
Ivy Tripp Review: Waxahatchee Finds Her Way Home
A record of feeling lost in one's own life, wherein pop songs sound effortless though they are not.

Records we have scored.

A record of feeling lost in one's own life, wherein pop songs sound effortless though they are not.

A songwriter trades hollow bedroom rawness for full band arrangements, keeping memory's pain intimate and honest.

A debut album of force and fury, a record that dares to be direct rather than clever.

A gentle, unhurried record about noticing the strange in the familiar, told with deadpan wit.

A record of quiet grief and memory, nine tracks that trust restraint above excess.

A record of a band's return to its old form, loud and direct, weighed by its own ambition.

A look back at The Cure's 1981 album Faith, a dark turn toward atmosphere and melody over post-punk energy.

A live double-album of The Cure's most beloved tracks, performed with ritualistic precision across eighteen tracks.

A look back at The Cure's Seventeen Seconds, a confident gothic statement that established the band's dark, romantic sound.

A solemn record of dread and despair, wherein The Cure forego the light and dwell amid shadows and sorrow.
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