The result is a tight, neat little package of postcard pop, as radio-friendly as ever, embossed with Field Music's auteur sound.

Pure Bathing Culture have created an ambient watercolour wash, but leave you fruitlessly longing for a brave splash of boldness across the canvas.

A record that feels cathartic but never ruthless, freeing but still subtle.

Any sense of experimentation and freedom is impossible to find. Are Dinosaur Jr trying too hard to be Dinosaur Jr? It's the way it seems.

It’s nothing short of pure, menacing excitement.

The band has honourable aims with its vocal intent and concept, but fails to inspire with its content, nor deliver on its promises.

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.

We’re not asking Whitney to soundtrack a raging rebellion, we just want them to make us feel things. Forever Turned Around only partly succeeds.

Although Upside Down Mountain could do with a little more lyrical variety and structural experimentation, it is strong.

‘EXPO’ is not quite Charlie Brooker in song, but it’s not too far off. Fully immersive but a little disquieting.

Come the curtain call closer of ‘Push’, it’s evident to see Love Yes serves as the most iridescent article of TEEN’s discography--a crowning jewel that’s wildly flamboyant on first impression yet deeply personal upon closer inspection.

A genius--and yes, perhaps a little bit crazy--with an attention to detail like no other, no matter what might slip from his grasp ($53 million for one, if recent statements are to be believed), Kanye West is in full control of every atom of The Life Of Pablo.

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

Doing it with a little help from his friends, he's easily landed on his best album yet, out of any guise taken on in the last 10 years.

The whole thing would have sufficed as a bonus disc rather than the standalone album it is.

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

[The album] is essentially a standard Mark Lanegan Band release.

While it might lack some of the emotional resonance that the absolute best of their peers can achieve SYB should be commended for getting the pain parts of the deceptively tricky pop-rock jigsaw together with some aplomb.

At once escapist and heavily personal, it’s a dark, pop-perfect, melancholic fantasy.

An often whimsical, occasionally scattershot yet wryly self-aware collection of songs which run a musical gamut from Lana Del Rey’s Old Hollywood-channelling balladry to grunge pop – or more succinctly, much like a late noughties Tumblr given the same name.

They have crafted a new geography of their own, pulling together all of their strengths and vulnerabilities.

It’s dark, atmospheric and shoegazey--and as a sonic canvas it works well. But several of the songs struggle to say anything that’s not already been said elsewhere on the album.

The vocals are rather Thurston, too, like a chain-smoking Scrappy Doo, and structurally each song on The Best Day follows a specifically Thurstony pattern; all shimmery build-ups and thrashing bar chords, and deadpan vocals thudding solemnly along the top of it all.

‘Migration Stories’, might be his most impressionistic yet, a collection that began life as eleven woozy instrumentals that came together during sessions in Québec with two members of Arcade Fire, Tim Kingsbury and Richard Reed Parry.

If you’re partial to a bit of blue-collar punk, this is likely to be right up your street.

Hey, I’m Just Like You is a record underpinned by raw emotion, melancholy, and a quiet but clear sense of hope, making for one of the group’s most vital efforts yet.

With their sixth studio album they bolster an already impressive catalogue with intricate explorations of the self in an ever-shifting world, accepting the inevitability of change and offering the solace of a shared community to an always-growing fan base.

For an artist usually so meticulous with her vision, that these are able to sound so airy, almost frivolous - and, indeed, they were recorded back in 2020 as more of a exercise than intended for release - makes this curio of an EP all the more engaging.

For all its instant appeal, this is for the most part an album that eschews pop convention. After years of being synonymous with the prefix ‘ft.’ Charli XCX has found her voice.

Their most mature and concise work to date.

Xiu Xiu have recorded a 12th album that is an interesting listen, but rarely an easy one. It’s unlikely to win them any new followers, but existing fans won’t be disappointed.

High as Hope is an album that takes solace in those closest to her, works to right previous wrongs, and sees her come out the other side a whole lot stronger.

The inevitable result is a crisper, more polished sound.

Its title track, 'The Capitol' and 'Fenix' are all pleasant enough but lack any real dynamic and verge on the point of becoming fillers. Those are only minor niggles for an accomplished album though.

Often on 'Awe Naturale', the songs are suddenly cut off before they get into their stride and leave you wanting more of their soulful jams with a rap twist. Regardless, this is a largely enjoyable debut from this versatile duo.

The only thing lacking is a greater presence of the crowd on the record that seems to be have mixed down, but it is the audible ecstasy of audience participation that truly makes a live album, though here the delicate simplicity and precise execution of the music more than makes up for it.

For all of the frontman's dynamism, he can't save a frustratingly slow, out-of-date computer.

