Getting Killed is an album rightfully deserving of all the hype that's surrounded it. It sounds like something you recognize, but then nothing like you’ve heard. Think about everything you liked about ’00s and ’10s indie rock, throw that in a Cuisinart, then pile on the Velvet Underground, Television, Captain Beefheart, and very specifically OK Computer, and press start. That might get you there.

The album is a tectonic jump from the competent indie rock of 2021’s Projector and the 2023 Exile-era Stones rave-up of 3D Country to this: primal, percussive-heavy, bent riffs with Cameron Winter’s baritone leading the charge. You just need to hear it.

The skronked-out ripper (and album opener) “Trinidad” is one of those songs where I remember exactly where I was when I first heard it. When the chorus breaks into that roar — “THERE’S A BOMB IN MY CAR!” — it felt like a new window to my brain opened up. I was in a hotel room in Los Angeles. I took out my headphones and said to Ali, “This album is blowing my mind.” We headed to Amoeba Hollywood as it opened and I grabbed one of the last three copies off the shelves. Something was happening. You could feel it in the air.

From the creeping groove of “Husbands” to the euphoria of the title track, they’re completely dialed in. The record peaks with the piano rush of “Long Island City Here I Come.” It’s a jaw-dropping spectacle that loops like a Möbius strip until it suddenly tears, unleashing a feral cacophony.

Geese right now is a band at the vanguard. The torch has been passed. The kids are alright — and what a joy it is to hear them as they hit the stratosphere.

2. Bon Iver – SABLE, fABLE

Justin Vernon gets unfairly dunked on for the one record he made roughly twenty years ago that shot him to superstardom. Fair to say a lot of people stopped paying attention after that, because he never made another record like it. 2011’s Bon Iver, Bon Iver dove headfirst into becoming the greatest soft-rock record of this century, while 2016’s 22, A Million’s severe, distant veneer showed an artist obfuscating his talent to create a record that feels tortured but deeply emotional — someone skirting dangerously close to the heavens while keeping it just earthbound enough. 2019’s i,i continued that trend, but felt a little more human, like being let in on secrets long kept.

He’s built one of the most awe-inspiring careers of the past two decades. The records don’t arrive quickly. They’re labored, provocative, and usually stunning. They also take forever to arrive — usually a half decade passes with a few loose singles and guest spots here and there. So when SABLE, fABLE arrived this spring as a complete work (the acoustic SABLE, a wink and nod to For Emma, Forever Ago, had been released as an EP in the fall), something was different. This was someone looking back for the first time.

But when bridged with fABLE, it feels like something else entirely — a joyous celebration, clear-eyed and open-hearted. Whether it’s the “Kansas turning to Oz” effect of the brilliant, buoyant “Short Story,” the instant classic “Everything Is Peaceful Love,” or the jubilant gospel flecks of “Day One,” featuring newly minted superstar Dijon and the powerhouse voice of Jenn Wasner of Flock of Dimes, it’s pure joy. “From,” featuring Mk.gee on guitar, will stick in your brain like gum on the sole of your shoe.

Vernon has hinted that this record might be it for the Bon Iver project. If that’s unfortunately the case, the album closer “There’s a Rhythmn” says it best:

“I’ve had one home that I’ve known
And maybe it’s the time to go
I could leave behind the snow
For a land of palm and gold
But there are miles and miles to go
And I’ve been down this road before
There’s another chance to show
No need to crow no more”

Whatever that next turn of the road looks like, SABLE, fABLE is a beautiful demarcation.

3. Tyler Childers – Snipe Hunter

The year’s most surprising release comes from a guy who has consistently found ways to confound his audience since the start of his career. Snipe Hunter kicks off with “Eating Big Time,” which includes lyrics about blowing a grand on a luxury boutique watch, before careening into other songs that reference syphilitic koalas (“Down Under”) and the Bhagavad Gita and the Mahabharata (“Tirtha Yatra”). That’s just three songs in and I still haven’t mentioned “Bitin’ List,” about what he’d do if he got rabies: “If there ever come a time I got rabies / you’d be high on the bitin’ list.” It’s Childers’s weird, wild, great psych awakening.

There’s plenty to love here for the traditionalists, too — longtime fan favorites like “Oneida” and “Nose on the Grindstone.” But just in case you think this is some blip on the radar, the weird swamp groove of the album-closing “Dirty Ought Trill” will convince you to buy the ticket and take the ride.

4. Wednesday – Bleeds

Bleeds, the sixth album from Wednesday, isn’t a reinvention so much as a refinement — sharper, heavier, and somehow more vulnerable at the same time. It’s the sound of a band that knows exactly what it does best and digs in deeper.

Karly Hartzman’s songwriting has always balanced heartbreak and humor, but here it feels stripped of pretense. These songs don’t reach for beauty; they stumble into it. The images come fast and real — half-lit porches, late-night drives, bad habits you never quite kick. They’d been circling this approach before, but 2023’s Rat Saw God fully locked it in. Bleeds pushes further.

The album opens in a haze with “Reality TV Argument Bleeds,” guitars building pressure before chugging and finally breaking loose. There’s plenty of noise, but it’s controlled — more tension than chaos.

The band sounds incredible. Hartzman, bassist Ethan Baechtold, drummer Alan Miller, guitarist MJ Lenderman, and pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis have a sound that feels entirely their own. The guitars cut without overwhelming, the lap steel drifts in at just the right moments, everything slightly frayed at the edges. “Townies” is a twangy looper that nails that feeling in miniature.

“Wound Up Here (By Holdin On)” captures a weary resilience, while “Elderberry Wine” aches in softer focus and “Pick Up That Knife” crashes with a mix of rage and release. What ties it together is the pacing — the quiet moments carry weight, the loud ones hit when they need to. By the time “Gary’s II” closes the album, it feels less like a collection of songs and more like a conversation.

What lingers isn’t the riffs or the volume, but the humanity. Hartzman sings like she’s figuring it out in real time. Bleeds is one of the best and most honest records of this moment by an emerging master storyteller.

5. Sharp Pins – Radio DDR

A total revelation upon its release, Radio DDR is the crown jewel in the early career of Chicago’s Kai Slater, who this year alone released two records under the Sharp Pins moniker and managed to get the debut by his main project, Lifeguard, out on Matador. This collection — which I’m resisting extremely hard to compare to middle-aged guy records (and will fail in the next sentence) — feels like a fusion of Big Star and Guided By Voices. It’s that tender sort of songwriting Alex Chilton spent his career fighting, thrown through the same devil-may-care guitar and vocal filter Robert Pollard still uses to this day.

