With an astute sense of mischief and a knack for snazzy hooks, Best Friends’ debut full-length offering is as endearing as they come.

Teen Suicide’s final act is nigh-on impossible to categorise or fully digest, and its nature and length makes it at the same time a difficult listen, but one that brings rewards of all different kinds across its running length.

Both what you’d want and expect from a Chemical Brothers album, as well as a whole lot more on top, it pushes the duo firmly back to relevance.

There’s still plenty to recommend here, but you can’t help but feel that Neon Indian have a top-drawer electro pop record in them, if only they can trim the fat accordingly.

It’s a crossover record rich with cultural touchstones.

He sounds soft, restrained and beautiful.

Musically the album sees Eno experimenting with three-dimensional recording techniques, creating a sound that’s frequently panoramic and dislocating.

Ten years in, it’s unmistakably King Krule, yet somehow even broader, denser, and crucially more enticing than what has come before.

While Japandroids have always walked a tightrope between classic rock and straight-up punk, Near To The Wild Heart Of Life finds their footing wobbling for the first time.

Everything across Lux Prima feels completely right; familiar yet new, revealing more of two beloved figures without losing what made them great all these years.

While unpredictability is certainly part of Deerhoof’s charm, and the aim of The Magic was to take listeners out of their comfort zone, the erratics can feel contrived and its off-kilter aesthetics too disparate for it to ever really take hold.

Infectious, exciting and even a little hedonistic during some of the most confusing of modern times, now’s never been a better time to get lost in this new destination.

Westerman may be less accessible than either artist, but his latest is just as notable in its ambition. ‘An Inbuilt Fault’ is an acquired taste, but well worth the effort.

It’s a statement packed with masses of future potential, and that’s all you can really ask for from a debut record.

An album that exudes charm and euphoria, while still very much being Fall Out Boy’s DNA, ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ is a real joy.

No doubt some old fans will continue to decry this latest chapter in Rolo Tomassi’s seemingly endless search to scratch their inner itch, but make no mistake; this is a confident return to form.

Relatability abounds on Blisters In The Pit Of My Heart, perhaps not least on retail romance tale ‘Precarious (The Supermarket Song)’ where “I’m like an unexpected item in your bagging area” emerges as a contender for lyric of the year.

While the styles vary - opener ‘I’ve Been Starting To Love All The Things I Hate’ is emo-pop in its delivery, while closer ‘Whistle’ is lackadaisical - that Aluna’s singular vision is never in doubt.

A beautiful and moving chart of a year in his life, Dan’s latest ‘Grand Plan’ has clearly paid off.

There aren’t any standalone tracks, with the arguable exception of ‘Pop Song’. In that sense this is an album in its truest form, a record to sit with and take in as one whole.

‘Sorry I Haven’t Called’ is yet another accomplished chapter.

To deem ‘Forever Ends Someday’ a grower might be a little disingenuous, as if there’s nothing to grab onto on first listen. But be sure, once immersed in its many hooks, they’ll be difficult to shake off.

This isn’t the best or the bravest music of her career, but Harvey continues to pave new ground. This time, she takes that responsibility very literally, exploring new places and inviting listeners into her strange universe.

The Sea & Cake could have been in danger of becoming an indie-band-by-numbers, but 'Runner' is performed with all the vigour and aplomb of fresh-faced youngsters and executed with the deftness of touch of grizzled old hands.

It touches the heart and head with its examinations of love, lust and desire, and while it’s sometimes still a challenging listen, it’s easy to indulge in.

Four full-lengths in, this is the most comprehensive full-length Joyce Manor have ever released.

It’s not a record that jumps out on the first listen, but The Unseen In Between works as an effective relaxant.

A considered evolution from first minute to last, with no real enforced show in between, it may not be immediately obvious but by the end one truth remains clearer than ever, across a whole album--Mogwai can really do scale.