At no point of this record are you left hoping for another Editors anthem or new Slowdive music--yes that would be wonderful, but we now have Minor Victories to savour. Hopefully they’re here to stay.

Though there’s a clear outlook and lots to like, there’s a certain ‘leather trenchcoat on Camden High Street’ vibe to The Wants when you sense they were aiming for something a little more forward-thinking.

Notably, the record is without the pair’s usual darkness, but ‘Host’ feels organic and true, like the first day of spring after a winter full of rain.

Although accomplished in its tone, ‘I Won’t Care How You Remember Me’ longs for dynamic crescendos to differentiate the album’s eleven tracks, no matter how pleasant they may be.

There’s a warm domesticity to many of these tracks that’s smaller and softer than the apocalyptic balladry that first made his name; these are vignettes plucked from a Richard Curtis movie - romantic and relatable, with all the humorous foibles left in.

Yes, ‘Club Romantech’ is fun, albeit superficially - supercharged by pulsating house that would perhaps be irresistible only under very specific, very inebriated conditions in 2012.

86TVs are clearly cut from the same cloth as The Maccabees, but a newfound succinctness and dynamism make for a forward-facing project.

‘Sunshine Song’ and its repetitive refrain is just too sugary sweet, even with the whack of distortion added towards its close - but on the whole, ‘The Prize’ is a warm exploration of life’s intimacies that places female friendship at the centre of this pair’s universe.

A solid first LP that aims for dive bars and festival fields alike.

The experimentation is there, yes, but this sees Nova Twins pushing themselves even further, incorporating even more, and doing anything to see what will fit. While the record’s highlights - ‘Soprano’, ‘Glory’, ‘Sandman’, and ‘Hummingbird’ - are attention-grabbing shooting stars, some songs here feel less dynamic.

Not perfect, then, but further evidence that their upwards climb remains a steady one.

The last couple of Dinosaur Jr. records in particular have been praised from all angles for their consistency, but J Mascis is continuing to fire out hidden gems under his own name, too.

Individually these would be two good albums. But as a complimentary pair they become much more.

The arrangements here are certainly accomplished, but it's still that voice which makes the whole thing glow.

Like Syd Barrett or, more recently, Euros Childs before him, White Fence continues to make the peripheries seem oddly accessible.

Everything they touch holding a vintage sheen of some kind, but it’s such a broad and masterful selection that there’s no sense of pastiche. The lyrics across the record let it down - they match the random patchwork of the sound, but take a step too far in the direction of gibberish for the most part.

‘Actually…’ delivers a fairground of gleeful unpredictability populated by usual Deerhoof tropes: elliptical song titles, a whole gamut of biblical references, and disjointed rhythms that prance majestically between tempos and motifs.

For all his wayfaring tendencies, it’s refreshing to hear an album from Mattson that feels as though he’s found solace in something or someone, and the richer instrumentation never compromises the album’s overall sense of intimacy.

A record that pushes each of its contributors to stamp their own mark, uniting them under the banner of heartbreak but leaving room for each vocalist to twist the blueprint to their own shape.

In her journey to rediscover her own strength Banoffee has created a remarkable pop opus unquestionably destined to empower the marginalised.

It’s a largely hit-and-miss pop record.

It’s a perfectly pleasant ride to go along with him on, too, and given that ‘Turn Blue’ sounded a tired effort pretty much from the get go, this return to his roots will hopefully bode well for the band when they eventually reconvene.

Insouciant, effortless cool; shimmering, effervescent melodies that cut through the street-smart danger; the ability to sound vitally alive whilst simultaneously not giving a fuck: all the traits that underpin the band’s best songs are present and correct, from ‘Dancing With Myself’-aping recent single ‘Bad Decisions’, to the twinkling, yearning ‘Selfless’.

Ultimately, it is very, very hard to dislike Hour Of The Dawn.

One blast of The Physical World and BANG, the doubt is gone.

The Hold Steady are very much a band for their existing fans. There’s not anything here, whether the bar-room blues of ‘Blackout Sam’ or the jazz hands-aloft ’T-Shirt Tux’ that’s likely to win outsiders over.

Like punk Doogie Howsers, MOURN use intellect and talent beyond their years to muscle their way in amongst the grown-ups and blow them all out of the water.

It’s got moments of music that sound like life. And when the songwriting is interesting and the melodies evocative, what you need is something to keep up what they’ve built.

It’s the same melodies and patterns as the group have long favoured, but even the potentially cringeworthy ‘Screens’ (a song about, of course, how we’re all glued to them) barely raises a shrug when surrounded by such luscious, bombastic sounds. By focusing on minutiae, too, what is ostensibly a lockdown album (hello, reference to Zoom interviews) avoids cliche.

