I always felt that Zaba was the first record in its post-rock style to challenge Alt-J’s dominance in this ill-defined genre. On How to be a Human Being, Glass Animals surpass Alt-J to become, in my mind, one of the most inventive post-rock, alt-electronic groups out there.

How to Be a Human Being begs the question: How does one classify music like this? The pop structures, rock energy, and electronic sounds create a bizarre — but appealing — mix that seems eminently malleable and mineable for a new generation of musicians. How to Be a Human Being is a record of constant imagination.

Even people who don’t like Glass Animals couldn’t accuse them of being unoriginal. Every track on the record sounds different — compare “Pork Soda” to “Take a Slice”, for example. The band rarely, if ever, repeats themselves.

How to Be a Human Being has hints of everything from Justin Timberlake (“Season 2 Episode 3”) to blues rock (“Poplar St.”). It’s one of the most diverse records of the year. It’s a record that’s a result of touring, and all the new life experience that entails.

But at the same time as the band is rapidly — and aggressively — expanding their sound, they’re also doing something unexpected. How to Be a Human Being strips back the production slightly, dressing down the tracks compared to Zaba.

It’s a subtle effect, but it works nonetheless: despite Glass Animals’ continued experimentation, it never feels like they’re anything less than approachable.

To be clear: the production doesn’t sound bad, not even remotely. It’s still a well-made, well-executed record. But the production allows Glass Animals to make experimental, unusual music without ever sacrificing its listen-ability.

All that being said, it’s hard to discuss How to Be a Human Being right now. It’s the musical equivalent of The Empire Strikes Back: a sequel whose language is so different from what came before that it will take time to judge and understand it properly. I imagine we won’t fully understand the magnitude of this record until we can judge it within the full spectrum of Glass Animals’ complete discography.

That’s a good thing. The Empire Strikes Back was panned when it was released, but now many regard it as one of the best films ever made. Clearly, How to Be a Human Being is a tremendous record. It has the all the feelings of a masterpiece. But I don’t know if it’s a masterpiece yet. It’s too early to call it. (If it’s not a masterpiece, then it’s certainly evidence that Glass Animals is capable of making one.)

For the time being, How to Be a Human Being is an impeccable record. It demands your attention, and your repeated listening. And I can’t wait to talk about it a decade from now.

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These guys sound like Noah Gunderson if Gunderson decided to find a larger group he could rock with. Or if Gunderson decided to lead a Mumford & Sons sound-alike. But honestly, instead of listening to the horrible new Mumford record, you should just put this on instead for a similar vibe.

Bear’s Den has an incredible hint of soul and a depth to the group that sounds both like despair and Sunday morning worship. Almost every song is beautiful. Check out Isaac though. That’s a wicked tune. And I think the whole album sounds like that.

Bear’s Den are on track to become a hugely successful band if you ask me. (I honestly think they’d already be super popular if they had a better, less passive name.) Listen to this record as soon as you can.

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The title of this record is significant: it’s not St. Vincent’s debut, so why would she give it her own name? Self-titling a record usually suggests that it should define what an artist is about. This isn’t an accident: St. Vincent is the very definition of what Annie Clark wants to be as an artist.

Rattlesnake shows her off, but Birth In Reverse is really the best intro to this record — and maybe a great intro to her discography. Huey Newton is a perfect example of the way her music can go from contemplative and even happy to dizzyingly heavy and fuzzy in but moments. Bring Me Your Loves is like a weird Lady Gaga side project. In similar veins, Digital Witness and Regret are pretty much perfect, but you could argue that St. Vincent is at her absolute heart-wrenching best when she slows down for songs like I Prefer Your Love.

And in each of these songs, St. Vincent is throwing weird sounds at the listener, and she’s so talented that it’s hard to tell if she’s using a synth or a guitar to accomplish the noise. It’s a guitar god record from a performer at her peak, but it’s also a master lesson in songwriting. St. Vincent is unpredictable, powerful, and completely disarming.

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