‘The Good Kind’ is a slow burner, but a rewarding one.

Without the literary cues being on show, there’s somewhat of a jarring effect as the record staggers between styles; the menacing high-pitched note that pierces the rumbling bass of ‘Holy Bones’ hints at danger, but comes met with an underwhelming chorus.

It’s jarring, unhinged and idiosyncratic, in part akin to a musical at its most weird (not least on closer, ‘To Know Her’). Yet, for a performer and creative as unchained to convention as Jessica Winter, it was never going to be anything less.

Where her debut ‘Not Your Muse’ saw her solidify her status as a truly modern voice within jazz and soul, ‘Woman Of Faces’ transports her to somewhere entirely otherworldly.

For an album winding in length, it doesn’t outstay its welcome; if the jump to a major means more lovingly fashioned breeziness like this, then so much the better.

A journey of self-discovery, confidence abounding like limits simply don’t exist.

This is an album polished enough to see your face in, and yet it’s probably--and this isn’t necessarily a criticism--the most disjointed Holy Fuck album to date.

'Breakup Song' manages to hone and control their more outré-moments into a more cohesive structure than before without every compromising the band's predilection for sheer bonkers-ness.

[The Haunted Man is] beautiful, daring, and captivating, the sound of pop's dark heart carving out its own niche and cementing Khan's status as one of our most inventive, ambitious artists.

Much like a pungent stilton, this is difficult prospect to recommend or advise against, especially if this is your first experience of Xiu Xiu. Dip your toe in the water, though, and there are bits to love.

Where ‘Spirituals’ - which both marks a return from a four-year break and Santi’s first release as an independent artist - works best, is as reminder and introduction. The cut-and-paste, mixtape ethos that shone through in the first place is still there.

With songs that have long ago morphed into brutal initiations, if you can somehow defend yourself long enough Ho99o9 almost invite you to see their world through their hazed-over eyes. In a shadowy landscape of startling binary logic, it becomes easy to draw the line through through Converge, The Prodigy, Death Grips, Pantera, The Stooges, Danny Brown and DMX if you’re only here with that one goal--to start the fire. Ho99o9’s particular arson is burning bright.

It’s a rousing ending, and one of the few mesmerising moments on the album: it’s just a shame that the band don’t commit to one route or the other.

The Philadelphia quartet’s appeal is built on an earnestness and an honesty that leaks from every sweat-channelling pore of The Things We Do To Find People Who Feel Like Us.

Warm and opening yet still dazzlingly inventive.

‘The Prettiest Curse’ is packed with grooves, hooks and riffs, and from the opening bass drum to the closing fade, not a single beat is missed.

It's loveable, thrilling and properly innovative.

The puffier-chested side of his persona is still perfectly enjoyable, but when he packs away his bluster for the second half of the record, he creates something truly memorable.

‘Airhead’ is a piece of bubblegum goodness, ‘Haunted’ is a celestial sizzler, while ‘Jumper’ almost calls back to 00s pop-punk classics (with an AG spin, obv) and closer ‘Lifeline’ is a sprawling synth slowburner. Though sprinkled with bops, ‘Apple’ doesn’t pack the expected punch.

‘Cool’’s sharp pop unfolds with a satisfying lightness of touch.

Through lulling endless days to fretting thoughts about the future, they remain the same bunch, capable of making the impossible sound almost too easy.

Their knack for storytelling--which frontman Andrew Savage has always sported no matter what project he’s been involved in--has matured, providing extra strength to the slow jams this time around.

There’s an altogether calmer atmosphere on display here, that in its beauty forgoes some of the immediacy that characterised her earlier catalogue’s stand-out moments.

While Circa Waves are stepping up, they’re just as confident in stripping things back.

It’s difficult to shake the feeling that the likes of the upbeat ‘Brass Locket’ or the barely-there ‘Hunting Dog’ that this is territory Regan has already long since claimed, and that as good as he is at it, the law of diminishing returns is bound to kick in eventually. Instead, what we need more of is the likes of ‘Glaciers’, all implied menace and thick atmospherics.

There’s a real sense of space, Squirrel Flower already showing herself to be an artist comfortable in her own skin. They aren’t all hushed ballads though, the instrumentation even verges on grungy at times, but make no mistake, there’s an absolute flow here. An accomplished first full-length.

‘CollXtion I’ posed Allie as an exciting new songwriter, but this record fails to push boundaries in the same way.

Seeking Thrills sees Georgia lean in much more eagerly on the late-night grooves that have been supporting her breakthrough. ’Started Out’ and ‘About Work The Dancefloor’ make for solid, established openers, but there’s no shortage of other ideas that make complete sense in the soundtrack of modern lives.

An extended gap since their last full-length outing has resulted in their sharpest raft of material since ‘Cease to Begin’.

As a starting point, So It Goes is a damn fine one.

Their knack for incredible hooks is still there (see ‘Holiday’, the very definition of an earworm), but the effortless fun seems to have fallen by the wayside.

This debut sets a nice, if mostly safe, blueprint.

It’s difficult to imagine the results being this good if Cross had limited studio time, or if she tried to record vocal takes with strangers listening in.