Somehow, Slater makes it all his own, and the result is something wonderful. The Beatles-esque “Lorelei” absolutely shines, “Every Time I Hear” cascades into a beautiful jumble, and songs like “Chasing Stars” and “With a Girl Like Mind” will confound you when you realize they were written by someone born the same year YouTube launched.

6. Craig Finn – Always Been

Since his first solo album in 2012, Finn has found ways to break new sonic ground to accentuate his songwriting. After a series of records with producer Josh Kaufman, he teamed up with The War on Drugs’ Adam Granduciel to produce his sixth — and best — album, Always Been, backed by a majority of Granduciel’s bandmates. The result is less Craig Finn + The War on Drugs and more vivid stories painted with new hues on a sonic paintbrush.

7. Big Thief – Double Infinity

Since Big Thief formed, the interplay between the band’s four members has been so dramatic it almost felt like they functioned as a single organism across their first five records. So when bassist Max Oleartchik departed in 2024, it raised real questions about how the band would — or could — move forward. It turns out they’ve never sounded so free.

Now a trio — Adrianne Lenker, Buck Meek, and James Krivchenia — they decamped to the Power Station in New York City and recorded with ten different session musicians. The result feels no less organic than previous Big Thief albums, but there’s an open-ended, clear-eyed atmosphere that feels brand new, especially on the shifty “Incomprehensible” and the loping, wistful “Los Angeles.”

This approach is never more apparent than on “Grandmother,” credited to the band alongside ambient artist Laraaji, whose vocals intertwine with Lenker’s over cosmic guitars and earthy percussion. It’s a great addition to the catalog of a band that continues to push itself as a towering creative force.

8. Greg Freeman – Burnover

Isn’t it great when a record jumps out at you out of nowhere? I hadn’t even heard of Greg Freeman prior to this April, much less listened to him. But when “Point and Shoot,” the first single from his excellent sophomore album Burnover, dropped, it was immediately clear this was the work of a singular talent who’d been making great music under the radar for years.

The word of mouth that lifted 2022’s I Looked Out from obscurity to buzz was completely warranted. The Burlington, VT-based Freeman built irresistibly catchy songs like “Colorado,” “Come and Change My Body,” and the drowsy “Long Distance Driver” out of dissonance and noise, creating that feeling of being nearsighted and putting on glasses for the first time.

With Burnover, Freeman’s talents come into focus with LASIK precision. The herky-jerky “Rome, New York” stumbles forward on clunky percussion and barroom piano before breaking into a singalong chorus. The breezy, twangy “Gallic Shrug” sounds like Malkmus in miniature, but with less wink and more heart. “Gulch” is a straight-up ripper, all slapdash chords and horns cresting at just the right moment.

If there’s one thing about Burnover, it’s that Freeman took what worked best on I Looked Out and ran it through the “enhance” filter. The riffs hit harder. The rough edges are smoothed just enough. It’s still plenty noisy, but with that Maldon finishing-salt kick.

The record closes with a hell of a one-two punch — a sad, seasick ballad with a cassette-tape sample cutting through the haze, followed by “Wolf Pine,” an atmospheric track of piano and strings that drifts before careening into a full-on wall of guitars. Burnover is the sound of Greg Freeman arriving. Be ready for it.

9. The Tubs – Cotton Crown

The second album from the Cardiff-based band is full of jangly chords and fleet-fingered leads. Every note feels propulsive, accompanied by the vocals of Owen Williams, often described as a cross between Richard Thompson and Bob Mould — a spot-on comparison, especially when he sounds like both on the same song.

I can’t overstate the thrill and breath of fresh air on the gliding opener “The Thing Is” and the chugging “Freak Mode.” It’s an absolute joy to listen to. The crown jewel, though, is the stellar “Chain Reaction,” a song about being a jerk and being fully aware of it: “I am a scammer in the game of love / I take it all and I won’t give it,” Williams sings over guitars and keys that take flight. Who knew self-deprecation and self-awareness could be so damn catchy?

10. Florry – Sounds Like…

A behemoth of a record from an alt-country band from Philly, of all places. “First It Was a Movie, Then It Was a Book,” with its synchronized leads and Francie Medosch’s twang, feels like a brawny Wilco track — a high compliment. While the verses sail with the confidence of a band together for a decade, it’s staggering to remember this is just their third album, seven years in.

“Waiting Around to Provide,” with its early-’70s Neil Young harmonica and crashing chords, nods to familiar sounds without becoming a facsimile. The scuzzed-out “Truck Flipped Over ’19” builds dramatic fiddle lines before unhooking into a thrilling racket. It’s a record that sounds lived-in but alive. With each listen, you half-expect some improvisation you missed before. Even when it doesn’t happen, the feeling that it might is a pretty wonderful magic trick.

11. Hotline TNT – Raspberry Moon
12. Ryan Davis and the Roadhouse Band – New Threats from the Soul
13. Sam Fender – People Watching
14. Dijon – Baby
15. Jason Isbell – Foxes in the Snow
16. Blood Orange – Essex Honey
17. Jeff Tweedy – Twilight Override
18. End It – Wrong Side of Heaven
19. Turnstile – Never Enough
20. Pig Pen - Mental Madness

Bleeds, the sixth album from Wednesday, isn’t a reinvention, but it’s a refinement that is sharper, heavier, and somehow more vulnerable at the same time. It’s the sound of a band knowing exactly what they do best and digs in deeper.

Karly Hartzman’s songwriting has always carried a mix of heartbreak and humor, and on Bleeds it feels stripped of any pretense. These songs don’t reach for beauty, they somehow stumble into it. The images come fast and real: half-lit porches, late-night drives, bad habits you swear you’ve broken but never really do. They've been doing this on their previous records, but on 2023's Rat Saw God, they completely refined the process and in turn made an all-time classic.

The album opens with a miasma of guitar with “Reality TV Argument Bleeds”. As they start to build, they then chug, and finally crest and caterwaul. There’s noise, but it’s purposeful, more like pressure building than chaos exploding.

The band behind her sounds incredible here. Hartzman, along with bassist, Ethan Baechtold, drummer, Alan Miller, guitarist MJ Lenderman, and pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis have created a sound all in their own. The guitars cut but never overwhelm. Lap steel glides in perfect moments. Everything feels lived-in and slightly frayed around the edges. “Townies” is a twangy loper that is a snapshot of what you’d exactly think.

“Wound Up Here (By Holdin On)” sets the tone. It’s a weary kind of resilience, the kind that comes from surviving rather than winning. “Elderberry Wine” is a showstopper. It leans softer but still aches, and “Pick Up That Knife” hits with a messy mix of rage and release. Each track builds its own world, but they all orbit the same feeling — trying to keep it together when everything around you is bleeding out.

