All at once, human voices are buried under textured explosions of fine-grit synth tones laying down a blanket of pumice and smoke that almost completely suffocates the screaming of those who could not escape.

Born out of a solemn art installation at an abandoned panopticon prison, the new album Panoptikon by Maria W Horn emphasizes the crushing mental consequences of living in such an environment.

Deeply vulnerable lyrics cut right to the heart alongside swimming synths and dark guitars, delivering powerful baroque art pop along the lines of Kate Bush, Florence Wlech, Cocteau Twins, and early MUNA.

From IDM to EDM to straight-up rap verses, They Hate Change explores a wide variety of channels through which to direct their energy, a variety which comes home to roost within a solidly unified aesthetic that makes this album both unforgettable and endlessly replayable.

Repackaging a classical sensibility in the form of a sound so individual as to be nearly impossible to describe, The Germans explore an extremely specific spiritual journey that simultaneously feels relatable, constantly getting lost in the weeds in ways that feel all too familiar.

Stretching dungeon synth to its limits, traditional middle eastern melodies emanate from simple synths placed in cavernous acoustic environments, mingling with noise elements that emulate the anguished screams of onlookers.

Crushing their poppy, chiptune-adjacent hip hop under the weight of digital compression, Hooky’s new record Mirage takes a refreshingly varied look at the lo-fi sound that has so thoroughly saturated the internet.

With no familiar riffs and no identifiable key signatures, there is no map for this sonic territory. The listener must join in on the direct experience with the artist, as together we participate in and explore the unfolding of a wholly new sonic landscape.

McKenna has always been a little more eclectic with his production than others in this niche, and this project is no exception with funkier beats and a slightly more experimental approach than you may expect.

Those who cling tightly to their preferred “death metal” or “black metal” genre boxes end up glossing over excellent releases like the debut album from Micturator, God in the Machine.

As the album sharply enters the second half, an indescribable succession of tape loops and other low, unorganized digital noise underpin an even more abstract set of tortured vocalizations, pushing past the limits of pain that typically appear in this already anguished genre.

With our mind’s eye, we envision brilliant cathedrals with rear balconies flanked by towering pipes, erupting in pious fanfare to a congregation stunned into resignation and worship.

Developing this idea through glitchy, noisy electronica, Pyur’s new record Lucid Anarchy releases its sonic energy in fits and spurts, giving us the sensation that something inside the music desperately yearns for freedom.

Folklike percussion and overall song structure give the project a distinct voice and a sense of trajectory, while choral-inspired harmonies layer over attention grabbing guitars and synth drones.

The noise falls away when Geraldi escapes the city limits, the countrysides’ twangy pedal steel playing smooth and clear through the airwaves. But the road trip is inherently transient. The signal is lost.

Abstractly tracing the arc of abuse, this record begins with these hauntingly warm tones, sounds that hold you in a loving embrace even as you know that that embrace will imprison and stifle your soul later on.

Incorporating tendencies like swirling repetition and biting jazz chords within country music creates an unusual and unforgettable sound, inviting bands of the future to elaborate upon the ideas demonstrated here.

Seeing outer Chicagoland through the city’s eyes and vice versa, this album pulls us away from rural folk themes into an environment that we are significantly more likely to have firsthand experience living in.

We really thought that we’d be safe putting out our top 50 albums list a week ago, but 2023 had one last ace up its sleeve in the form of this masterpiece for the slacker generation.

When Solska rails against people in their community who have caused harm to themselves or their loved ones, their unapologetically bloodthirsty tone forces us to analyze our own most strained relationships, uncovering the most grotesquely spiteful portions of ourselves and forcing us to decide whether these enemies deserve such vitriol.