They’re untouchable in one sense, but they don’t look to be building on more than solid foundations. Threading together moments of true beauty is a nagging sense that there’s so much of this parallel universe they’ve yet to explore.

Taking learnings from her heavyweight counterparts, ‘To Love Somebody’ and ‘White Noise’ pair her bittersweet melodies with driving pop, while the beautiful ‘Blue Dream’ pulls the likes of Gracie Abrams or Taylor further into their vulnerability.

This is very much the most mature Sharon Van Etten offering to date - and perhaps the most musically accomplished, too.

As a listen, it doesn’t always completely land, but when it does it’s truly exciting. As an artist, ‘Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd’ shows Lana Del Rey pushing herself perhaps more than ever.

The record is peppered with slower solo tracks, but it’s the crunchy, full band material that really points the way forward, adding another name to the growing list of songwriters that are giving indie-rock a new, more relatable voice.

As twelve equally matched moments of varied tone but consistent brilliance, it's nothing short of exactly what was expected--the start of something even bigger.

A record that feels both raw and refined, this will shake you to the core.

A record both charming and bold, the dichotomy of upbeat indie-pop and brutally honest lyricism only adds to its appeal.

Her first record as Self Esteem allows her songwriting skills to flourish in all their flawed glory--at once assertive and vulnerable, her take on pop flirts with high-end glossy sonics but still holds roots in the slow-building atmospherics that fuelled her past work, as well as some leftfield R&B influences.

A record that perfectly shows her growth as an artist - and a collaborator - ‘Belong’ proves to be more than worth the wait.


Its refined edges, percussion heavy sounds and understated opulence find the band's sonic landscape revitalised.

A listen that encourages looking inwards and coming to the kind of realisations Welsh himself has poured into the album, a record it’s impossible not to be swept up by.

If kept short and sweet, Temple would have made a charmingly laconic record that blossomed in unconventionality, yet sadly here is muddled in his expansive means.

While All My DemonS is a listen that’s at times varied, interesting and progressive, any connections made here are purely at surface level.

Assume Form keeps that same desire [as The Colour In Anything] to break new ground, while taking it to the red line and managing to not outstay its welcome.

Fresh Blood is the kind of album that harks back to music’s glorious history but does so in a way that remains fresh and compelling. It’s an album of revelatory qualities.

‘Growing Up’ they easily cement themselves as far more than a viral moment, pairing political and social charge with a suitably playful charm. Opener ‘Oh!’ delivers a powerhouse homage to the band’s foremothers, highlighting ‘Growing Up’’s clever balance between frivolity, passion and skill.

Overall, it’s a testament to the world-class songwriting of The Lemon Twigs that at no point does the record fall into the realms of ‘too much’. For most, it would be hard to strike that balance, but The Lemon Twigs absolutely master the art of crooning sugary pop-rock in the best of ways.

It's the perfect embodiment of their character delivered at an often frantically infectious pace.

Performance doesn’t necessarily take White Denim in a drastically different direction, but it captures so many of the different sides of the band’s multi-faceted sound that it feels expansive and wholesome.

There’s no upturning of the band’s musical blueprint, but their social conscience has earned them a third act, with ‘Nature Always Wins’ a potent way to open it.

It’s not a light listen, that’s a given, and Frye’s perplexing outlook on everything is the record’s only consistency over nine tracks. But those open-minded enough to explore Frye’s dystopian world of disgust and despair will find themselves ultimately wearing a shit-eating grin by the time it’s all over.

There’s enough for fans to enjoy across ‘Lifeforms’, but it is not as lofty as it perhaps thinks itself to be.

The trifecta of tracks which deal with drummer Roo’s experiences of addiction - ‘words fell out’, ‘tcnc’, and ‘take it away’ - are each stunningly potent in markedly different ways, ultimately highlighting the significance of resilience and mutual support as a means of refashioning ourselves in a new, better image.

A decade on from the pained remoteness of For Emma, Forever Ago, i,i holds the same intimacy and urgency, elevated by years of groundbreaking experimentation.

