy. In a way, it shouldn’t become a pleasant listen due to the nature of the stories it depicts. Even so, it’s a really moody one, the way every other Xiu Xiu album turns out to be these days. Taking risks is appreciated though.

Pastel is exchanged for matt, or maybe gloss, via 27(!) instruments, all played/recorded/produced/mixed by our BOI, not that you could tell he’s been that busy. “Memory Palace” is simplicity itself, Melotron and Mustel celeste sneaking betwixt bashful oaken strumming.

Though it's a lengthy record, at just over an hour, it's a rewarding one.

Despite its frustratingly monadic nature Howl does hold attention.

It’s warm, engaging, and possesses incredible aural imagery. This is a band that has truly resurrected themselves, having climbed out of a pool of stagnancy to craft what can only be considered one of the most creative and immediately likeable albums of the year.

What ultimately hits hardest is the aesthetic singularity of everything here.

ILYSM explores memories and how to process them in the here and now, while also being a record I expect to be remembered for a long time. It’s Wild Pink’s crowning achievement as a band.

With few exceptions, Ascension is channeled into one energy level, despite the variety of sounds. It’s busy lethargy: too hive-like to be soothing, too sedated to be invigorating.

The record’s stylistically confused (and confusing) bookends prevent the project from being a straight dream pop homerun. Nonetheless, the bulk of The Last Thing Left is essential summer listening: don’t overthink it, just enjoy the vibes.

Icky Thump, despite the presence of some simply insane over-indulgence, is a great album.

If you were one of the many that loved "I Am A Bird Now" when it was released, then you'll undoubtedly enjoy this just as much.

Bloodsports is the sound of a band who have rested, recouped and clawed back some of that old time vitality.

Despite the minor grievances and sore-thumb songs, and the fact that it's unreasonable to compare this record to its near-flawless predecessor, I Liked It Better When You Have No Heart is a sterling addition to Butch Walker's celebrated discography.