What’s different this time is how deliberate it all feels. The pacing is perfect. The quiet moments have weight, and the loud ones crash through like they’ve been waiting for their turn. Even the sequencing feels thoughtful, pulling you through a story without spelling it out. By the time “Gary’s II” rolls around to close it, the album feels less like a set of songs and more like a conversation — between the band, between the listener, maybe even between versions of yourself you don’t talk to that often.

What sticks with you isn’t the noise or the riffs — it’s the humanity. The way Hartzman sings like she’s sitting next to you, trying to figure it all out in real time. It’s messy and raw, but that’s the whole point. Bleeds doesn’t try to patch the wound. It just stares at it and says, “Yeah, that’s what it feels like.” It’s another extraordinary leap from one of the best bands making music today.

Bleeds is out now on Dead Oceans.

Isn’t it great when a record just jumps out at you out of nowhere? I hadn’t even heard of Greg Freeman prior to this April, much less listened to him. But when “Point and Shoot,” the first single from his excellent sophomore album Burnover, was released, it was immediately clear this was the work of a singular talent who’s been making great music under the radar for a few years now.

The word-of-mouth that lifted 2022’s I Looked Out from obscurity to buzz was completely warranted. The Burlington, VT-based Freeman built irresistibly catchy songs like “Colorado,” “Come and Change My Body,” and the drowsy “Long Distance Driver” out of dissonance and noise, creating that feeling of being nearsighted and putting on glasses for the first time. Plain and simple, it was a gem.

With Burnover, Freeman’s talents come into focus with LASIK precision. The herky-jerky “Rome, New York” stumbles forward on clunky percussion and barroom piano before breaking into a singalong chorus. The breezy, twangy “Gallic Shrug” sounds like Malkmus-in-miniature, but with less wink-and-nod and a little more heart. “Gulch” is a straight-up ripper, all slapdash chords and horns cresting at just the right time.

If there’s one thing about Burnover, it’s that Freeman took what worked best on I Looked Out and ran it through the ‘enhance’ filter. The riffs hit harder. The rough edges are smoothed out just enough. It’s still plenty noisy, but with that Maldon finishing-salt kick.

The record closes with a hell of a one-two punch—a sad, seasick ballad with a cassette tape sample cutting through the haze, followed by “Wolf Pine,” an atmospheric track of piano and strings that drifts before careening into a full-on wall of guitars and noise. For an artist who just spent a record writing songs that crackle and zip, the sheer weight of the closer is a reminder of Freeman’s range and ambition.

Burnover is the sound of Greg Freeman arriving. Be ready for it.

It's out now on Canvasback/Transgressive.

Japanese Breakfast’s new album, For Melancholy Brunettes (And Sad Women), is a study in restraint and reflection. Where 2021’s Jubilee reached for the sky with lush, sparkling pop anthems, this record is more grounded—not somber, but deliberate, with a widescreen scope. It steps away from the exuberance of her last release and the grief of Michelle Zauner’s earlier work to explore something quieter and more interior.

Following the breakout success of Jubilee and her memoir Crying in H Mart, Zauner’s fourth album is full of nuance and detail, drawing you in inch by inch instead of hook by hook.

The record opens with a swirl of mandolin and gamelan on “Here is Someone,” immediately plunging you into a new world. It’s almost trance-like, lilting you along until you’re carried into the first single, “Orlando in Love”—the lyrics of which inspired the album’s title, itself lifted from a John Cheever short story. The song is a meditative piece, lifted by romantic, rising strings. Both opening tracks serve as sonic tablesetters for songs with slightly more heft. That shift arrives with “Honey Water,” a dark, churning track about an unfaithful partner. “Mega Circuit” moves through glassy percussion before giving way to the delicately picked “Little Girl.”

Much of the album feels intimately constructed, made for quiet downtime, low moments, and deep listening. The twangy “Picture Window” is about as loud as it gets—until the dusty duet “Men in Bars.” Out in the distance of the setting sun comes a voice as familiar as it is surprising: Jeff Bridges. It’s the biggest left turn on a record full of them.

For Melancholy Brunettes (And Sad Women) feels elemental. It’s as light as air, yet as dense as packed snow. It may not be the record most expected to follow Jubilee, but it reveals an artist in full command—creating as she sees fit, guided by instinct, not expectation.

For Melancholy Brunettes (And Sad Women) is out now on Dead Oceans.

When anyone asks me what this record sounds like, I say it’s “indie rock made by 38-year-olds.” While I’m probably off the mark—singer/guitarist Tyler Jordan is only 36—these breezy, beautiful, and propulsive songs soar with solos that truly take flight. They’ve soundtracked a year filled with high highs, low lows, and gut-wrenching heartbreak. “If It’s Gone” is an all-timer with lines like “May you always know your value/Don’t let fuckers sell you short,” while the crackling “Can You See Me Tonight?” is simply an intensely enjoyable listen.

“Self-destructor” will burrow into the deepest recesses of your mind, as will the sweet love song “Vaughn.” There are few better lines than right before invoking the song subject’s name, “In a year when everything was going wrong, I’m so glad that I met you.” Certainly true. Turn this one on, close your eyes, and let it flow through you. It’s complicated, stormy, beautiful, and, most importantly, so much fun.

2. Zach Bryan - The Great American Bar Scene

Zach Bryan is one of the biggest stars in the world right now, so it’s pretty strange that he released an album this year that feels weirdly slept on. The Great American Bar Scene, released only 314 days after his self-titled album, is another step in his transformation from country-rock poster boy to a singer-songwriter blending rock rave-ups and Bon Iver-infused folk. While many of these songs might not contain the firepower you’d expect for massive crowds, they’re some of the best of his career.

There’s the bubbling bass undercurrent in the morally murky “Oak Island,” the stellar duet “Sandpaper,” where Zach and Bruce Springsteen sound like younger and older versions of the same man singing in tandem, the solemn harmonica of “Pink Skies,” the rave-up energy of “American Nights” (sure to be huge live on subsequent runs), and the mounting singalong of “28.” There’s so much to love here. Dig in and listen deep.

3. Waxahatchee - Tigers Blood

Katie Crutchfield, recording as Waxahatchee, has once again delivered an album brimming with timelessness. Tigers Blood, her sixth record, builds on the sonic rebirth of 2020’s Saint Cloud, where a pivot to country-inflected songwriting and the clarity of sobriety under Brad Cook’s stewardship set a new high-water mark. If Saint Cloud was a rebirth, Tigers Blood is the sound of that new life fully realized. These songs transcend mere craftsmanship; they feel like standards, rooted in authenticity and earned emotional depth.

