This more paired-back approach isn’t always successful, mind: certain parts of Sex & Food--a bit like inviting whipped cream into the bedroom--seem like a really good idea at the start, but turn into a bit of a sloppy mess along the way.

Tender without being twee, this debut LP ultimately captures a moment that is both genuine and touching.

It’s the fuller pieces that really make you want to keep coming back.

It’s short and easily missed, but catch it and you’ll be able to feel the excitement, freedom, and, perhaps, relief of a band rejuvenated.

The startling openness with which Kate writes is nothing but warming.

There’s so much to take in, it’s almost hard to know if it’s even any good. Between these sensory overloads, however, we get the funky bop of ‘All Wordz Are Made Up’ and the acoustic lullaby of ‘Think Before You Drink’.

There’s still those effortless signature guitars and plenty of light to counteract the shade, but overall Francis Trouble is a more risky counterpart to his earthbound sibling.

The results are quietly overwhelming.

This is the first Hot Snakes record since 2004 and it sounds every inch as if it was formed in the same mould as the last three, despite all of the work that John and Rick have done together and apart since then.

They continue to create and deliver captivatingly unique songs, further cementing themselves as one of the most exciting bands in British alternative rock.

Staying At Tamara’s doesn’t shelve real-life problems, but simply recognises the power in taking yourself away.

In a world of easy sound bites and shallow narratives New Material has withdrawn from the spectacle to pursue a whole new goal--to teach you something about yourself.

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

It’s weird and brilliant, and anything but regressive.

A rare album without a single Achilles heel, The Magic Gang have created a debut that’ll be remembered as a milestone moment in years to come.

Where Wildness Grows is an ode to patience, determination and second chances. Given theirs, Gengahr have smashed it.

Extension relies not just on quality component parts (of which there are many here), but too on tender placement and a development which holds some compassion for the listener. On this rich but straggling album, of Montreal fail on both accounts.

American Utopia isn’t a complete paradise. Yet, there’s enough upbeat vibes on offer here to perhaps make you feel a little more optimistic about the future.

Young Fathers haven’t done what was expected of them on Cocoa Sugar but in dodging expectations once again, they continue to triumph.

There are fleeting moments to enjoy. But while aiming for something epic in scope, the five-piece have again delivered an album that will keep wheels turning for another few years.

For all the twists and turns that Rolo Tomassi have made, this is their first album that can reasonably be described as being, first and foremost, riotously good fun.

To write about topics this intimate is brave. For Camp Cope to do so with honesty and enchanting fury takes a lot of energy--and that is nothing short of valiant.

Titus Andronicus have always melted together the music of their heroes, but this time it feels completely without inspiration.

There is a lot of polish to Moaning, to the point that it’s carried off almost with a bit of a swagger.

In typical Soccer Mommy fashion, there’s little flashy footwork to be found here; only expertly-shaped understated songs that give more with every listen. Stepping beyond the groundwork of her debut collection, and sounding all the more confident for it, Sophie Allison shoots, and she scores.

Even as Lucy deals with massive topics including death, hope, and major life transitions, she offers listeners entry points back into their own worlds, all while strengthening her already taut grip on rustling, soul-blemished rock.

Wilfully experimental and typically fluid, Drift is an album that will keep you on your toes.

While it may flag a bit in its latter moments though, All Nerve still has moments where the magic of this particular, iconic incarnation of The Breeders feels recaptured.

Excess and saturation can only get a band so far without a knowing wink to match, and at the moment, it’s that mischievous streak of personality that feels slightly absent.

A big and brilliant step out of the box.

Lo Moon is a daring and complex debut album scored through with emotional tumult and a nuanced understanding of the groups that have inspired them.

Even as they strain between varying poles, Frigs still manage to find moments of great, if sombre, beauty. That’s not basic at all.

There aren’t quite enough hooks to unite some of the more exciting experimentalism, but when SHIRT does throw them it’s not certain that they land.

Sneaking under the half-hour mark, Time & Space is a comprehensive thrash that places Turnstile as the most inventive, forward-thinking band in hardcore.

Poliça have broken new ground and consolidated old strengths with this laudable step outside of their comfort zone.

Uncle, Duke and The Chief is a chirpy affair that’s very much in the vein we’ve come to expect, even when there’s a sadness permeating the lyrics.