Kurt takes a leaf out of Courtney’s book and wears his heart on his sleeve, searching for introspection and delving into his deepest and most personal lyrics to date--about love, loss and everything in between.

The Silver Gymnasium lacks some of whatever it was that made previous albums like 'Black Sheep Boy' and 'The Stage Names' so special.

[Sun] is never less than intriguing, and more than often, grabs you by the heartstrings and pulls you in.

For listeners craving substance served side-by-side with flash, Lower Dens’ world is one worth exploring. The band may be at their most accessible, but they’re not about to make it easy.

While there’s a constant sense of fun, there’s also always a consciousness about who, or what the Rolling Stones are.

There’s a slight irony in the fact that an album so jam-packed is entitled ‘Silence Is Loud’, but the remarkable feat of Nia Archives’ debut is that it somehow never feels too much or too choppy; for all its referential nods and sonic variation, this is still a project that is cohesively, distinctly her.

A ten-track album that combines both of their styles to create something that doesn’t sound quite like either of them.

At their core, Cymbals Eat Guitars is still the same band as before--just bigger and bolder, more sharpened and focused. And they’re better for it.

A far way away from debut ‘Chaleur humaine’, yet just as unafraid, ’PARANOÏA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE’ is like no other exploration of grief - a new magnum opus.

Much like their previous releases, Run Around the Sun is a collection of delightful, sunshine-soaked fuzz-pop.

La Femme toss so many weird and interesting ideas against the wall, that for every gorgeous moment that sticks, there’s an awkward miss.

McMorrow has shaken off the folk singer with a guitar tag to give us an album pregnant with intrigue, creativity and diversity.

Unexpected, indulgent, and an absolute joy, ‘Metronomy Forever’ is a prophecy to get behind.

Lewd, bulshy, and gaudier than a kitsch ornaments warehouse with a sprung glitter pipe, Rub is a return to form, and hideously brilliant, garish good fun.

Sincerely, Future Pollution is in some ways a perfect representation of our conflicted, uncertain times, but it also makes the record a challenging, uncompromising listen.

Holding Hands With Jamie remains an untamed beast that’ll pave the way for Girl Band’s unstoppable ascent. There remains a nagging feeling, however, that this deadly work could’ve forced an apocalypse if delivered with more conviction.

Throughout the record, Fenne provides a poignant glimpse into the uncertainty surrounding your whole life changing in front of you.

Dylan Baldi’s vocals are presented in a somewhat hushed manner, turning what could be a bona fide rock banger (there’s a pep in this chorus, to be sure) into an also-ran. On the numbers that more closely resemble the Cloud Nothings trademark sound - see the melodic ‘Mouse Policy’, or the bright ‘The Golden Halo’ - it’s an ideal fit.

They skillfully marry sonics and subject matter with smart precision to instead offer an evocative, multi-faceted commentary on contemporary culture that exists at the intersection between natural and human, destruction and rebirth.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’

For every moment of devastating weariness, there are several moments of chilling beauty and it is this which keeps the band from being overly oppressive in its sound.

Frontwoman Lili Trifilio describes ‘Honeymoon’ as an ode to spontaneity, and it’s in certain abundance on an album that finds the Chicagoan outfit entering a state of pent-up rapture. The band roam without a care, sporadic laid-back moments gelled with raucous vitality - a sensitive chemistry which Beach Bunny absolutely nail.

For the most part, though, what ‘Path of Wellness’ signifies is Sleater-Kinney pulling away from their past, towards an era likely to lean heavily not just on their pop sensibilities, but on the move beyond the old push-and-pull relationship between the now-duo - a songwriting bond once defined by their differences has given way to a seamless understanding.

‘The Love Invention’ runs the gamut of immediate, dancefloor-ready electro-pop with style.

A fifth album u-turn that few could pull off, Boy King is the sound of a band reborn. The core elements are all still there--that falsetto-baritone play-off between vocalists Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming as prominent as ever--but they’re glitched-up and garbled.

Opener ‘Happen To Me’ has echoes of The Japanese House’s introspection, and the acoustic nature of ‘Same Effect’ and ‘A Little While’ bear more than a passing similarity to Billie Eilish’s quieter moments. Add to that the cosign of alt-pop foremothers Lily Allen (‘Plain’) and Grimes (‘Sheesh’) and BENEE’s on to a winner.

The album suffers from a few rough patches, but Geese have freed themselves from all expectations, which is a rare feat for a second album, and worthy of praise.

The visceral imagery and headlines that ushered in Suicide Songs ends up serving to hold it back a little; an album that’s excellent at times, but which arrived with preconceptions so strong that could never be matched.

With a stark lyrical dexterity and deliciously noodling guitar riffs, the album is torn between crippling sentiment and stark detachment.

‘Music’ is clean listening at its finest. The formula works well but that doesn’t mean the LP is lacking in surprises.

Underlining everything is a sense that he’s playing to his musical strengths, both in terms of the way he incorporates so many aspects of his sonic calling card; droll lyricism, field recordings, off-kilter melodies, and a general sense that he’s having the analog and the electronic meet at deliberately awkward junctures - making it all the more impressive when, counterintuitively, the kind of clashes that define ‘Nightmare Scenario’ or ‘Starlight’ actually work strikingly well.

