6 Feet Beneath The Moon broods, spits confidence and sits, thinks just as much.

Admittedly, her debut has been a bit of a long time coming--with last minute changes delaying until 2015--but with her songwriting already sounding accomplished and confident, it’s been time well spent.

Peckham three-piece Little Cub make electronic music with a human heart, Dominic Gore’s observant lyrics adding depth to the analogue synth lines and snapping beats that propel them.

There is a mesmeric quality to the production on the soothing ‘Vista’, while ‘I Don’t Know What To Save’ builds from a sparse, almost whispered vocal delivery to a euphoric chorus.

Much like the process of inner work, ‘TELL DEM IT’S SUNNY’ is gently transformative; it channels patience and expansion, ultimately speaking to the heart as a continuation of the unending path that Greentea has shown listeners thus far.

Torn between old habits and a limber, more flexible stance, this fifth album stands as a misty mix of downtempo vibes with sombre, often questioning lyrics - Real Estate strike out here, thriving in the art of surprise and subversion.

There’s a deep hip hop pulse to many of the tracks, which sometimes transform themselves into jungle beats, usually accompanied by galactic synth stabs and waves of sound that transport the listener to a cosmic plane.

The Terror stares back at you like panicked faces underneath a frozen lake, visible, but distant. It’s giant metallic bugs filling an apocalyptic sky and blotting out a blood red sun.

‘OUI, LSF’ is a storming return that suggests that, far from having run out of steam, the possibilities for Les Savy Fav are again endless.

A mish-mash of sounds, picked up magpie-style to create something which consistently skirts the line between warm and distant, familiar and disconcerting, hypnotic and, well, irritating.

Predictably, then, it's all too easy to 'find' (read: go searching for subconsciously or otherwise) shifts in the Welsh singer-songwriter's sound on this follow-up.

2014 saw many bands trying to recreate sounds of the past in their own way, but with Viet Cong, the band are remoulding genre conventions and confirming that they’re not settling for anything other than pushing the boundaries.

Equally, whilst there are no real lows on the album, the highs are equally not of the sky-scraping variety, ‘Let Go’ ending the album on a quiet if easily forgettable note.

Fast forward several years, and we find Will, her first record since 2013’s ‘Nepenthe’ both taking her music further into more straightforward terrain while remaining doggedly, indelibly weird.

Julien Baker and TORRES are both immersive, insightful songwriters in their own right; together, their partnership is a resounding testament to resilience and tentative hope.

The resulting back-and-forth between herself and Ellery - her honeyed tones set against his unmistakably raspy roars - is enthralling, and holds up regardless of musical backdrop. There’s low-key moments of genuine menace (‘Black Sun Rising’, the disquieting churn of ‘Serenity Says’) and some major key nods towards anthemic territory, too.

Contagious and sarcastic, in-your-face and self-aware yet ultimately all about cutting loose, Wavves have offered up an album that proves themselves as leaders in the punk pack.

Colourful, brilliantly messy, and a fully committed hodge-podge of psych and spacecake croons, ‘Awaken, My Love!’ is unlikely to shed further light on exactly what Childish Gambino is at heart, but by now, Glover’s erratic approach is surely part of his central appeal.

Whilst it's not the most cohesive electronic debut, there are some interesting ideas grounded in 'Order Of Noise' that are a jumping off point for Vessel's later material. This darker, more apocalyptic realm of electronic music is often cold and uninviting; sometimes that can work to its advantage but here, Gainsborough just falls short.

Crucially, this project feels born from a pure place of fandom and community; much greater than the sum of its parts, it’s a meeting of minds that definitely feels worth the wait.

This is a decent effort made frustrating by Segall’s prodigious talent.

The Savage Heart couldn't be more vital. What The Jim Jones Revue do is good. The way they do it is nothing short of brilliant.

What you’re left with is near 40 minutes of slow and sweaty seduction executed exquisitely by weeping guitar.

The sense of optimism is infectious, and even with plenty of stiff competition for the title, The Endless Shimmering might be the year’s most exhilarating post-rock album.

There’s an effervescent sense of fun that fizzes throughout here on an LP heavily indebted to the work of Kathleen Hanna, both in its sound and its politics.

Granted, at some points it does feel a little unrelenting, but the sheer ferocity of this record illustrates a band intently focused on the future, and breaking through to the next level.

For a record titled ‘Messy’ it could ironically do with being a little less neat and tidy.

Dave Longstreth conjures up something resembling a clear picture from all the record’s wildly disparate elements, and ‘Dirty Projectors’ serves to unify his most experimental moments with the door-opening impact of ‘Bitte Orca’.

Minor quibbles aside, ‘Never Exhale’ is a gripping exercise in textured menace.