Spend any element of time with it and each passing play opens the album up, showing it off as the special, if often-understated record that it is.

A sense of an increasingly assured outfit emerges, shifting tempo with offbeat irregularity, their earlier inclination towards indie-leaning jangle-pop falling by the wayside, substituted with a definition that sets the band on an ever more consistent path.

This is an album's cutting room floor yet each song still retains Hutchison's instantly recognisable Scottish drawl, infectious hooks and intelligent lyrics.

Sometimes gloriously messy, sometimes just simply glorious, it is probably the most fun you'll have all year rhyming with harpists.

Because ‘You’ll Pay’, ‘Read Em And Weep’, ‘Only Love’, ‘Fever Tree’ (a charming cover of William Bell’s ‘I Forgot To Be Your Lover’), and ‘Don’t Let Me Go’ are all peppered with a shimmering strut, and the kind of euphoria that’s surely only a well-filmed choreo sequence away from the kind of virality enjoyed by Jungle of late. And this is a lane that fits The Black Keys like a glove.

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.

The weight of the album and the somber nature of its subjects can nearly get too much at times. Yet it’s the lightness and dexterity in Nadine’s voice and songwriting that means she has created an album of stories that will warm you and keep you company.

Masters of their craft, this grand exploration could probably go with some cutting down and honing exercised, but these are fresh faces heading out into the great unknown.

Featuring minimal hooks, guttural yelps and harrowing production, Government Plates sounds like nothing else this year--so in other words, it sounds a whole lot like Death Grips.

There’s a gorgeous familiarity to the record, but it’s also one peppered with adventure.

‘Social Cues’ is a study in US radio - or so it seems, each song a suitable soundtrack to faceless car journeys along nondescript roads: think Imagine Dragons in leather jackets and ripped jeans, if you will.

With overwhelming confidence the Brooklyn-based trio present 11 songs of unerring quality and an almost uncountable numbers of flicks and tricks.

There’s a lack of ostentation from start to finish. The sound is uncluttered but never lacking in clout.

RY X is a talented guy with a singular vision, but Unfurl's title is misleading--it’s a little too tentative to have fully done so.

FROOT finds her at her most accomplished and intriguing.

This debut album is very much the culmination of Faker's disparate influences, showcasing his broken, downtempo soul at its finest.

Love or loathe their destructive attitude towards convention, Coming Apart is an exciting, if extremely strange album.

Whatever the hell Bo Ningen are doing, and somehow it feels almost so natural it’s instinctive or involuntary to them, they’re doing it very, very, well.

Those seeking another Interpol record won’t have much luck here, but ‘Muzz’ stands confident on its own two feet.

GEM is nothing short of spellbinding.

Trim the fat and you’d wind up with a special record, but with those bizarre moments gone, The 1975 would also lose some of their bombastic charm.

As a body of work, it sounds eerie and complex while still remaining delicate and cohesive and it’s a bold and well-rounded debut.

The positives are overshadowed by petulant observations to politics which is hard to take seriously when dire lyrics like "Yabba dabba do one, Son."

While not all-out riotous slacker-pop, he incorporates particles of honky-tonk rock, wry witticism in an admittedly more muted and seasoned, but still measured, present-day evolution of King Tuff.

Here, she explores the hardships that queer relationships face and the intricate balance between friendships and romance in her own way, exploring love through a tentative, poignantly relatable lens.

The result is that it all, somehow, sounds bizarrely natural. Landing in the unique middle ground between the ’70s warmth of Todd Rundgren (who lends guest vocals as Shane’s dad, of course) and Little Shop Of Horrors, Go To School is a genuine original.

ures might underplay institutional factors, Local Natives deliver these ideas knowingly. The beauty of Sunlit Youth is in its optimism rather than its pragmatism--a record that cements their status as one of our most special proponents of emotionally-charged guitar music.

The record is not quite so relentless that it needs a pause, and at points feels as if it should move up a pace, decibel or pitch instead of the opposite way.

This latest effort is not without its merits but is fundamentally too long, whilst its interludes are a cheap, unnecessary annoyance.

Just when you're close to giving up [on A Wasteland Companion] we get to 'The First Time I Ran Away' and the album suddenly and brilliantly clicks, starts getting everything right.

If you enjoy music that’s fun and rousing and are curious about other musical traditions--even if they are all jumbled up together--then Pura Vida Conspiracy makes for a joyful, life-affirming experience.

‘Hyacinth’ shows Spinning Coin are OK with dipping their toes in the water of something new, but will leave you wishing they would just jump in.