Come LP3, maybe they’ll reinvent themselves as a more wholesome proposition; for now, ‘Welfare Jazz’ stands as a document of a band that are perhaps more in limbo than they might first appear.

This is an album of climaxes and cathartic streams of consciousness, but an album listenable from start to finish.

Where Westerman’s debut suffers is in its consistency: there’s such a distinctive sonic palette that, within a batch of tracks whose tempo never steps past ‘mid’, it’s hard for individual offerings to always stand out. But really he’s done the hard work; now Westerman’s defined his niche, all he has to do is refine it a little.

By the closing moments of the eery ‘Monolith’, it all becomes clear: this is love, but through the unmistakable eyes of IDLES.

After years of the slow build, the release is here. Believe the hype.

‘star-crossed’ mirrors the pain of a breakup, from turbulence through heartbreak to hope and self-acceptance. It’s here where she fully embraces Nashville storytelling. Far from spinning distant, third-person tales, each track feels incredibly personal.

‘All or Nothing’ is a grand refinement of their previous work, rather than a reinvention. Still retained is that amazing sense of propulsion and momentum the group have made their own; ‘Initiative’ and ‘Body Clock’ are impossibly fast, constantly threatening to overbalance themselves, yet always remaining resolute and gloriously intact.

While the album may find itself guilty of treading the line of pretty-but-unassuming at times - the sheer beauty of every detail is impressive, if not a little tiring - ‘Time’s Arrow’ remains a sumptuous listen.

Eclectic almost to an extreme, Baio combines reckless abandon with infectious introspection to create something entirely, captivatingly new.

The album will chew you up, spit you out, and disorient you, and once you’re back out, withdrawals from the pandemonium will make you want to do it all over again.

‘CONFLICT DLC’ is not a reinvention - more a purification of the brutal beauty of the HEALTH live show.

A clear adoration for 90s bands doesn’t stop Return to Love from being an extremely strong album from 2016, and an undoubted step up.

Old Fears makes for a fascinating record, evolving gradually from start to finish and yet doing so in a way subtle enough so as to never jar nor stand out.

hite Lung sound absolutely enormous on Deep Fantasy, and it's a testament to their stamina and technical abilities that they just do not let up on the pace.

‘Forever’ balances the frivolity of youth with its turbulent realities, all through the sun-kissed lens of the past and the band’s almighty guitar pop sound.

The follow-up, a more considered harnessing of all that raw potential, shows just what they’re capable of.

The first five tracks all clock in at under 2-and-a-half minutes and are almost all punchy, ferocious and crunchy. It’s bold and uncompromising, but often buries the singer-songwriter’s voice both literally and metaphorically in an overbearing soundscape. ... The record’s second half sees Indigo let loose, switching up her formula: songs are longer, more expansive, and it’s all the better for it.

The most complete result of his vision he’s committed to record thus far.

Ex Lives just sounds like a band going through the motions.

This opening statement from a band emerging as one of Britain’s most inspired and uncompromising, could just be a strong starting step in a vivid and unconventional journey.

While some moments are clearly domain of a single entity, the truth is that the six-headed monster don’t always make it that easy, instead opting to blur their sensibilities into a playful, dance rock smear.

Although initially self-released, Alvvays' lap of honour is about as road-tripping, beach-friendly and lazy day-appropriate as any album comes.

A racing sense fun propels much of The Julie Ruin’s latest, and it’s a more refined step forward from the debut.

Loma Vista is a ultimately an immediately enjoyable, if easily forgettable album, far too one-sided for its own good, and more a showcase of a band who are capable of writing a handful of very good pop songs, but not an album worthy of any longevity.

What Duologue should be most proud of in Song & Dance is the variety and the consistently high quality.

Nothing quite matches 'This Is What It Feels Like', but that alone is enough to give genuine reason to BANKS' mighty cause.

They follow through with their gaudy intentions perfectly, and like an outdated sci-fi film filled with dodgy costumes and flaky green-screen, ‘Man It Feels Like Space Again’ manifests itself in bold, kitschy, and psychedelic appeal from start to finish.

At only four tracks in length, Cheatahs’ contemporaries will struggle to compete with a record twice as long.

Hessler has returned a man, sounding free of obstacles and matured by the events in his life. This doesn’t just come across in his lyricism, but sonically also.

Trick is a record that feels like a trip back into what he once was, only with all his senses heightened. ‘Grudge’ was polished; this is as rough and ready as it gets.

While Ken is more accessible than its predecessor it seems unlikely to affect the Vancouver musician’s cult name status.

Overall The Moral Crossing reveals an evolution for the Leeds five-piece. A more textured album than their first which sees them juxtapose the darkness with the light, both through cathartic lyricism but also through a higher confidence and ability to experiment which the freedom of your own studio must bring.

They’ve crafted a terrific out-and-out rock record.

Students of jazz, but with a love of avant-garde art punk and West African music, Pom Poko bring something chaotic to the table. ... But this is their bread and butter; the kaleidoscopic realm in which they thrive.