His sixth LP employs a rich palate in its production seamlessly blending trap beats with soul samples and orchestral flourishes.

And while, perhaps, this more reflective musing on American life wasn’t quite what we’d come to expect from The Killers, ‘Pressure Machine’ does prove that not all escapism arrives with a hook-laden chorus. This is an album which invites you to dig a little deeper.

For every radio-ready chorus, there’s a fascinating tangent, and plenty of pointers towards Marmozets being the most important rock band we have.

The band have expanded their sound with mixed results.

‘i’ve seen a way’ sees the band marching down their own path, and it’s one worth following.

‘I quit’ doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel and most of, if not all, the HAIM staples are here: biting satire, tongue-in-cheek takedowns, and Southern-style guitars over a Los Angeles sunshine haze. But in parting with longtime producer and Danielle Haim’s former partner Ariel Rechtshaid (another addition to the list of many things that have been ‘quit’), the sisters have opened up new doors.

The Brooklyn four-piece have produced something truly special. This is a real statement of a record, one that sees them forge ever further skyward in their pursuit of monolithic shoegaze (‘Brown Paper Bag’, ‘Somber the Drums’) while also exploring softer territory on tracks so thick with atmosphere that their queasy melodies gnaw at the marrow of your bones.

M uch of ‘Stray’ could do with heeding its own advice; instead Bambara stay firmly on a strong but fairly predictable path.

Cut with the wonky, off-kilter darkness of standout tracks such as ‘Polaris’ and siren-like synth whirrs of the title track too, the new record slots neatly into the expansive Dewaele puzzle; a vibrantly textured, shapeshifting, and inquisitively diverse return.

It’s comfortable, casual and--as is Iggy--a little bit weird at times. It’s catchy and has some great stories nestling in there--Post Pop Depression gets its hooks into you gradually with each listen.

Cleo Tucker and Harmony Tividad have already proven themselves as songwriters with a great deal of potential, and their debut record properly only confirms that they’re only just getting started.

If ‘Football Money’ was a full-hearted paean to the likes of Pavement and Archers of Loaf, then ‘Cooler Returns’ is the sound of Kiwi Jr moving forwards, planting their own flag in the power-pop ground.

Now, we see a new-found confidence as they step out their comfort zone for a deeply personal album.

It’s a record that leaves the kind of impression more associated with acts with far lengthier histories; second records are usually places where acts attempt to showcase their breadth, to be seen to expand on or rebel against their past selves, not double-down with quite this much confidence and depth.

There's a gulf between even At The Drive-In and how extreme Dillinger can be, but on One Of Us Is The Killer, they've finally written a record that bridges that gap while staying true to themselves.

Although less esoteric than its predecessor ‘Cavalcade’, ‘Hellfire’ is a fiercely experimental record that sees black midi teeter back and forth on a crumbling precipice, halfway between unhinged madness and art rock precision.

With Schmilco, Wilco are getting funnier, more surprising and more interesting, two decades after forming.

A record that plays like an unwieldy and unravelling ode to all the twists and turns of Brockhampton’s journey.

Walking Like We Do is expansive lyrically, thematically and sonically, touching on social inequality and frustration with the current political and societal climate.

This album is a little less concept-narrative driven than previous releases, but not to any ill-effect. Instead, Clipping have reached both their most distilled output - this is a once-in-a-generation band reaching their peak.

Their newest full-length isn’t by any means leaps and bounds from what they’ve done before, but when they’ve got their brand of metallic pop so well-honed, why would we hope for anything else?

There’s a sense of the trio reaching for a comfort blanket, turning back towards the intellectual pop that inspired them as youngsters in the ‘80s.

His shifts in sound are as delicate as his music, continuing to showcase his ability to blur styles with unparalleled precision.

‘See You At The Maypole’ is a challenging listen not through sound or even particularly subject matter, but in not reaching its end under a similarly black cloud as the record itself.

Inji is the sound of Dust discovering his own identity. And to achieve this, he tries just about anything and everything that crosses his path.