Like a hangover, ‘Roach’ lulls around in this contemplation in the dusky corners of a rough Sunday morning, yet it remains laced with a little intoxication: experimental production hides behind its corners, making ‘Roach’ a little more interesting. And elsewhere there exists moments where sunlight cracks through the drawn curtains.

Not everything works, but far more does than you’d expect, given how gleefully the band seem to be throwing anything and everything at the wall to see what sticks.

The first half of the album is a joy. The second half is even better.

TOPS are a rare band that have an covalent bonding chemistry with one another, and the results are a bright, sparkling album that continues their legacy as some of the best revivalists around.

With The Story So Far continuing to write unapologetic good time bangers, pop punk is very much alive.

It’s ambitious and uncompromising, in both structure and content; rather than spoonfeeding, Goat Girl demand more from their listeners and provide more in tandem.

Bad Contestant is a stunning debut with two very opposing personalities.

It’s not just its hooks sunny disposition that makes Bay Dream the album it is, however. From start to finish, this is one of the finest examples of punk rock songwriting we’ve seen in 2018 so far from a band whose momentum off the back of last album ‘Peach’ should only increase in velocity off the back of this

An album which proves a bit of time off can make a huge difference, Powers sees The Futureheads fight fiercely once again.

Corridor evidently have ambitious eyes set on the grand and cinematic. The beautifully eerie closing ambient moments to ‘Goldie’, or the theatrical prettiness of ‘Milan’ convey a band of sophisticated vision, but certain reaches for the epic, such as the stodgy closer, ‘Bang’, suffer for their principals, sounding like half-baked version of Grizzly Bear. Often, it’s hard not to think that there’s something missing.

Think the organised chaos of ‘70s NYC post-punk, or even the near-drone of erstwhile Leeds rockers Eagulls. And even as snarking on social media has moved into decidedly passe territory, the chorus of ‘Connect To Consume’ does remain a stellar one.

In places, they can be a little too on-the-nose - ‘Till We Meet Again’, for instance, literally has some Lynchian ‘ethereal whooshing’ whistling away in the background for much of it, at least before a freewheeling guitar solo salvages proceedings - but ‘The Last Exit’ is largely worthy of the cultural touchpoints it so proudly nods to.

Throughout, ‘American Noir’ delivers a vibrant and fitting homage to the recently departed Jim Steinman; the eight tracks harking to his musical opus.

‘Marriage’ is the sound of Deap Vally tapping back into what makes them tick, and lays the groundwork for their most exciting era yet.

The songs are rarely improved upon, with the fidelity to ruggedness giving the songs the feel of half-finished demos, but the songwriting itself is, of course, stellar.

‘Club Shy’ is staple Shygirl, re-packaged, pre-remixed, pre-prepared for the club: a dose of thumping post-midnight trance, a playful extension of self with all the irreverence, at her creative high.

He still remains guided by the same restless and creatively unburdened spirit that has defined TV on the Radio. However, it is evident that ‘Thee Black Boltz’ is Tunde Adebimpe’s storm to weather, his vision unfiltered with a clarity that makes the collection strikingly his own.

It’s perhaps more cohesive than 2023’s shamefully underrated ‘Good Luck’.

There is not an ounce of fat on this record, nor one wasted note.

She writes and wears her heart on her sleeve, half-singing, half-sighing through her songs with wide-eyed candour, shining through such swoon-worthy dream- pop. At some point, you’ll wonder if it was Hatchie’s heartache and pain that was written about, or your own.

‘Cracker Island’ is very much a set piece that prioritises concept and narrative, resulting in one of Gorillaz’s most restrained, contemplative releases yet - one that will perhaps appeal to fans of Albarn’s solo work more than devotees of his monkeys’ more genre-hopping forays.

A decent album, then. Not a great one, but one that can still hold its own against any other indie rock album released this year. There’s life in these old veterans yet.

