It’s punk music with the intelligence of wizened old jazz musicians, and as a chronicle of the band’s hardships, it’s a much-welcome return.

The result is a consistently textured record, with beautifully integrated strings.

This is Against Me! shifting the topic but retaining all the glory: biting lyricism, punk fury and rock prowess wrapped up in an infectious and perfectly imperfect package.

Arc sees a stripped-back, 'more accessible' band.

The opening three numbers shine, showing a refreshing sound bursting at the seams with positivity, but the lack of variety means that, by the end, you may feel slightly bludgeoned by it all.

Preternaturals is graceful and intriguing, if not vastly pulse quickening.

The immediacy of the comparably short and sharp first half (at least in track number alone) gives way to a sprawling crescendo of epics – not least the near-19 minute ‘Planet Desperation’; a track as camp as it is masterful, with more than a gentle nod to the 1960s and ‘70s.

There’s a real energy emanating from mini-album ‘Broken Hearts & Beauty Sleep’ that very much echoes the artist’s sentiment. A glorious trip through all facets of Mykki’s musical personality.

‘Half Divorced’ is a bolshy barrage played out over the course of 12 short, sharp tracks.

The trick is that, while you know that she's stretching, she never sounds anything less than completely comfortable and in total control.

It’s at times heart-stopping and at others movingly barren, but is always thoroughly arresting.

Eighth studio album ‘Endless Summer Vacation’ emerges as a clear indication of someone who’s finally figured out who they are, resulting in a bold pop record oozing with the confidence and style that results from a period of self-discovery.

At times it's so polite and elegant it almost passes you by, yet on every song you're soon gently overpowered by the sheer heart and homespun wisdom of the lyrics.

Despite being a headrush of industrial, electronic blasts, the follow up to debut ‘GOB’ packs a warm heart.

Five feels like an exercise in softness of touch, maybe the most reserved White Lies album to date; there’s less bite than usual in Harry McVeigh’s vocals, and where previously the guitars would be spiky and nudge towards post-punk, there’s languid, melodic riffs on the likes of ‘Finish Line’ and ‘Denial’.

While there could be a little more individuality on show to elevate Claud to their contemporaries’ level, ‘Super Monster’ shows promise of a burgeoning artist finding their own voice.

‘The Dream’’s strength is in packing not just alt-J’s usual futuristic twist, but a heavy side serving of nostalgia too. It’s a perfect, subtle, and unpretentious combo.

This is an emotional juggernaut--an avalanche, in fact. Just when they look to have delivered their parting blow, in steps another moment that captures life’s ups and downs with perfection.

Overall Beat the Champ will no doubt prove a hit with die-hard Mountain Goats fans, however as a standalone album it lacks a coherent sound.

She once again explores new ventures, crafting a pop album that celebrates the old classics as well as the new, and cements her status as a true pop trailblazer.

Perhaps album 20 will take them, whatever their name is then, fully back into the light. For now, ORC's darkness suits us fine.

Flickering and darting across a vast sonic plane, the album is a worthwhile expedition and an interesting re-imagining of the past propelled into the future.

Life Without Sound feels more confident, the songs themselves coming from a more positive position.

From the shifting tempos of ‘Copper Mines’ to the serene beginning and raucous math-y crescendo of closer ‘Hold Your Own Hand’ When You Walk A Long Distance And You Are Tired is never settled, and never should be.

With Alas Salvation, they’ve set a marker for every borderline-insane newcomer emerging in the next decade.

In Woman, they’ve bypassed the hurdle of dangerous, immaterial preconceptions by creating the ultimate debut album: a future classic brimming with effortless, tangible love songs.

With resounding beauty, ‘Heterosexuality’ deconstructs social norms through a powerful freedom of self-expression, yet also acknowledges this pain and struggle.

Days Are Gone confirms what everybody already knew in fabulous style; that Haim are the band to shout about.

It's one gripped with thoughts of death and yet somehow it's is the very sound of being alive. Los Campesinos! are a band who've clearly grown up, but here, that's only a good thing.

White Lung push themselves to every corner of the universe on Paradise, presenting a beautiful vision of 22nd Century pun

While the album is certainly softer in sound, it never plays it safe - experimental pay-offs are peppered throughout.

Transforming troubles into huge disco-pop bangers, these may be difficult times, but NZCA LINES will be throwing the greatest party ever nonetheless.

The signs for the band’s third aren’t too rosy, and yet their latest does go some way to showing the defter touch they first struck out with.

Emotionally honest, across its twelve tracks the group detail feelings of longing, losing your sense of self and awaiting something more in a wholly atmospheric manner. Ripping up their rulebook? Hardly. Giving long-time fans something new to enjoy? You bet.

While the classic Warpaint tropes - clever, heady interplay; four voices weaving as one - are present and correct, this time the more icy edges are rounded off in favour of softness and a nurturing sense of femininity.

