Dacus brings a sense of wit and sensitivity; Bridgers a quiet melancholy; Baker a raw ferocity. the record combines those individual instincts into a group effort that's compelling in all sorts of ways — and one that's also charmingly (and, in a way, fittingly) imperfect.

On Memento Mori, Depeche Mode turn this philosophical reminder into a beautiful, raw, and passionate rebirth.

It's a lurid, scuzzy, electrifying return to form.

Embracing her past while looking forward, on GOOD LUCK, FRIDAY makes her own.

Putting the tiger back in a 15-year old cage works well for the band, for the most part. You can feel Stump chafing against the creative box he's put himself back in, and the tension it creates in the music gives many of these songs a sense of immediacy.

93696 is an ongoing, turbulent act of engagement — its surging power will throttle you, blow you over with fury and ecstasy. But it will also pull you in for an embrace, to quell and allow for the chance to breathe and reflect.

A record that moves between genres and moods with a deft touch.

Generous helpings of angst and spice on Hot Between Worlds make for a raw listening experience, one which does not offer resolution or understanding, but rather a ding-dong-ditch challenge to psychic fisticuffs in the middle of the street.

Altin Gün don't reinvent the wheel so much as craft a sick new set of rims. They do their thing like nobody else, and they're always getting better at it — Aşk gives you everything you want, and you'll still want more.

It's a confident and proper return, written squarely from Gonzalez's comfort zone with a few fun twists from its undersung predecessor; It's exactly what we needed from M83 right now, even if it's sometimes a little too extra.

Radical Romantics is as joyfully alive with sound as anything that Dreijer has created in their three decades of music making.

This isn't an album of contrasts but a vibe to get immersed in, and it's a welcome reminder of what once made Rose one of the key figures in indie rock.

Guitarists Trevor Peres and Ken Andrews' tones are more menacing than ever, and Donald Tardy's intense, skull-shaking drums are perfectly captured. While vocalist John Tardy's screams have obviously aged since Obituary's early days, they still sound powerful enough to get the job done, and the entire band plays with a locked-in ferocity that never sounds robotic or artificial.

Though there's not much variation in volume or tempo, listening carefully to the record's subtle weather shifts is deeply satisfying; it's a dream state, enveloped by Uchis' inimitable voice.

Ugly explores the rapper's newly formed duality, deepening his songcraft and letting the raging flame dim to a white-hot ember; it's his most reflective album to date.

Bless This Mess feels like a rebirth; a boundless, alien take on Remy's explosive art-pop, its conceptual wildness and sonic friskiness allowing her to flex her vision and sense of humour in brand new ways.

Cracker Island is the most focused and least eclectic instalment in the band's discography — and for that reason, it absolutely breezes by.

Adorned with earthy imagery across almost every track — and highlighted by the groovy "One Bird Calling" and the livestock sampling "A Barn Conversation" — The Vivian Line is a love letter to his rural homestead and the loved ones with whom he shares it.

Raven's unstructured, experimental feel may be unsettling for some, but the project's only other downside is that eventually, it ends.

Like their previous albums, Land of Sleeper transcends when taken in as a whole, with tracks that are perhaps individually a bit workmanlike but soar when plugged next to the surrounding pieces.

Desire, I Want to Turn Into You feels like the arrival of Caroline Polachek, a statement of intent that finally lassos her myriad musical ambitions into something singular.

All Fiction is the mark of a new era for Pile. It's one that might take some listeners time to get used to, but it's an altogether richer and more mature sound that opens new avenues of sound for the band going forward.

It's an album that further solidifies his position as a genre-leading storyteller, and it will have you humming along as much as it'll have you looking over your shoulder.

Pollen's deep cuts can't quite rise to the same heights as its singles, though they maintain a similar mood and prowess that gives the album life beyond just a couple music videos or haphazardly-ordered playlists. The main standout buried beneath the surface is the stunning "Gibraltar."

The result is a far livelier and live-sounding album than one would expect from a group this deep into their career.

The thematic focus on the therapeutic powers of the natural world, and the protective presence of familial and spiritual energies, make The Land, the Water, the Sky feel just as suited to playing from the peak of a mountain as from the crackling speaker of a bar or bookstore.

This Is Why is undoubtedly Paramore's strongest work. At only ten songs and a 36 minute runtime, they left little room for error and made not one mistake.

With the world coming apart at the seams, Janet Weiss and Sam Coomes have never sounded more together, more single-minded and strong-willed. They made an album that needed to be made. Quasi went all-in on Breaking the Balls of History, and it lives up to its absolutely killer title.