‘As Above, So Below’ feels more refined. It’s fair to say there’s no one else quite doing it like Sampa The Great right now.

At times it’s a strange record. The rough tones don’t register as forcefully as the hooks on previous works. That said, it’s a rewarding listen, one that eventually embeds itself once given full attention.

An album that works to intertwine large scale issues with some deeply personal admissions from frontwoman Sadie Dupuis - all via her intoxicating and bewildering brand of lyricism - the record, instead, grapples with the anger at its core and transforms. it into something more worthwhile.

‘The Gloss’ might not hold a candle to the Television-esque majesty of ‘Sun Coming Down’ - an era firmly in their rearview mirror - but it shows that, together, Darcy’s wit, Stidworthy’s precision, and Cartwright’s skeletal rhythms create something special. It’s not quite a reinvention, but they’re still seeking new horizons.

The more you listen, the more you start to learn this is not an album of ‘Eleanor Rigby’s; it’s an album of ‘A Day in the Life’s.

Overall, and perhaps importantly, it mostly sounds like something to sing along to, rather than the soundtrack to your next existential crisis.

Her tenth studio album might be written about Cat Power’s own journey, but it also doubles as an essential compass for finding your way through the dark.

Sorry have somehow managed to mould something immediate and accessible but undeniably in their own image. It’s a truly special debut, one that makes strange magic at every turn.

This is a thirty-five minute blast of garage rock of the highest calibre. Consider all boxes ticked: carefree, angry, passionate, loud, relentless, and fun.

Howlin' works impeccably as a whole. Equally uplifting and calming, it's the dancefloor via the beach.

An album that finds the prodigious artist enjoying himself yet again.

It may not be a career defining record but The Something Rain is crammed full of twists and turns to create an emotionally rich and thoroughly rewarding listen.

Be Strong may not offer any invention or progression but as a collection of exuberant, joyful and uplifting dance music it is certainly the perfect record to light up those dark winter nights and look forward to the summer.

The free jazz of the title track grates and some of the record falls a little bit into the background and seems almost too polite at times but Mars is a sophisticated and beguiling album full of wonder.

This is the work of two guys simply expressing their love of music for the rest of us to enjoy--swooping from ‘60s pop to ‘00s rock while appreciating everything in between--and what a loveable collection of work it is.

Snarling, quick-witted one-liners are Girlpool’s absolute forte, along with a minimal, as-the-crow-flies approach to writing that wastes no time hitting on each vital melody.

Nothing on this record is secure, but its transitions are hauntingly beautiful. It will not be for those who crave immediacy. Some tracks are far from an easy listen, but it was never meant to be.

Good Luck and Do Your Best is so far out there but at the same time feels right at home; making it one of Panda’s most thrilling pieces to date.

The result is a sharpening of Speedy Ortiz’s axe to grind. Succinct, wry, and in tune with its context, there’s plenty to unpick, here.

Last Building Burning is Cloud Nothings embracing a harsher component to their sound--almost recalling the likes of recent Oh Sees releases--which has grown into something unsettled, bold and reckless.

There isn’t much range across the record; the last few tracks merge into one. Which is disappointing given Peter’s track record for one, but overall there are plenty of highs and the downsides should be sorted by the next installment.

Tackling interesting ideas and putting rock through an avant garde filter, Mattiel Brown’s powerful vocals once again impress too on what ultimately feels like a significant step forward.

Beneath the familiarity, Tame’s fourth is operating in a subtly different world. Where ‘Currents’ doffed its cap heavily to R&B within its pop smarts, creating his most commercial work yet, ‘The Slow Rush’’s ingredients feel slightly more disparate.

The leap has definitely paid off - her inimitable voice thrives in the woozy dancehall and afrobeat-inspired ‘First’ and the big pop confidence of ‘Womxn’, but also knows when to take a step back, peppering the record with spoken word segments and heartfelt mantras that tie the whole thing together.