The vocal interplay meshes with the restless instrumentation and some of the most layered and considered storytelling that anyone could ask for. For an agitated, hyper collection of weird songs about made up or distorted topics TFS come achingly close to the total package.

Even with a debut album, their ascent has been so steep the opening salvo feels like a premature greatest hits.

As impressively considered as the group are when it comes to their compositions, they evoke a cold feeling of invulnerability within their music that’s hard to avoid.

A swift album that’ll prove difficult to grow tired of.

‘Printer’s Devil’ is the sound of a band who seem to have had a significant boost in their sonic confidence, even if Julia’s words are as fraught as ever.

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’.

It’s an album that feels lived in, drawing listeners into its world while leaving room for their own experiences to settle between the lines. In the tension between euphoria and comedown, connection and isolation, Arlo Parks delivers her most vividly realised and affecting body of work to date.

Sugar & Spice cements her as the modern day successor to dream pop titans Cocteau Twins from the get-go.

While it’s about as colourful as the phantasmagoric cover art suggests, it might have sounded a bit more grounded if the band weren’t given the keys to so many synthesisers and effects pedals - and Kevin Parker’s heady production only makes it even woozier. Beneath all the superfluous sonic meddling, though, it’s still a voyage worth beholding.

The results are quietly overwhelming.

Re-emerging with off the grid mystique, Torres retains the grit of past efforts while doubling down on off-kilter charisma, securing a slick slice of alt-pop; her most complete and consistent yet.

It’s Real is at its best when the trio let loose and steam ahead with out-and-out rock and roll; the breathless ‘Cosmic Cave’ and assured strut of ‘Good Times’ suggest that catching Ex Hex on the road this year will be every bit as essential as last time out.

Dead & Born & Grown is a record perfect for those long dark winter nights, an emotionally rich collection of songs that deserves to put Watford firmly on the musical map.

Sure, there’s fewer marimbas on offer here, but Dutch Uncles have still served up a finger-lickin’ feast.

For those to whom Courtney’s songwriting is a soothing balm, there is plenty to like here - but there’s a sense of creative inertia that means it’s a difficult record to truly love.

On Bad Witch, Trent Reznor has curated a feeling, an atmosphere, an idea.

For Yoncalla the band finally recorded together. You can hear it. It’s the sound of a band in room.

There is still room for what feels like his natural habitat - the wistful ‘Frozen Oranges’ is classic, reflective Berninger - but in the main, this is the sound of him really beginning to stretch his legs as a solo artist.

Amid an existing height of musical Afrofuturism, ‘Sweet Justice’ is a crowning achievement - an assertion of self through distinct and precise perspective at the apex of a movement.

This is a record which will no doubt appeal to long-term fans of the band as it revels in the same sonic territory as their previous output, and it works as a party-starting soundtrack with its simple lyrics and vitality, but there's a distinct lack of any real depth or enterprise.

It's a fine debut.

It’s a feel good album, not through cynical design, but just through making whoever is listening feel good.

Resisting the twin urges to oversimplify or over-complicate where inappropriate, Vessels may have succeeded in making one of the smartest and most beguiling electronic albums of the year.

Kill The One You Love is a record built around hope, and around finding the optimism in fatalism, and the inevitable freedom that comes with such a discovery. As such, it feels much less a debut, and far more an aphorism from the mouths of a band wise beyond their years.

Whenever debut LP neo swerves close to normality, these formula-shunners tear things to shreds.

An intriguing new chapter from Emmy The Great that carves out a world you can dive into.

Tempering the unfettered experimentation of their last outing, 2022’s ‘Tableau’ (where tracks clocked in anywhere between 50 seconds and eight minutes), ‘Only You Left’ does indeed emerge as a more structured project, roughly bound by a central polarity of “wood versus metal”.

It's one of the most powerful records to be released in a very long time.

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’.

The fact that Vernon’s voice is so distinctive means it’s difficult to distinguish this from his Bon Iver work yet there’s more than enough shimmering beauty here to get excited about.

It is among The Dodos’ best work--Carrier is a fitting eulogy.

An utterly evocative, disarming full-length that’ll haunt listeners long after its reached its conclusion.

On this record, their drum-and-synths minimalism is more refined, the bass-lines more prominent, the hooks almost embarrassingly memorable.

It remains to be seen whether The Art Of Pretending To Swim will gain Villagers hoards of new followers, but fans of the Irish five-piece will put their fourth record right up there with their best.

Yet as overt and outwardly targeted the likes of ‘The Men Who Rule The World’ and ‘Godhead’ are (“would you deceive me if I had a dick?” Shirley asks on the latter), the album finds space for the introversion that has previously allowed Garbage to cross over.

A decidedly more organic record; buoyant and witty, and notably shy of meandering eight-minute odysseys.

The idea behind Quazarz is indeed fascinating, and could have been a unique way of talking about the modern social and political climate. Unfortunately, sometimes it feels like the quest for a particular vibe has sometimes been prioritised over the underlying message.