Each track conjures up dusty Nashville bars, from the spoken word sandwiched between a lament to love on album closer ‘Chain Of Tears’ to a knowing play on country cliches on Jenny’s exploration of happiness in her forties, ‘Puppy and a Truck’.

Heavy with feeling throughout, it makes for a record that’s often a tough listen. But for cathartically allowing herself to tackle life’s most difficult subjects, you’ve got to applaud her.

Dizzee remains in touch with the youthful verve of earlier efforts with ‘E3 AF’, a freshness that, for the most part, is carried throughout.

It’s not quite the full spectrum of colours, but there’s an ambitious scale within its palette that allows Arca to craft the textural masterpiece that Xen quite often hints at being.

Much like Nirvana's 'Incesticide' or Smashing Pumpkins 'Pisces Iscariot', this is an excellent record in its own right, and an essential addition to any collection for both ardent Frankophiles as well as those just discovering him.

While not wholly consistent, Teleman’s third LP contains some of their best work yet.

A melting pot of the band’s real-life influences - with more elements of dance and hip hop thrown into their rock hybrid than ever before - this is a version of You Me At Six we’ve never seen before, and it’s certainly bold.

It’s Claud’s willingness to inject humour and playfulness into an ultimately ambitious record that makes ‘Supermodels’ work.

Most importantly, though, ‘Santhosam’ lives up to its name, as a record that reflects happiness.

‘Eels Time!’ is arguably a touch one-track, and more casual fans may pine for the sonic diversity of ‘Souljacker’. Those who love E at his most contemplative, though, will find plenty to like.

Fans of Fucked Up’s more experimental efforts may be left slightly underwhelmed by Glass Boys, but for what is at heart a hardcore band, it is still a hugely ambitious and exciting record, that hits top gear almost immediately and barely shifts down until the final piano melody of its eponymous closer.

Social despondency and visceral frustration run throughout ‘I Grow Tired But Dare Not Fall Asleep’, a masterful soundtrack to a failing society - one that carries even more weight as we redefine community, connection and togetherness.

It’s a record that feels at once deeply personal and eloquently grand at once. All this aside, musically Sirens is up there with Jaar’s best work

Their second record hits harder, digs deeper and lingers longer than that promising debut, and keeping all eyes on their art proves to be the best statement Preoccupations could ever have offered.

In the end, this is an album with a whimsical construct that fails to extend its ideas and live up to its musical promise.

Choreography is tailor made alternative pop of the highest degree, with enough ear friendly, sing-a-long melodies to entice even the 'older' generation.

Sonnymoon have taken all that we know of our earthly pop, and reconstructed them through the eyes of an alien, and as their first official attempt, it's a pretty good one.

The record’s constant hums and oohs at times whitewash even Algiers’ loftiest intentions, but the moments of clarity amongst all the murk mark the trio out as something staunchly individual.

[In Our Heads] is another joyous triumph.

It may seem strange to get so excited about a record of vocal loops, but Barwick continually proves that truism that art isn't about elements but what you make of them--and this latest album is simply sublime.

Baird has produced a record that you know deserves to be heard, yet want to keep all to yourself.

Pixx has created a debut record that shows her to be a fascinating prospect, and though significant turmoil informed the record, the pay-off is equally as great.

Packed with wit, super-sharp song-writing, and charged with Diet Cig’s now-distinctive personality, Swear I’m Good At This should probably be called ‘Swear I’m Fucking Ace At This’ instead for higher accuracy levels.

It’s a strange mixture of comfort and malaise, but it’s probably the most honest document of the past eighteen months, too.

I Used To Spend So Much Time Alone isn’t as callow as previous Chastity Belt records, and intentionally so, fully digging up the sadness that always lay ever-dormant beneath their tinny-swigging chaos, and leaving behind biting mockery for something that feels vaguer, and also more universal.

The song structures are comparatively comprehensible, and ultimately, the whole process would be somewhat superfluous if the duo weren’t capable of creating something worthwhile to sonically experience.

The universal themes and her way to create tales that draw you in, make for an album that’s more emotionally resonant than her debut.

It’s still a work that’s defined by its own dynamism. Anyone following these guys from the start won’t have doubted their capabilities, but that doesn’t stop A Dream Outside from dwarfing expectations.

Far from a disaster, Ben Khan’s long-awaited debut is a necessary one, feeling like a cleansing of the palate.

‘Expired Candy’ is a whole lot more fun than its sour, stale name might suggest.

The soundscapes on ‘The Loneliest Time’ may not be as grandiose, or as sugar-coated as we’re used to from her, but that doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t still a lot. ‘The Loneliest Time’ is definitely Carly’s most introspective album.

As usual, there’s probably a few too many ideas here and the band trip up on them occasionally--but if they didn’t, it wouldn’t be much of a Deerhoof record.

