This record comprises fourteen tracks, yet managed to be nothing more than a bad concoction of bad pop punk, bad rap rock, bad lyrics, and vaguely competent performances.

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.

While it has highlights aplenty, they seem the kind of highlights that would fare better outside of the context of Listening To A Whole Album In 2022. ... As a start-to-finish experience, there’s a tendency for things to melt together as momentum flags, the sequencing grates, or you find yourself paying less than your most devout attention to the swiftly passing milieu.

The resultant journey is a jittery, joyous, glorious, gleaming mess: substantially less coherent than their previous outings, but no less endearing.

Never Let Me Go is a fantastic album, and it could even be argued that it’s the most consistent and engaging album of their career – certainly, it’s their most ambitious to date.

Imagine the worst Good Charlotte song repeating “I fell in love with an emo girl” as a chorus. ... If anything, the more trap-infused tracks gracing the record’s back half fare better, solely because they aren’t direct copies of some of the most well-known pop punk songs of all time. Moreover, the extremely overblown production doesn’t achieve the same maximalism here, making for a comparatively listenable bunch of songs. Key word: comparatively.

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.

This is a respectable effort, with glimmers of excellence in many places. Indeed, this could well be an entrancing listen for the right fan, but sadly, for me, neither the atmosphere or the instrumentation is enough to prevent my mind from frequently wandering away while listening.

Synthetic synapses spark and crackle via the Boston 5-piece’s revered fusion of nu-metal revivalism and modern mathcore shenanigans, each track adding another glorious jerking movement to their macabre, digital death rattle.

This latest effort is an unabashed classic hip hop record for you to either take it or leave it. The only disappointment is that it could have easily been more than this.

The Long Road North is a more sophisticated record than A Dawn to Fear, and Cult of Luna’s reputation for steely competence is quite at home in its various details and refinements. It’s less contingent on the intensity of individual moments, benefitting more from a pervasive atmosphere of the risky-wilderness-journey variety.

Present Tense is a comfort album on the pleasant side of catchy; it’s the perfect collection of songs to augment your mood when the weather climbs to twenty-something centigrade.

CRASH might not be up there with her best, but it's still a good pop album, and worth trying for any fans of the genre.

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.

The lyrics might not always make linear sense, but there’s a sort of appealingly weird logic to it all, and the musical soundscapes invite the listener towards some (often placid) alternate dimension. This may be a mood listen, more than anything, but as a soundtrack to a relaxed moment on a sunny day, you could do a whole lot worse.

The Jacket is an excellent foray into dream pop, country, indie, music, textiles, life, the stratosphere.

There is both a braggadocios confidence and an honest humility across all of If My Wife New I’d be Dead, a masterfully created dichotomy that is at the center of everything that CMAT creates.

Timewave Zero isn’t going to fuel everyone’s jet, and those looking for another slab of progressive death metal madness are sure to be miffed. Comparatively speaking, this little group from Denver set the bar dizzyingly high with their death metal albums one and two, but regardless of preference, Blood Incantation continues to impress—resetting the timeline as they go.

This album is so pure, so deeply felt that cynicism and pre-prepared anti-hype will just slide off it like a light breeze; that even low points like the clunky, ridiculous "returner" - the band's worst song, as if that means a lot for a band who've never made a bad one – barely make a dent. It's the finest work by a band finally mature enough to trust in sound and texture and feeling, and in good time it will outrun any lingering reputation and be crowned as a masterpiece.

It's a case of every sound in its right place, every idea developed in a way that is thoughtful and skillfully executed at best and pretty at worst, every track clearing that rather translucent bar that separates “that was boring” from “that was nice”.

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.

A doubling down on their unapologetically weirdest influences; instead, a scattershot sampling of basically every sound they can conjure, recorded in every different way. The only thing Dragon... cements is that nothing about Big Thief is set in stone, which is in its own way an absolutely remarkable achievement.

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.

If you felt Be More Kind and No Man’s Land missed the mark, FTHC will remind you of why you fell for Frank in the first place.

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

The Gods We Can Touch feels like a very round pop record, a little bit of everything for everyone, and it's been smartly complemented by great visuals (the video for "Cure for Me" is mesmerizing) and an impeccable production job by Magnus Skylstad, who doubles down as a drummer in her live performances, and multi-instrumentalist and producer Matias Tellez. Definitely a strong contender for one of the most interesting pop albums of the year.

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

Balanced on the bleeding edge of Yeule’s morbid visions, Glitch Princess practically crackles with vitality and affirmation in their desperate, unadulterated, damaged, awkward willingness to show all and be heard. Does that make it inspiring or depressing? I don’t care. It’s the most meaningful music I’ve heard in years.