As something cooked up on short notice, it’s a glorious postcard from an unprecedented global moment, and a wonderful teaser for what is to come.

It should come as little surprise that Lydia has spent time on the standup circuit, and it’s this ability to send up any notions of seriousness that’s Gustaf’s greatest trick. Add some suitable spiky, metronomic riffs and ‘Audio Drag…’ is anything but.

The maximalist production on show is boundless, and in turn, is a celebration of daine’s spiritual transformation.

Homely and familiar in its sound for the most part, ‘My Mind Wanders…’ is a smooth ride of buttery emotional grandiosity and infectious London pop that sits somewhere between Paloma, Adele and Jess Glynne, with enough attitude and bravery to modernise these prevailing and reliable British tropes within soul-pop.

An album that does absolute justice to her status as a new, genre-defying voice in rock. From the drum and bass drive of ‘Sex Metal’, through to the more bubblegum pop of ‘Sugar Rush’, via the reflective epic of ‘Over It’, these fourteen tracks swerve through different iterations of the genre with confidence and ease.

It’s in the less expected that ‘Lagos Paris London’ offers most; the sheer softness of ‘Under The Strikes’ displays a vocal turn that in other contexts may prove completely unrecognisable; and in particular the introspective, sparse yet groove-laden ‘Night Green, Heavy Love’, on which a staccato bassline contrasts with Yannis’ high-pitched vocal to create a wholly disorienting mood.

‘Felt Better Alive’ isn’t going for high art, he’s not looking to create another masterpiece, as evident in the nursery rhyme stomp of ‘Out of Tune Balloon’ and ‘Fingee’, a song that can be best described as Chas n Dave-meets-Lankum that barely lasts two minutes. But this is the sound of one of rock’s most enduring survivors exhaling and having fun, which is ultimately all that matters.

With ‘Worldwide’, Snõõper continue to capture their bizarro universe, at the core of which is the same erratic intensity that many fell in love with two years ago.


It’s really mature songwriting, and makes for a lovely, reflective listen.

There is no reinvention of the wheel here from Tigers Jaw, but when they do heart-on-sleeve emo this convincingly, that doesn’t matter.

‘Miss Anthropocene’ is undoubtedly the singer’s darkest album yet, the result perhaps of a rollercoaster half-decade or maybe just of an artist who’s never really given two fucks about playing the radio-friendly commercial game.

Tip of the Sphere is Cass McCombs’ most elegiac and profoundly literary album, a eulogy for the end of times and a mass articulation of the absurd world of modernity.

This is handsome, but not essential.

Iit goes deeper and sees our protagonist at his most mellow and introspective.

Lanterns on the Lake are making rock music that, in terms of how vital it feels in 2015, is virtually without equal. Beings just about confirms that.

Big Grrrl Small World is an intentionally intense listen – Lizzo’s physical presence (a black woman,“statuesque and big as hell”) is placed meticulously front and centre.

Here joins the rest of the group’s catalogue in being consistently enjoyable, yet on this occasion not without flaw.

A little change of pace and a tad more sonic variety admittedly wouldn’t have gone amiss, but nevertheless, ‘…Frankenstein’ is a solid addition to The National’s canon.

It paints a picture of a leading songwriter with even more to come, one that can piece together exceptional art from personal turbulence and insecurity, effortlessly reaffirming her position at the top of UK pop… if we can even call it that.

‘Deep States’ provides, perhaps unsurprisingly, a difficult listen at times, weighed down as it is by its overwhelming lyrical bluster. Penultimate track ‘Legal Ghosts’ is however an unexpected moment of melodic tenderness - this elusive tale of loss revealing a soft underbelly beneath this otherwise bristly, tough-skinned offering.

Sophisticated yet uncomplicated, misty yet vibrant, luxurious yet disquieting, 'Melody's Echo Chamber' is a lovely record full of dualities.