Falling somewhere between Poliça with an Americana tinge and a less naff Fiona Apple, the likes of ‘Inner Lover’ and ‘This Time’ are cerebral cornerstones that hold up a record characterised by evident catharsis. One for when you’re feeling reflective.

It might well be his most musically bold but thoughtful album to date, yet another stage in Obaro Ejimiwe’s fascinating evolution.

Here and Nowhere Else is relentless in the best possible way.

It’s all very here and now.

In less capable hands, this record might come across as an weighty topic checklist. Sad13, however, doesn’t just raise these discussions, she presents them as a bundle of sexy, glitter-soaked fun.

What With Light And With Love lacks in surprises, it more than makes up for with quality.

More than one kitchen sink has been proudly gafer-taped to their musical fun bus; every idea--however half-formed--integrated with complete confidence. Delivered with the swagger of someone who’s just half-inched Joseph’s Technicolor Dreamcoat, it works spectacularly.

Cerulean Salt represents an outstanding example of that talent blossoming into one of US indie’s most vital and compelling voices.

This is an album then of irresistible forward momentum; brutal and gentle, alien and human.

An intelligent and, most importantly, a cathartic album it allows Ghostpoet to shed his worries in the most eloquent and interesting ways.

Omar Apollo inspires, and his competence as a vocalist is unmistakable on ‘Ivory’. Conflating his electro-pop tendencies with the occasional stride of a campfire guitar, he turns everything he touches to glistening radio gold.

By embracing all sides of his 50 years in the game, ‘Every Loser’ is Iggy throwing out the late-career rulebook and having a whole bunch of fun. Which is, of course, what made him so brilliant in the first place.

Where things ought to be reduced and given more purpose, they instead stampede into goodness-knows-where. Ambition doesn’t always equal perfection. Rock operas have their place, but this isn’t the pick of the bunch.

There are just a few too many of these aggressive, tumultuous ballads and the result is each one loses some of its power every time another crashes into being. Moments where LUH lose their way are compensated for by the flashes of brilliance littered throughout.

From the wonky stomp of ‘Double Denim Hop’, through the ballsy vocals of ‘Stockholm City Rock’ to the unashamedly massive riffs of recent single ‘Hollywood Actors’, frontman Tom Rees doubles down on the things that clearly make him tick.

Striking the right balance between slick and energetic, if a fuzzy but fun album’s what you’re after right now, look no further.

He may not be in our world completely yet but you should keep making the trip to his: it really is a trip.

Whether the group’s sound prevails or begins to show its limitations remains to be seen, but when the songwriting and appetite for invention remains this strong, Django Django certainly have a lot more to give.

Powerful, but in an entirely different way to its predecessor, it’s a record which further proves that the strength of Hayley Williams - as a songwriter, a vocalist, a woman - is still awe-inspiring.

With it, The Beths find their most focused sound yet in the midst of uncertainty.

In short, Night Time, My Time is stunning.

Its second half is abrasive to the extreme, but by this point the hypnotic album’s already worked its charm. If Blunt is ever to settle into a routine, this should be his blueprint.

While his vocal delivery sounds as though he’s having to force each word out through cracked lips at the end of a long night, the accompanying music fits perfectly.

‘Bad Things (That Make You Feel Good)’ sounds like a sped-up take on wholesome pop king Bleachers, while opener ‘Should Be Dancing’ features a half-arsed attempt at pal Alex Turner’s croon. ... A little more humour on Mini Mansions’ third, and they might’ve been able to pull it off.

‘Tell Me That It’s Over’ is a superlative ode to vulnerability, permitting these indie wallflowers to flourish in technicolour.

For anyone who’s long fallen for the Derry native’s charms, third time’s a winner - for anyone who finds comfort in revelling in stripped-back melancholy, it’s a dream.

Scattered takes of pop, gruff-punk and sun-kissed melodies underpin these tales of despondency to cement a whole new style for a band near two decades in, a sound that Joyce Manor have yet to have presented but one that fits them perfectly, and a masterful progression of all that has come before.

Love Is Magic feels like a victory lap. Frequently boundary-pushing, side-splittingly funny and anything but safe, John Grant’s fourth LP is a rip-roaring thrill ride that’s immensely danceable to boot. Magic really does work in mysterious ways.

Thankfully, it’s always Doyle’s intention to break down boundaries, even if he’s ticking verse-into-chorus boxes. As a result, music is the real winner.

Let’s Eat Grandma clearly have the potential to merge fantasy and instant fix pop, but this debut is more a showcase of their peculiarities than anything else.

If there is one fault, it may be that, at times, the production and backing is a little too restrained.... [But] It really is a thing of beauty, and gets better with every listen; one of the surest signs of something that will ultimately be deemed timeless.