The record brims with standout moments. “3 Sisters” shifts from harmonized beauty to a driving stomp, while “Ice Cold” blends twangy guitars with Crutchfield’s soaring vocals. MJ Lenderman, Spencer Tweedy, and the Cook brothers contribute to the warmth and immediacy of the album, with tracks like “Right Back to It” embodying the perfect marriage of their talents. Crutchfield’s duet with Lenderman is a career highlight, her falsetto soaring over his sleepy drawl in one of the year’s best songs. From the southern slow burn of “Burns Out at Midnight” to the communal title track, Tigers Blood captures Crutchfield at her peak, documenting a moment where everything—challenges included—feels beautifully and profoundly okay.

4. Japandroids - Fate and Alcohol

How do you make peace with something you thought was over? That question lingered as I spent months with Fate and Alcohol, the fourth and final album from Japandroids—a band that defined my twenties and carried me into my thirties. When they announced the record, it was a shock. The fact that it’s their last? Not so much. Japandroids always burned like a firework, bright and intense, and every album cycle felt like it might be the end. After seven and a half years of silence, they’ve returned with a record that isn’t a grand goodbye but something more satisfying—a rediscovery of the chaotic, joyful energy that made them unforgettable in the first place.

Fate and Alcohol kicks off with “Eye Contact High,” a ripper that immediately pulls you back into their world of rumbling riffs, splashy drums, and Brian King’s howl. From there, it rolls into standouts like “D&T” and “Positively 34th Street,” a miniature epic about regret and second chances that ranks among their very best. Tracks like “Upon Sober Reflection” and “Fugitive Summer” channel the Celebration Rock era, while “All Bets Are Off” feels like the final page of their story—exhausted, bittersweet, and ready to go home. These songs aren’t meant to be overanalyzed; they’re meant to be blasted through speakers or devoured on late-night headphone listens. Japandroids gave us one last shot at full-throttle, messy, romantic chaos, and while it’s imperfect, it’s everything you could hope for from a band that always left it all on the table.

5. MJ Lenderman - Manning Fireworks

Manning Fireworks isn’t an album that introduces the next great songwriter—it’s a definitive confirmation of what you might already know if you’ve listened to MJ Lenderman’s previous work: he’s already great. This album is where it all comes into focus. Songs like “Wristwatch” and “She’s Leaving You” are so perfectly crafted that it’s hard to believe they’re not covers of timeless indie rock jams from 30 years ago. And then there are the lines—memorable, quirky, and spot-on. I can’t count how many times I’ve found myself referencing a “houseboat docked at the Himbo Dome” in conversation, or how true the line “Don’t move to New York City, babe / It’s gonna change the way you dress” feels. "A-woo! Bark at the Moon", indeed.

6.  Johnny Blue Skies/Sturgill Simpson - Passage Du Desir

There’s no point in trying to figure out what motivates Sturgill Simpson. Right now, it seems like he’s embracing a completely different moniker, creating some of the best songs of his career with a jam band-like energy and a tour to match (some shows stretching over 3 hours!). “If The Sun Never Rises Again” is gorgeously delicate, with Simpson’s voice gliding effortlessly over the track, while the easy country vibe of “Mint Tea” transitions smoothly into the stunning “One For The Road.” It’s one of the year’s best and most surprising releases.

7. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Wild God

Nick Cave has masterfully navigated grief through immense heartbreak and tragedy in his recent albums, which have served as beautiful meditations on the subject. Wild God, his first with the Bad Seeds in five years, however, feels like a sliver of light, like on "Joy," where Cave is visited by a 'flaming boy in giant sneakers' saying “we've all had too much sorrow is over/now it’s time for joy.  It's the cresting over the darkness of an endless night. Wild God is awe-inspiring, heart-filling, and, at this moment, desperately needed.

8. Hurray For The Riff Raff - The Past Is Still Alive

Hurray For The Riff Raff continue their impressive hot streak with The Past is Still Alive, reuniting with producer Brad Cook to craft a record that feels a little more direct than 2022’s excellent LIFE ON EARTH. Alynda Segarra delivers standout tracks like the pastoral “Buffalo,” the vigorous “Hawkmoon,” the swirling beauty of “Colossus of Roads,” and the poignant duet “The World is Dangerous” with Conor Oberst. It’s a record that manages to feel both intimate and expansive at the same time.

9. Jack White - No Name

Jack White surprise releases a record with no title consisting of 13 songs that sound like lost White Stripes classics. It’s unrelenting, hard rocking, and most importantly, the most fun thing he’s done in years. That’s it. That’s the writeup. Crank this one up loud.

10 . Restorations - Restorations

Restorations have always occupied that hard-to-define space between raw nerve and quiet resolve, where vulnerability meets defiance. For me, they’re more than just a band—they’re a tether to a self I barely recognize anymore. Their music found me before what I now think of as “The Thousand Yard Stare,” before life split wide open. Three months into COVID lockdown, I became a Dad three months prematurely. My son came into the world weighing 1 lb, 11 oz, in the care of masked doctors and nurses whose faces I can’t even picture. Those months rewired everything—how I connected with people, how I saw the world, even how music moved through me. What once flowed easily now feels like it takes blunt force repetition to hit my bones. But Restorations? They still get into my marrow.

Their fifth album, their first since 2018, is no exception. Restorations remain a band that thrives on uninhibited passion and crackling energy, crafting songs that feel lived-in and alive. But this record hits differently. The band—Jon Loudon, Dave Klyman, Dan Zimmerman, Bean Friend, and Jeff Meyers—had to reimagine their creative process, spread out across Philadelphia, Asheville, and Buffalo. They carved out focused bursts of time at Retro City Studios and Gradwell House to meticulously shape and reshape each song. The result feels deliberate yet visceral, kicking off with “Field Recordings,” a track that announces this new era with all the unrelenting force and heart you’d expect. Restorations are still here, still vital, and still finding ways to speak directly to the space between your throat and your heart.

11. Touche Amore - Spiral In A Straight Line

12. Vampire Weekend - Only God Was Above Us

13. Karate - Make It Fit

14. Jamie xx - In Waves

15. Cindy Lee - Diamond Jubilee

16. Kendrick Lamar - GNX

17. High Vis - Guided Tour

17. Mk.Gee - Two Star and the Dream Police

18. Father John Misty - Mahashmashana

19. Pearl Jam - Dark Matter

20. Cassandra Jenkins - My Light, My Destroyer

How do you make peace with something you thought was over? Do you throw yourself back into it full force, or do you acknowledge the passing of time and approach it with the tentativeness of someone who has to keep two small children safe on a daily basis?