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

It’s obvious where Marlon Williams’s influences lie but he expertly melds his roots with elements of chamber pop and ‘50s heartbreak amid a sea of textures. Make Way For Love is nuanced, subtle and evocative.

Anxiety might still be rooted in Ought’s foundations, but by looking beyond it the four-piece have made their richest, greatest work yet.

It takes no prisoners musically or lyrically. And, despite the exasperation which the album channels, the tracks never feel too dark and this is largely, in part to the warmth which hides below the rage in Mac McCaughan’s delivery, along with the guitars which remain defiantly loud.

The message of US Girls hides under an instrumental output which is far more intriguing than its lyrics--the music is a bit too good for its political musings to be wholeheartedly focused on.

None of this feels enough to truly deserve that futuristic tag, but maybe this new set-up just needs time to find their own MO? In the meantime, we’ve got another great single to add to that hypothetical greatest hits.

Only the moody, foreboding ‘Over It’ hints at the pair testing their own boundaries; otherwise, this is another solid Deathrays outing.

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

A fun, full-of-heart pop record that’s 2018’s first big surprise.

Blood, like ‘Woman’, is honest. It’s an endearing expression of sexuality.

When they strip things back and leave space for each element to breathe--as on the purely orchestral title track--Open Here can be a joy, a deeply astute pop album that’s also often brimming with fun. While pushing their boundaries as far as they can go though, it sometimes makes for a record that can feel frustratingly cluttered.

While ‘The Hum’ proved a logical step forward for Hookworms, ‘Microshift’ pays little attention to the script, and is all the more thrilling for it.

Whether figuratively (say, the disjointed delivery and post-punk rhythms of The Slits and the fearlessness of Kathleen Hanna) or literally (that Spice Girls riff in ‘F.U.U’), Dream Wife have taken all they’ve absorbed from decades of iconic women and created, well, a dream of a record.

This album feels purposely written to soundtrack their future barbecues, like they’re just playing what they’d want to dance to. That kind of pure, genuine enthusiasm is always infectious, and ‘Marble Skies’ feels like a joy ride.

For Nils Frahm, this record is nothing new: on his terms it is not extraordinary. But for mere mortals, All Melody is a bracing cacophony of the possibilities of minute sonic experimentation.

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

Time away hasn’t dulled No Age’s musical sword--they’re sharper and brighter than ever.

While Freedom’s Goblin doesn’t exactly blow the doors off of his usual sound, it’s a solid addition to the canon that rattles between all corners of this self-made niche.

With Hold On To Your Heart the trio have crafted another bold and brilliant album which soars higher than ever before.

It still has the eccentricities that make them such an intriguing band, but without compromising on these elements Tune-Yards have still made their most accessible, danceable and thought-provoking album to date.

Semicircle won’t seem like a giant leap for the band but is yet another upbeat, buoyant addition to their canon, injected with an even greater sense of community spirit.

The power and ferocity with which they do so across the album--as well as its rollocking instrumentation and clear social conscience--makes it a triumph.

There’s a lot to like on Cohen’s debut, and plenty to suggest a follow-up could soar to far greater heights, but not enough to suggest a commercial breakthrough could be on the cards.

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.

Messy in its execution, and lacking in simplicity, No_One Ever Really Dies isn't nearly as profound as it thinks it is.

QTY is as timeless, compelling and clever as you could hope for first time round.

There are times, however, when the mix doesn’t quite lend Björk’s message enough power. ... For the most part, Utopia sounds like an album where she’s followed her own advice. It demonstrates how the Icelandic alt-pop legend has pushed past her own emotional turmoil, taking yet another step in her ever-evolving saga, one that sets a path for future endeavours.

Blue Lips isn’t perfect; it has a predilection towards being over produced. Thematically, though, her honesty about her imperfections is what makes all so irresistible.

Delicate, enchanting, and altogether intangible, Memory Of A Cut Off Head is a venture into the unexpected.

This record does have its moments, though any instances of real connection are a notable rarity.

The record is a first full effort bustling with ideas, characterised by the dual voices of Sean Armstrong and Jack Mellin. Sean’s voice is a tender, swaying one, while Jack packs more punch, and brings urgent stabs of guitar.