Elbow sound revitalised here with Garvey proving himself once more to be one of the most eloquent British songwriters around.

It just falls short of completely engulfing your interest and really exposing itself as anything completely fresh and inspiring. It’s pretty in places, but you’re left wishing that it was truly beautiful.

‘Creature of Habit’ has some great moments, but they’re moments which suggest yet-still-untapped potential.

It’s still a worthwhile successor to them, of course. It’s just not the world-beater she’s surely capable of.

Kirk's irresistible vocals lend the album all the quality it needs, and their lighter touches and some inspired choices really add depth to the monochromatic and claustrophobic formula.

Rooted in its own creation, Night Thoughts is expansive and enchanting.

Club Meds is precise, mature and brooding, and despite the tendency to layer noises and experiment--most notably on the largely forgettable ‘War Spoils’--is at its best when closer to Mangan’s folk-based home.

A curious collection of contrasts. Most notably, that between the protagonists’ own voices. ... That said, the duo know when to complement each other, too.

There’s little here that will convert Dinosaur Jr sceptics. But for those who enjoy their nostalgic licks, Give A Glimpse of What Yer Not is a pretty satisfying addition to their back-catalogue.

With short tracks, skits and interludes admittedly Yes Lawd! does feel a bit more like a mixtape than an album at times but that’s simply the NxWorries way. In a pairing with this much chemistry, they can be forgiven for getting a little carried away.

The Center Won’t Hold is by far their most stylised, radio-friendly work to date; produced by St Vincent, Annie Clark’s icy sheen and dark seduction is all over the record.

There may well be no such thing as a ten out of ten album, a level of perfection and flawlessness that is by all likelihood totally unobtainable; but it's hard to imagine anyone coming closer than these five men from New York.

Despite – and seemingly deliberately - not carrying the widespread immediacy of more recent releases, it presents James as he currently stands; at once nostalgic and forward-thinking, and firmly back behind the decks.

A fresher and more enthralling take on the genre, ‘Life Under The Gun’ manages to evoke a sense of considered familiarity - nodding to punk classics such as Fugazi, Operation Ivy, and even, at times, Green Day and blink-182 - while still feeling fundamentally rooted in the present.

As might be expected from a mix with such sheer diversity, there’s occasionally a jump or a straight cut that’s a little bit of a jarring leap in sound, even for a club mix. A few occasional seconds of tonal whiplash are a small price to pay to go on this roller-coaster ride with Daphni.

A refreshingly enjoyable album.

Having been better recognised as a key member of Wild Flag and Ex Hex in recent years, Mary Timony’s singular ability as a guitarist and songwriter had been forgotten somewhat; ‘Untame The Tiger’ serves as a stirring reminder of it.

Their boldest, most exciting switch-flip in years.

Even when entering darker territories Pottery keep things jovial, ensuring the album rattles by with spirits high. Their characters are often down-and-out losers, badly clothed with peeling skin and no money, but when they come to ‘Bobby’s Motel’ none of that matters. Here, the scuzz is celebrated, the outside world is non-existent, and there’s always space for another body.

One Breath is a beautiful, atmospheric triumph.

A vivid and vulnerable album, brimming with emotional depth, occupying its own distinct lane.

Whether trying to find solace in community while battling your deepest demons, or after an uninhibited jig to some of the catchiest indie-pop around, Martha still have your back.

Though a round-up such as this technically shines a light on a group of tracks that, at their simplest, weren’t good enough to make it onto a studio album, ‘Little Bastards’ doesn’t feel that way.

Throughout, Andrew’s eccentric lyricism leans away from the paranoia of ‘MGMT’ and ‘Little Dark Age’ and towards a search for love in the midst of darkness; quietly, he and Ben continue to plough their strange pop furrow with aplomb.

Lazaretto is perhaps the most conventionally made of White’s back catalogue. And for an artist as brilliantly unconventional as he, could prove itself more of a test than any of its predecessors. A test passed with flying colours (or at least various shades of blue).