I’m not sure how to write this review. I’ve spent the better part of the last two months listening to a record by a band that defined my twenties and carried me into my thirties. Japandroids threw everything they had into every song, every note. All you could do was marvel at the fact that the firework even lit in the first place.

When the band announced Fate and Alcohol, their fourth—and final—album, it was a massive surprise. The fact that it was their last? Not so much. Every Japandroids album cycle always felt like it could be the end. Each release took longer, followed by an intense tour, and then radio silence. Their music was so labored, intense, and physical that it never seemed sustainable. Towards the end of the Near to the Wild Heart of Life run, I saw them as a surprise opener for a show in Asbury Park, NJ. After the headliner started, I stepped outside the hot venue and saw singer/guitarist Brian King pacing in the parking lot. I asked if he was okay. He said, “Yeah, I just can’t handle the noise. My ears are cooked.” That summed it all up. Months later, they played what ended up being their last show in Toronto.

Years went by, and it felt like they quietly called it a career. By this year, they hadn’t released a record in seven and a half years or toured in six. They even canceled a 10th-anniversary celebration of Celebration Rock at Shaky Knees Festival in 2022. In the end: three albums, a singles compilation, a few other assorted tracks, and some ripshit, sweaty-as-hell live shows. We were lucky to get that much.

While nothing happened with Japandroids, everything happened with me. I got married. I had two kids. My brain is scattered across several places at once. Is this why I’m bottlenecked writing about this album? Is it because I can’t access how music used to make me feel? Am I sad or angry that the band is effectively over, or am I grateful for what’s in front of me? I don’t know if I have an answer, but I can tell you what it feels like to rediscover a familiar thrill when you least expect it.

“Chicago” hit my earbuds at 3:45 a.m. one night in late July. A friend on the West Coast found it after midnight on a streaming service. Brian King’s echoed vocal before the opening guitar riff sounded like a satellite transmission from the void. But then there it was. Those jangly, messy guitar chords, the splashy drums, and that verse: “GOD DAMN MA’AM I’M SWEATING THROUGH MY SHIRT/ANYMORE, MY BODY’S GOING TO BURN/RIGHT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.” Then came the chorus, something that hits my bones as a Chicago native: “I’m sorry baby/we call it like we see it in Chicago.” I never fell back asleep. I listened to it 25 more times on my drive to work. Just like that, I felt like I was 15 years younger.

I found Japandroids the way many in their early twenties did in the late 2000s—through music blogs. Their raw 2009 debut, Post-Nothing, was buzzing everywhere. At first, I dismissed them as a No Age ripoff, but then I realized that their murky gang vocals, serrated guitars, and crashing drums stirred something in me.

And I could pinpoint that feeling to a place. In early 2010, I found myself in their hometown, Vancouver, taking the SeaBus across the harbor with Post-Nothing on my iPod. I experienced Darkness on the Edge of Gastown. I was a rocker in East Vancouver. (Not really, but they have song titles that let you make cool hyperlocal references.)

By 2012, I was living in Chicago after moving out of NYC. I was in a gray period, unsure of my direction. That summer, Celebration Rock arrived—a youthquake of a record that quickly became one of my all-time favorites. It’s a testament to being young, wild, lost, and romantic, all while going full throttle. It remains one of the few bright spots from an otherwise tough time.

Then came 2017’s Near to the Wild Heart of Life, their jump into more polished, textured songs with synths and layered guitars. It showed maturity from a band that had exclusively written about high-stakes love and thrills with the pedal to the floor. As I entered my thirties, it felt perfect. The record didn’t launch Japandroids into the next stratosphere, but it’s criminally underrated. I hope time is kind to it.

Fate and Alcohol doesn’t feel like a final goodbye. It wastes no time, starting with the no-holds-barred ripper “Eye Contact High.” King narrates falling in love at first sight while walking the streets of Toronto. It’s classic Japandroids: rumbling riffs, thunderous drums, and Prowse’s backing vocals—“On an eye contact high/right there, in the street/on an eye contact high/I can barely breathe.” Just like that, you’re back in their world. From there, the album rolls into “D&T” and then “Alice,” continuing to build on that frenetic energy.

The band returns to their guitar-and-drum ruckus from the first two records but pulls back slightly from the sonic ambition of Near to the Wild Heart of Life. The songwriting remains strong—“Upon Sober Reflection” has an all-time Japandroids chorus: “How can someone so careful with their touch?/At the same time be so careless with their love,” while “Fugitive Summer” sounds like a Celebration Rock-era track with a bit more grit. “A Gaslight Anthem” even features a rare lead vocal from Prowse over soaring guitars.

Then there’s “Positively 34th Street,” easily one of the ten best songs they’ve ever written. It’s an epic in miniature, a capstone song about regret, lost love, and second chances, culminating in the choice whether or not to hit send on a text message that could change everything. It’s life-affirming in a way that words can’t fully capture—just listen to it.

“All Bets Are Off” comes towards the end. It’s another screeching rocker, but King sounds exhausted. He’s boarding a plane, ready to go home: “I wanna cry, my way, back to America/and I don’t give a damn, ain’t even/trying to hide, gimme two bottles/of anything, leaving, one I love.” A verse later: “This thing, baby, I’m all in/lost and lovesick/until I see you again.” In a recent interview, King revealed he’s now living in Ann Arbor, Michigan, with a baby on the way. It’s all over, because it has to be.

Maybe that’s what makes this album satisfying—it’s not about a grand goodbye. These songs aren’t made to be overanalyzed; they’re meant to be blasted through speakers or listened to too loudly in your headphones. It’s one last gift from a band that made fucking up and getting fucked up sound romantic. It’s a last chance to go full throttle, to throw everything you’ve got at the wall. It gave me a little closure and a lot of joy. Like the band, the album is imperfect, but it leaves nothing on the table. The fireworks have exploded, the stars are fading, but the smoke still hangs in the night sky. The thrill was always in the fact that it burned so brightly to begin with.

Fate and Alcohol is out October 18 on ANTI -.

It’s a special thing when a record arrives with a sense of timelessness and a feeling that the songs have always somehow existed in the echelon of popular music. Katie Crutchfield was already a decade into her career recording as Waxahatchee upon the release of 2020’s Saint Cloud, a sonic rebirth, pivoting from indie rock to more country inflected tunes. Her sobriety, coupled with the stewardship of the recording by Brad Cook, brought a new clarity in songwriting and sound that immediately became the band’s new high water mark. That is until now. If Saint Cloud was a rebirth, Tigers Blood is the sound of that new life well lived.