While these tracks are testament to how well the LA trio can build an astronomical sense of atmosphere, they can create icy harshness with equal brilliance.

A deeply thoughtful and yet infinitely danceable collection of songs, it balances honest truths with taunting vocals and bursts of synth-prompted energy.

The most obvious uniting factor between this record and their previous ones, in fact, is their ability to write a whole host of bulletproof choruses, and it’s tricky to imagine coming unstuck from this album any time soon.

Most definitely one of the best albums of the year so far.

Across its 14 tracks, Silver Dollar Moment rarely deviates from the same emotional note throughout. Leaving off ‘Sugar…’ also feels criminal.

From the hyperactive ‘Momentz’, which sees De La Soul returning to the fold once more, to the creepy, intense Grace Jones-featuring ‘Charger’, Humanz is by far the weirdest Gorillaz album ever released, and a struggle to get through in one sitting. There’s a certain cohesion here though, largely focused around dissatisfaction and rallying together.

Sprightly, desperately alive and joyously nostalgic, Plumb sees Field Music waving an exultant goodbye to the shipwrecked post-punk revival they'd always been wary of and sailing into classic art-pop waters.

These guys just made you want to flail your arms around and shout the lyrics. Heel-stomping music. God-forbid, head-banging music.

What 'TOY' lacks in originality, it more than makes up for with an incredibly rich dot-to-dot of psychedelia laced musical education, and this album is, to coin an awful new musical genre, Nu-new-wave at its very best.

Moments like the stripped-back vulnerability of ‘Dust’ and the lyrical mirroring of ‘The Lovers’ show Deptford Goth at his minimal best.

The experience is filmic first and foremost, barely for a minute could Les Revenants survive as a stand-alone album, but it’s the curiosity and atmospherics of that leant narrative that compels the listener through the album.

Where The Acid surpass their peers is with the sheer emotional depth layered into each track.

Contact is a disappointment because it's packed with untapped potential, which never seems to be fully realised.

On The Far Field Future Islands have captured their humanity in all its sparkling, chaotic glory.

Vols. 11 & 12 yield nothing but successes. The eight tracks here are scrappy, sure, and have the understandable feel of demos rather than fully formed final products. But the bones of the beast? Well, they’re kind of brilliant.

‘Good Luck’ is undoubtedly at its best when Debby is going full-pelt to evoke those early-noughties electroclash moods, but there’s barely a misplaced beat throughout.

Another compelling chapter in Enumclaw’s story so far.

The most complete archiving of everywhere Nine Inch Nails has been, but more than that a jaw-dropping preview of everywhere it can go.

A feather-light collection of alt-country, packed with pedal steel, lilting melodies and Buck’s own evocative Texan burr.

Whatever the lyrical content, musically every move feels like an affirming one. You’re never more than a short skip from something gigantic.

Ultimately, this is the strongest Bird has sounded in some time, but it’s not quite the monumental breakthrough that’s going to find him new fans.

A reminder of the echoing, scatter-brain drumming trips of the good old days.

Citizen haven’t mellowed per se, the emotion on ‘As You Please’ is as grand and raw as ever, but they have refined their delivery, and their latest album manages not to shortchange that underlying sentiment while expanding their sonic palette.

It’s eerie, it’s weird, and maybe a tad too long (it could still perhaps work as a three-minute interlude or similar) but regardless, it still somehow manages to feel like Pigs x7 while offering a welcome change. By its last quarter, ‘Land of Sleeper’ feels like it’s said all it can.

Overall, ‘Unclouded’ is a further incantation of psych-pop goodness.

‘if i could make it go quiet’ has all the qualities of a blockbuster pop record - incessant hooks, A-list producer credits - but hone in on each track and you’ll find intimate vignettes that are fully-formed in themselves.

Milano doesn’t come with the cinematic sensibilities or the polish that ‘Rome’ did, but its sheer boisterousness and rough-and-ready sonic approach does justice to the underground movement that it aims to serve as homage to.

Inventive, rough-edged, and darkly witty at times, Ratboys’ second record isn’t just a well-crafted listen; it’s thoughtful, tender, and incisive at every turn.

There’s something inherently welcoming in the short, sharp, and lyrically open songs, as Laura looks both inwards and outwards at her identity, her chosen music, and her vices. Each track unfolds with an ease only reserved for somebody with so much skin in the game.

Gallows at their harshest, their angriest and their most thrilling and it turns out that no change in frontman can stop that.

It's not as acoustic and stripped back as some will expect but it does not disappoint (unless you were waiting on eleven 'Ballgames').

It’s not light-hearted or easy to stomach, but for placing themselves into the shoes of others and broadcasting from the inside, there’s no real match for Public Service Broadcasting.