It doesn’t feel any more disciplined or carefully-crafted than the experimental ‘Frost God’ did, but Yung Lean does continue to push the boundaries--which is precisely what brought him to public attention in the first place.

Filled with polyrhythms and squalling synths designed to get people on the dancefloor, it’s sometimes impossible to remain rooted in your seat. The drawback of this focus on the high-energy though, is that it can get a little wearing.

1982 appears slight on first glance, but it’s packed with so many lasting melodies and shifts in tone and dynamics that it winds up being a much richer project than its 38-minute run time may initially suggest.

The sound of an artist creatively re-energised, this is a revelation in all senses of the word.

The Dusk in Us was whittled down to thirteen tracks from eighteen and there remains a little bit of extraneous material, particularly towards the album’s close, and that uneven pacing suggests a touch of rust after so long away--‘All We Love We Leave Behind’ felt more tightly controlled.

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.

Without any real substance to the lyrics, these soft, earnest, mild guitar songs come across like their author has grossly overestimated their depth. The album as a whole sounds like fourteen-year-old boyfriend music.

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.

Permission to sprinkle Big Sounds over their insta-recognisable songwriting might not have been something they’d allow themselves in the past, but here it transforms what could’ve easily been ‘churning out more of the same’ into 21st Century alt-pop bangers.

Glasshouse isn’t exactly groundbreaking. It could also do with being about half its mighty 17-track length.

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

With the world often seeming like a bleakly real episode of Black Mirror these days, Losing--a record that expresses the paralysing feeling of helpless that comes from watching it all unfold--is both timely and cathartic.

That’s definitely not to say that the more languorous tracks don’t have their beautiful moments, with the likes of ‘Lonely Blue’ and ‘Sublunary’ providing an emotional apex to the album. As it draws on though, it gets easier to think that a bit of brutality on the cutting room floor might only have been of benefit to The Ooz.

Colors is Beck at his most exuberant, concocting weird, wonderful dancefloor fillers like a mad disco scientist. Good things come to those who wait.

Much of his recent work remains underrated, but by ‘Monuments…’, he was beginning to sound a little short on ideas; happily, the simplicity of Ogilala seems as if it’s rejuvenated him.

Along with the equally exceptional St Vincent which came before it, this is the moment that St Vincent enters the fabled realm reserved for the greats.

Leaner, more menacing, but still quintessentially Weaves, Wide Open does what it says on the tin, in the best possible way.

I Love You Like My Brother builds all sorts of these clean bridges, and though Alex Lahey’s world springs from small images and clean sentences, it says a lot with very little.

Realisationship might not always come together neatly, but Andrew Hung’s desire to push his own boundaries, whether that’s moving into that lo-fi zone or utilising his vocals, leaves you wondering just where he’ll turn n

Willowbank is utterly charming, shimmering and another step in Yumi Zouma’s quietly fascinating evolution.

If Wolf Parade have spent six years wondering how they can sing about anything at all, it seems as though they’re still wondering. Just this time the quartet turned the mic on as they pondered.

‘You Better Run’, while perfectly adequate, has the aura of ‘pub back room’ to its chugging riffs; it’s fine, but it’s largely filler. In general though, As You Were is almost certainly the best thing Liam’s offered us since he parted ways with his big bro.

Kudos for another reinvention, but the best version of Kele probably sits nearer the middle of the spectrum.

On the likes of ‘Enough,’ the layers of electronica and muffled beats become oddly oppressive, competing against her--and winning the battle. It’s in moments like this where Take Me Apart proves to be frustrating. When it’s at its best though, it’s an album that invites the listener to do just what its title invites.

Jersey Devil comes with a real sense of sharp focus; cleverly worked melodies and handsomely crafted choruses come to the fore, pushing the woozy soundscapes to the back.

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.

Desire’s best moments arrive when there’s a genuine attempt to create a bit of atmosphere--the cool strut of ‘Spotlights’ is a rare bright point. Everything else, though, has been done better elsewhere, and recently, too.

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.

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.

A dystopian, focused pessimism that sounds (unfortunately) exactly like the world outside, but doesn’t sound quite like another band on the planet. A perfect soundtrack to nagging doubts and creeping realisations.

There’s no difficult second album syndrome here. Visions Of A Life is a gorgeously twisted beast that keeps Wolf Alice on the path to being Britain’s best band.