The sixth album under the Waxahatchee moniker moves the goalposts yet again - it’s an artist that’s completely hit her stride and making something that sounds less like a band and something more like transcendence. These songs feel like standards, imbued with a sense of authenticity that has been attempted to be manufactured and commodified by so many artists who never truly get it right. Here, everything feels like it’s been earned.

“3 Sisters” is a beautiful blend of harmony and organ before delving into a propulsive stomp, while “Ice Cold” blends twangy guitars with Crutchfield’s soaring vocals. It sounds like a band having a great time playing in a room together. The personnel on this record might have something to do with that.

MJ Lenderman, known both for his own recordings and as the guitarist of Wednesday, plays rhythm guitar on the record as well as harmonies on several tracks, while Spencer Tweedy shows up on drums and percussion. Brad Cook handles bass and a few other instruments while Brad’s brother, Phil, contributes banjo, organ and piano. There truly is no greater example of the marriage of these elements than on Crutchfield’s duet with Lenderman, “Right Back to It”.

Cook’s banjo intertwines beautifully with Lenderman’s guitars while Tweedy’s backbeat binds it together. Then Crutchfield’s voice sails in: “Photograph of us/In a spotlight/On a hot night/I was drifting in and out..” and then you’re right in the middle of a scene you can almost reach out and touch. Crutchfield and Lenderman sing the next lines together, blending beautifully. her falsetto over his sleepy drawl - “I've been yours for so long/We come right back to it/I let my mind run wild/Don't know why I do it/But you just settle in/Like a song with no end If I can keep up/We'll get right back to it”. It’s easily one of the best songs of the year, if not this young decade.

“Burns Out at Midnight” is a killer blend of southern fried slow burn harmonica and clodding chords, “Bored” is an excellent rave-up rocker with a soaring chorus. “Lone Star Lake” is a beautiful loping ballad that will be covered by another artist in no time flat. These songs simply are just so full-bodied and formed that it’s impossible to believe that they are new to 2024.

The record’s final three songs - the astonishing acoustic “365”, the easy beat of “The Wolves” and the rousing, communal title track really deliver the message of Tigers Blood. Waxahatchee, or Katie Crutchfield is at that sweet stage that so many of us hope and aspire to, in that liminal middle stage, where it can all just feel okay, the challenges are still challenges but hinge a little less on blowing it all up. “You know I stay in a hurry, babe/I miss a lot of good things,” she sings on a verse of “The Wolves”. Not on Tigers Blood. They’re all right here, perfectly captured and documented to enjoy for all time.

Tigers Blood is out now on ANTI-.

I don’t know what it is about The Window that I keep coming back to it so consistently. From the slow boil of “Making Noise for the Ones You Love” to the jangle pop of “Morning Zoo”, the anthemic “It’s Alive” or the raging tides of 8 minute plus jams (“Black Earth, WI”, looking at you.). It’s just a total breeze. It’s a record not married to a time and place and would be imposible to pinpoint that without context. It’s one of the most purely enjoyable records I’ve heard in some time, and a runaway pick for my album of the year.

2. Wednesday - Rat Saw God

Wednesday have quietly and quickly become one of the best bands today based on their varied and quickly growing catalog. Rat Saw God is their fifth LP since 2018 - this one coming off of 2021’s Twin Plagues quickly followed by their knockout covers LP “Mowing the Leaves Instead of Piling 'Em Up. Here, singer/guitarist Karly Hartman writes in slice-of-life specifics take the riff and lap steel instant classic “Chosen to Deserve” - “I was out late, sneakin' into the neighborhood pool/Then I woke up early and taught at the Sunday school/If you're lookin' for me/I’m in the back of an SUV/Doin' it in some cul-de-sac/Underneath a dogwood tree”.

On the flip side, there’s a small observation about being in love while experiencing chaos on the quasi duet with Hartzman’s partner, Jake Lenderman, (also known as MJ Lenderman): “I like sleepin' with the lights on/You next to me watching Formula One/Truck was too tall for the overpass/Got the top ripped off/didn’t see it happen/I just saw the aftermath”. It’s the tiny details that are woven into the noise and twang tapestries Wednesday creates that makes them so memorable.

3. Hotline TNT - Cartwheel

It almost feels a little weak to make the following comparison because it’s just so readily apparent, but hearing Hotline TNT’s Cartwheel for the first time reminds me of the first time I heard Loveless by My Bloody Valentine when I was 17. I am not a musician by any stretch, but for someone with the ability to pull sounds out of a guitar that sound like they’re vacuuming up the universe with every strum is something I marvel at. It’s thrilling to hear the opening bass and feedback blips of “Protocol” that seemingly jangle into infinity with Will Anderson’s voice gliding over it all. This continues over the album’s twelve tracks, whether it be the see saw riffs of “History Channel” or the woozy atmospherics and chitter-chatter of “That Was My Life”. I truly don’t know how this was made, but damn if it doesn’t feel effortless.

4. Sincere Engineer - Cheap Grills

Deanna Belos has always made good records, but her third Cheap Grills is truly great. She’s sharpened her songwriting skills even further that every hook is memorable - I find myself singing passages of the album's songs all day long. I think it’s because something about her music feels so familiar to me, emblematic of the bands I would see in the northwestern Chicago burbs as a teenager. Not that I was ever really consistent with that, but I remember lineups of local groups in parking lots of VFW halls, battle of the bands in school gyms and random one-offs at other venues in the area. It feels like a reminder of that time in the early 00’s where kids I went to school with  spoke of seeing bands at Fireside or Metro like The Lawrence Arms or listening to the dearly-departed Slapstick or another burgeoning Chicago group you might have heard of - Alkaline Trio.

Sincere Engineer’s music is not really like that at all, but it feels spiritually connected. On “California King”, she sings, “Maybe everything around me is too slow/Baby, in this city I've been feeling so alone/Lately I've been thinking 'bout leaving Chicago”. That’s something I actually felt and ended up doing. It didn't stick, but you learn from those experiences. Nothing drove this home more than one of the album's best tracks,  “A Touch of Hell”. It’s about going back home after a long time, noticing all the changes and trying to take stock of what that means in the context of your present life: “Can't believe everything I did since the last time I was here,” she sings. “I took a train ride out to Elgin/Yeah, I took a train ride out to Elgin.” Just like that, there I am again. It’s the middle of the first decade of the 00’s, I’m on the Metra coming home from college, looking out the window as the landscape zooms by, still trying to figure out who I was going to be. ***Big Timber is the final station on this train. Everyone is expected to exit*** As I walked to the parking lot under the halo of the lamppost, I'd wonder blankly what the next day would bring. Now it’s a little more certain, but this album is a great reminder of the journey it took to get there.