An album of shifting, shimmering textures that is both a spaced out exploration and the perfect pop album.

As ever, Amidon mediates between the folk music of his ancestry and the popular music of his day, finding a unique modernity in his marrying of past and present.

City living might sometimes feel like a constant high-intensity assault course, but City Music and its creator make it sound like an enlightening, emboldening adventure.

It's the sound of Dirty Projectors just being themselves and fully justifying the royalty status Longstreth and Co. now enjoy.

The beefing up of Girlpool’s sound on Powerplant works marvellously in parts, but at points serves to dilute the individuality the pair presented on their debut.

Biting and abrasive in the best kind of ways, ‘Nightmare Vacation’ finds an artist stepping up into the hype that’s been surrounding her for years, and delivering on it tenfold. It will chew you up and spit you out, and you’ll love every minute of it.

Unperturbed by overkill, the anthemic choral hooks and supercharged production values deliver a thrilling spectacle, even if the band are yet to realise their inflated ambitions.

Even in the album’s earnest moments, where the band uncover substance beneath their snarky self-awareness, they still manage to slide in a razor-sharp critique or two.

‘Blue Banisters’ presents a collection of sun-kissed moments and hazy memories, free from judgement and firmly rooted in place.

It’s not an immediate album, but give a little time for the scattershot approach to sink in and moments of genius gradually reveal themselves.

Gaz’s third solo offering continues to find him moving into his next phase with real class.

Parker's vocals have taken a noticeably more prominent role, often duetting with herself rather than her husband.... Songs like 'Four Score' and 'Holy Ghost'--where Parker takes the lead--are buoyed by unashamedly gospel-inflected chorales. And it works, wonderfully.

It’s not a bad record, but it’s not quite there.

A stellar example of an artist pushing their collective boundaries while retaining full control over their artistic identity.

At times bleak and nigh on disturbing yet always thick with complexity, it's a record which takes many, many listens to get to grips with and rewards repeat listens with almost unbelievable depth.

Broadening the creative scope, Half Waif is given the space to breathe both lyrically and musically. ‘Mythopoetics’ glides from the stripped back piano and layered vocals of opener ‘Fabric’ and the intimate closer ‘Powder’ to the electronic flourishes that have elevated Nandi’s sound across four prior records.

Clocking in at 14 tracks, the Perth outfit here manage to blend evolution within their artistry, while still keeping in touch with their otherworldly roots.

A collection of the best of what has come before, ‘Draw Down The Moon’ finds coherence in its unashamed madness. It’s pulled together by Connor Murphy’s unique vocal performance, and the welcome dominance of drummer Jon Hellwig.

Witty, sexy, confident, and charged with live energy, I’m Not Your Man is the sound of Marika Hackman making the album she always needed to make.

A record that improves on their second effort, placing them in a strong position to break through even further.

Every second of ‘Wicked City’ feels meticulously thought through, the huge breadth of sonic terrain the duo cover the result of real care and attention paid at every juncture.

With this near-mystical storytelling ‘Quiet The Room’ leans heavily on folk, yet in style it embodies something entirely different. Seemingly on the edge of collapse, it tells a fraught tale of fragile memories that exist on the very brink of reality.

A little of the opening tracks’ emotional impact is lost in their sugary, pixel-perfect presentation - particularly the otherwise punchy ‘Street Fighter’ – but that aside, ‘Mirror Starts Moving Without Me’ is a rewarding listen.

Each song sounds like it has an endearing air to it. At times the lack of polish can be grating, but there are moments of delicacy and sensitivity that create a more rounded record than seems to exist on first listen.

Electronic in the loosest, most deformed sense, Psychic rips up convention from the seams to the centre.

The band balance loud and quiet better than ever on LP5, with the one-two of ‘The Maze’ and first single ‘The Gold’ that opens the record the perfect example. ‘The Alien’, meanwhile, is fiddly and intriguing, showing that A Black Mile To The Surface could transport the band to an entirely new world.