The frustrating desire for something daring or interesting is never satiated. To be blunt, Evolution is essentially a blander version of Immortalized, which was the flavourless porridge version of Asylum, which was the graham cracker version of Indestructible. Even the song titles are uninspired.

There isn’t enough content in Mudboy to make it much other than a vibe. There are traces of A$AP Ferg, Waka Flocka Flame, and OG Maco locked beneath its consistently muddy sound. But there isn’t enough nuance or ‘moments’ to make it worth repeated listens (like Sheck’s mentor, Travis Scott).

[Untitled] is not a comfortable listen. It feels like something not meant for our ears--an incredibly spiritual and private moment that’s bound to compelling scripture and woeful, debilitating memories. It’s unfiltered passion that evades qualification; something to which we’d be performing a disservice by assigning a title.

While its current state still qualifies it for a highly regarded honorable mention and a high degree of critical and commercial anticipation for what's to come on Vaxis Acts II through IV.

A well-earned victory lap for a band that pulled itself back from the brink of oblivion to sound stronger than ever. A source of pure joy, indeed.

This album finds Kasher engaging with capitalism in a way not heard since “Dorothy at Forty”, but while that song pointed out the excesses of the stereotypical American dream, songs like “Under the Rainbow” lament the deletion of that dream from our lives.

The run starting at "XO" is the real DROGAS Light: a summery shimmer of pop-rap which hits breathtaking highs with the delicate jazzy musings of "King Nas", or "Happy Timbuck2 Day"'s Tribe Called Quest-esque tribute to a legendary Chicago DJ. The other album, where the Wave section of the album name is derived, which loosely comprises the first half of the album and revolves around a mythical group of vengeful drowned slaves, isn't just Lupe Fiasco's best but easily one of the greatest albums I've heard in recent memory.

Konoyo is a heavy album, emotionally speaking, in a way that is difficult to explain, yet can be expressed in a way that only someone like Tim Hecker would know. By destroying, contorting and reconfiguring these sounds, Hecker draws out the most visceral emotions in himself via soundwaves--his music being his therapy, and us, the audience, being his witness to his solemn excursion into his very soul. It's all too beautiful.

Love in Shadow is a startlingly unique addition to the band's catalog, and the most dynamic and interesting album that Aaron Turner has ever created. It's easy to see the multitude of cracks and smudges that besmirch this messy record. It's even easier, however, to just sit back and enjoy one of metal's weirdest and most fascinating releases of the year.

Brockhampton's simplest album, a choose-your-own-adventure funhouse where the experience is as hilarious or as touching as the mindset you go in with.

Realistically, Ta13oo is extremely satisfying from a consumption standpoint. It’s everything I’d want from a rap album this year.

Eery other song on the album has great lines that are now more easily understandable to boot. Pig Destroyer may have switched from a chainsaw that cuts quickly to a hacksaw that takes a bit longer, but they’re still creating phantom limbs, and the blood and viscera are still present.

This LP successfully condenses Spiritualized’s discography into a cohesive, 48-minute listen.

Big Red Machine is an exercise in expectation and follow-through, and in how throwing a bunch of good ideas at a song doesn’t make a good song, nor a bunch of great tracks onto vinyl wax a great album.

Patient, attentive listeners that take the time to find Magus’s secrets will be justly rewarded, as there’s a lot to be dissected here.

It wouldn’t be a Pineapple Thief record if we weren’t served some moody tracks. There are less than usual (no complaints about that) and often spiced with louder sections throughout.

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.

It's not necessarily a masterpiece nor was it ever meant to be a grand statement that'd capture everyone's attention; a low-key unveiling is more fitting, for it's the Collective's return to form, except in a way that nobody expected.

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.

There’s such a rush to these songs and, resultingly, it feels like Mitski is hurrying to capture something before it dissolves into smoke. It’s ephemeral because life is.

Nearer My God establishes itself as emo's first definitive document on digital-age despair.

Queen’s greatest asset is Nicki’s dual propensity for virtuosic verses and catchy pop elements. She skillfully blends them on the album’s best tracks.