5. Zulu - A New Tomorrow

Zulu’s blend of hardcore is wildly intense, running the gamut of hardcore, metal, disparate samples, spoken word interludes and powerviolence. I guess the fact that their Instagram handle is @blackpowerviolence is apt. It's a stunning document that really can't be quantified in a way to write down other than to sit and listen to it.  For a band from Los Angeles, it’s weird it makes me think of Birmingham, England. That’s where I first heard of the record from my friends who lived there, as we watched videos in their apartment of the band playing a festival in the states the year prior. I’ll always think of that weekend on the other side of the world, exploring a place I’d never been, being dazzled by those sights and sounds but still feeling like my ears just discovered something revelatory from back at home.

6. The Gaslight Anthem - History Books

One of the most unlikely comebacks in recent years, History Books is a rebirth for a band that was so easy to pigeonhole and poke fun at for making what felt like the same record over and over. Of course, that never really was the case, but it was easy to say they were writing "Songs About Maria" and "More Songs About Maria". The band entered a hiatus in 2014 and only emerged once in 2018 for a short 10th anniversary tour behind The '59 Sound.

Nine years later, they returned with what's their strongest and most consistent record ever. It's a record they never could have made without the downtime and distance - it's the work of a veteran band who have found new life. While their earlier material might crackle and pop, what is in place here is a little more evenly paced and measured. The sonics are deliberately murky. Brian Fallon's workman approach to songwriting has paid off. It's a record designed for repeat listens and worth your time and effort to discover.

7. Wilco - Cousin

I was of the belief that Wilco might have already made all of the music I’d ever need to hear from them and every record since that was just a simple pleasure that I’d eventually put back down. With Cousin, I’m happy to report that I’m wrong. With Cate Le Bon behind the boards, the band is officially out of their comfort zone here making noisy, cooked/burnt out jams that don’t really sound a whole lot like anything they’ve done before. A common complaint from fans these days is that Jeff Tweedy doesn’t emote in the same ways he might have on previous records, but that's really in part to his evolution as a songwriter. It’s a record of nuance and small moments and works perfectly here. “Infinite Surprise” bubbles to the surface before swelling into feedback. “Pittsburgh” hits you with slabs of synth stabs. There’s dozens of tiny moments that build up into a very satisfying whole. It’s not a record to be slept on.

8. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - Weathervanes

With 20+ years in to a career and a decade since his breakthrough record, Jason Isbell really doesn’t have much left to prove. It’s been a career year for him - a significant part in Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon and a retrospective box set of Southeastern, it’s actually easy to forget that this all kicked off with one of the best albums of his career, Weathervanes. Isbell self produced the album after working with Dave Cobb on nearly all of his records in the past decade, and the switch seems to have done him well.

Both he and the 400 Unit sound more relaxed and have a willingness to mine and stretch the material a little more than they have on their previous releases. “King of Oklahoma” ranks among one of his best songs ever “When We Were Close” is a fitting and stunning tribute to Justin Townes Earle”, but the one-two punch of “This Ain’t It” and “Miles” show the brawn and technical prowess of the band’s showstopping live act, finally committed to tape.

9. The Hold Steady - The Price of Progress

The Hold Steady have long been untethered from the expectations brought upon by their first four records, and with The Price of Progress, that point has only become clearer. It’s easily the band’s darkest record and a sonic spiritual successor to 2021’s Open Door Policy. There’s the sweeping vistas of “Grand Junction”, the Lebron James namedropping in “Sixers” and The Birdwatchers with this visual: “Cause the rockets sound like ravens/when they're skipping off the pavement/And if you ever hear the church bells then get down on the ground”. Twenty years in their career, it’s great to see them pushing.

10. The National - Laugh Track

The National releasing an album always feels a bit like an event - and with Aaron Dessner’s foray into the Swiftiverse has amped that up a bit. First Two Pages of Frankenstein arrived in April and was perfectly fine, but the surprise release of Laugh Track in September felt a little more exciting, and for good reason: it’s the far better record of the two they’ve released this year. The National have had a tendency in the past decade to sound a little too in their heads when it comes to their recorded material, that’s why they’re such a crucial live act, where the songs transform into a form that can sometimes seem staggeringly unrecognizable.

On Laugh Track, that nervous tension has seemed to ease. The sounds are a little weirder - “Space Invader” and the soundcheck-recorded “Smoke Detector” feel freer than anything they’ve released since maybe even Alligator. The previously released “Weird Goodbyes” with Bon Iver is a sweet treat near the top of side A. Laugh Track is snapshot of a band trying a bunch of different things at once and leaves a whole lot to discover.

11. Be Your Own Pet - Mommy

12. Jeff Rosenstock - HELLMODE

13. Sufjan Stevens - Javelin

14. Olivia Rodrigo - GUTS

15. Foo Fighters - But Here We Are

16. Hiss Golden Messenger - Jump For Joy

17. Young Fathers - Heavy Heavy

18. Peter Gabriel - I/o

19. Marnie Stern - The Comeback Kid

20. Empty Country - Empty Country II

My favorite records of 2022 below, with a playlist at the end.

1. Gang of Youths - Angel in Realtime

In March, I flew to London by myself. It was my first time on an airplane since March 2020. We made it home literal days before the US started restricting travel because of the quickly emerging COVID pandemic. Less than three months later, I became a father three months earlier than expected.

My entire world changed twice in a very rapid amount of time. During his time in the NICU, I listened a lot to Gang of Youths “The Heart is a Muscle” as an anthem of sorts - (the heart/the heart/the heart/is a muscle/and I’m gonna make it strong!”) seemed appropriate for a premature baby.

Although I was overjoyed at the birth of my son and his very speedy recovery and continual good health, I became overwhelmed with the trauma of the situation for over a year. It was complicated by an ever changing COVID situation and having an immunocompromised baby. I felt like I didn’t know where I fit anymore in the world and none the vestiges of my life prior felt like they fit me anymore. I needed to try to break the spell. By springtime, with our son almost two, my wife and I decided we should try to venture out with our trip to London. I’d go first, with Ali joining me the next day.

Flying London to see friends I had not seen in two years, being anywhere within a short distance for the first time without my son weighed on me heavily. On my flight over, I became enamored with their newly released Angel in Realtime. There was something exquisitely hopeful, heartbreaking, elegiac and rousing about it in one shot. It’s David Le’aupepe’s examination of the life of his father, one where he explores some pretty staggering revelations about his life, all filtered through the lens of him passing. The record is sweeping, messy, broad and beautiful - huge guitars, heavenly vocals from the Auckland Gospel Choir and a piano ballad titled “Brothers” that will make your jaw drop.

At the end of the record comes the one-two punch of “Hand of God” and “Goal of Century”, a hymn coupled with an astonishing, rousing finale, with truly heroic strings and a beautiful piano outdo. The breadth of it gives me immense peace. I listen to both songs any time a plane I’m on is landing. The first time I did that was that trip.

When I got to London, I met with my friend Mozy - Gang of Youths was actually playing an in-store at Rough Trade the day I landed. We stood at the back of the store as the band played, and I felt my voice catch in the back of my throat. It was the first time I’d heard live music in 723 days. So much had changed, but everything I remembered about how sound moved me came rushing back. Songs like “You in Everything” and “In The Wake of Your Leave” communicated the feeling of what it’s like to love someone so much but get that sinking feeling of it slipping through your fingers. That happened to David, I  am unbelievably grateful it did not happen to me.

After the set I was pretty emotional, but invigorated. The band was doing a meet and greet. I went up to the members and quickly told them the story about my son and how early he was and how important one of their songs was. David gave me a gigantic hug and looked me in the eyes and said “You’re a good dad, man.”  I’ll never forget it for the rest of my days.

Angel in Realtime is the only choice for my favorite record of this year. It reconnected me to sound, to soul, and gave voice to my feelings when I thought mine was lost.

2. Big Thief - Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You

Many great records came out this year, but none were more adventurous than the double album Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You by Big Thief. The 20-track collection feels like a little bit of everything from a group that sounds less like a group of four musicians in a room, than a singular organism shifting in sequence with each other. The songs here are kaleidoscopic in their sound - quiet acoustic ballads, celestial folk, bubbling rock squalls, and of course, a song about a potato. There’s a sense of wonder and playfulness found on this record that doesn’t exist on previous Big Thief LP’s. In turn, it makes it some of their most approachable, exhilarating and inviting work - the sound of one body and one circulatory system working to keep the blood pumping.

3.  MJ Lenderman - Boat Songs

It shouldn’t sound so easy to write songs like this. Boat Songs is twangy garage rock that comes off as effortless - take “Hangover Game” where Lenderman speculates that Michael Jordan’s legendary “Flu Game” was not caused from illness or food poisoning but, well, you get it. There’s also songs about buying boats (of course), pro wrestling and Dan Marino. It glides by you so quickly and then you just want to replay it again. It’s so hooky, honest and at times, hilarious that you just keep replaying it, always wanting more, exposing that hidden detail in the fuzz that you missed the last time around.

4. Alvvays - Blue Rev

The first album from the Toronto-based group in five years is a straight-up masterpiece, a perfect amalgamation of power-pop fuzed with shoegaze guitars and singer/guitarist Molly Rankin’s hazy vocals.

Blue Rev somehow manages to feel both huge and intimate in tandem - this is a record to be played both loud on a car stereo with the windows down, or on a cold winter day snuggled up with headphones. It’s an environment within its 39 minute runtime - sometimes stormy, other times sunny or in its most quiet moments, completely serene. No matter the weather, it glistens.

5. Black Country, New Road - Ants From Up There

This peculiar sophomore release from the Cambridgeshire, UK group starts with a deluge of horns before breaking into a series of songs that can only be described as epics in minutes. Much of the record’s release cycle made buzz came on the heels of the departure of frontperson Issac Wood, and if it’s the final chapter in this era of the band, then what an exhilarating way to go out. It’s an indie-rock record that subverts every expectation, and takes such severe left turns that every song feels like a mystery box waiting to be opened. They’re so in the groove here, that even without their co-founder, they’ll be more than capable of creating more music that truly sounds like nothing else before it.

6. Craig Finn - A Legacy of Rentals

Craig Finn’s continual evolution as a storyteller is never more evident here. On ALOR, he and major collaborator Josh Kaufman paint with a new sonic palette than their previous three collaborations. The results will stop you in your tracks.

7. Harry Styles - Harry’s House

Our family is one of divergent music tastes, but Harry’s House is one roof we all live under comfortably. Also, seeing him live in September was one of the year’s live music highlights Ali and I listened to this record on so many car rides this summer, as Remy requested “Harry” from the backseat. Whether it was our British friend or the puppet he likes from YouTube, we’ll never know - although he never complained when “As It Was” started to play.

8. Spielbergs - Vestli

Spielbergs are the best band that you might not have heard of. It’s pretty simple: They’re from Norway. They make 3-4 minute punk songs that feel like mini movies - ripping solos, whoa-oh vocals and choruses that will stick to you like jolly ranchers embedding themselves to the top of your teeth. The trio imbues these songs with such verve and high energy that when the band takes a breather with passages of cool synths or piano and strings before shifting back into exhilarating anthems, you can’t help but feel like they’re moving toward a level of world building we’ve yet to see in  punk.

9. Goose - Dripfield

Goose are quickly becoming the standard bearer in this age of jam bands, and their recent tour with Trey Anastasio and sold out shows across the country are perfect evidence of this. Besides their obvious chops, the band has been known to cover a vast number of influences (think The National, OutKast and Nina Simone) but on Dripfield, it’s a surprisingly tight, tuneful and slick collection of songs that acts as a great entry point for a band that’s certainly more known for their live shows. It’s a collection of songs featuring excellent musicianship that is impressive but not egregious, a record that makes a statement but feels easy, breezy and ultimately joyful.

10. Gladie - Don’t Know What You’re In Until You’re Out

Gladie’s sophomore LP starts out with about a minute of acoustic guitar that bleeds into hazy feedback before crashing into one of the year’s best, greatest songs, “Born Yesterday”.  Frontperson Augusta Koch states: “It takes me me more time/I’m a little unsteady/I was born yesterday/I forgot I could be somebody”. Words from someone trying to find their place with clear eyes.

A few lines later: “Now the floodgates are open/The way I feel could fill the ocean.” She repeats it four times. I know that feeling. Then: “…when the wave comes crashing in, it said I'm not a fixed thing/I'm changeable”.

It’s an anthem for anyone who has felt unmoored, who has lost their sense of self, unsure of their identity or how to navigate a new world. Maybe that’s in more ways than one. Don’t Know What You’re In Until You’re Out is full of songs with this level of relatable intensity. It’s hard to capture that feeling so perfectly, but they’ve done it.

11. Hurray For the Riff Raff - Life on Earth

12. The Beths - Expert in a Dying Field

13. Soul Glo - Diaspora Problems

14. Wednesday - Mowing the Leaves Instead of Piling ‘Em Up

15. Caroline - Caroline

16. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Cool It Down

17. Wet Leg- Wet Leg

18. Taylor Swift - Midnights

19. Titus Andronicus - The Will To Live

20. The 1975 - Being Funny In A Foreign Language