Umberto has created something which, despite being by its very nature incidental, is incredibly enveloping.

Orla Gartland’s debut is an intricate, carefully-constructed collection, blending together indie-pop, folk and alternative rock. She masterfully layers sounds so not even a hand-clap feels out of place and even empty space is used well.

Across twelve polished tracks, Jade switches from piano ballad to stomping singalong and back again, full of bold choruses and raw, ricocheting vocals.

Depth is assured by some strong variations to the established formula.

Asking familiar questions in downright bizarre ways, with a musical palette that continues to revel in awkwardness, slipperiness, and experimentation, Cate Le Bon is a dab hand at holding a warped mirror up to life, and reflecting things in unexpected ways by now.

The apex of which Moon Duo head towards on The Shadow of the Sun isn’t reached and seemingly it burns out before entering a new atmosphere

For the most part it works--a few repeated listens and the melodies and hooks bury themselves in the brain. But on tracks like ‘Car’ and ‘Be Apart’, Maine’s determination to retain that sense of despair can overshadow everything and cause some slight desensitivity.

'MTMTMK' may not quite carry the same dazzling shock of hearing something truly different in the way their debut did but it is certainly an album that carries on the spirit of the debut while progressing their sound at the same time.

[A] sumptuous five track EP that's as melodious as its predecessor but, semi-sadly, not as memorable, not quite as fulfilling, nor as enriching.

For all of Before We Forgot How To Dream’s subtle touches of production, it’s Soak herself who stands out the most.

But for all the moments that tend towards fun-but-silly ‘70s musical theatre, there are plenty that, in isolation, ring with the kind of sepia-soaked sweetness that most genuinely don’t make anymore. The Lemon Twigs might not always take themselves seriously, but you’d be remiss to dismiss them as a joke.

Intersections can, at times, feel a little blinkered and mopey.

What we have is quite ironically, a record lacking both direction and colour.

Miley's seventh era seems to be the one that suits her best, her huge vocals and penchant for penning irresistible melodies lending themselves with ease to big growling rock-leaning anthems.

Reaching further and further afield from their early experimental niche sound, Pulled Apart By Horses are now more accessible than ever.

Future Present Past more than proves The Strokes are as important a band in 2016 as they’ve ever been.

This occasional, kind of ironic lack of restraint makes some of the blackened themes of Choir of the Mind even more oddly oppressive, even if Emily’s melodies are often spacious and airy. When it gets its balance perfectly poised though, it’s an album that can be engaging and emotionally-charged.

‘Into The Blue’ comes across like the pair swapping mixtapes; a little ‘60s psych here, some ‘70s soul there, with a smidge of ‘80s R&B between. ... In lesser hands, this may have presented a mish-mash of confused homage, but here, it’s just a pleasant, nostalgic listen.

Sounds layered upon sounds; the intricacies here may hint towards Mosquito being more of a grower than its older siblings, but it proves that Yeah Yeah Yeahs are a band to cherish.

Paying homage to songwriting ancestors, there’s an unmistakable Americana twist across much of the record that on occasion even turns to Nashville-tinged country. Yet Bought To Rot is pulled together by consistently bestowing valuable life lessons.

There’s a slight dipping point of ‘Away We Go’ and ‘Iron Fist’, and this album doesn’t stand up quite as well as either of the ‘Good Apollo, I’m Burning Star’ epics, but nonetheless this is a thoroughly thrilling entry in to Coheed and Cambria’s rich canon.

The results range from dazzling to disastrous.

A record that needs its fat well and truly trimming.

On the album’s most transcendental moments, its slow pace tires like the midsection of a dissertation, but nonetheless its beauty and melancholia is infectious.

‘Peaches!’ feels like a welcome return home for The Black Keys, a recapturing of sorts of their early energy.

Each and every track has its own identity that perfectly mixes the familiar with the unfamiliar, which is simply a continuation of what The Notwist have always been best at.

‘Friday Forever’ is a solid record with an intriguing concept that unravels fantastically under Russell’s loosened leash.

Courting The Squall touches and recaps on the ideas which Guy Garvey masters in his romanticisms and balladry, but gloriously glimpses his experimental and playful side.

There are nods to The Velvet Underground’s knack for dreamy simplicity (‘Blind’), and times when Viscius peeks into Vivian Girls-adjacent, more garage territory (‘Take That Back’). For the most part, however, ‘Everything’ operates from within the particular fog of grief: fragile, tactile, tender. It’s a frequently gorgeous thing.

At over an hour long, it’s a collection which could do with a slightly more ruthless approach in the cutting room but that’s a minor nit-pick when the material is this strong.

The streets of home are always going to stir emotions but rarely does that cocktail of of loneliness and belonging get articulated with the gut-felt precision that Prinzhorn Dance School manage on their third record.

This is a gorgeous album of soundscapes that are able to stand up alone.

‘Fear of The Dawn’ is very much like the kind of party where you’re hoping daylight stays away for some time yet.

True North, with its concise (only one song breaks the three minute barrier) bursts of dissatisfaction and alienation, includes some of the strongest, most focused material that the band have recorded in many years.

There’s a sense of comfort running throughout that does result in repeated motifs, fancy tricks that have either appeared on previous LPs or within the same eight songs.

Evans The Death's debut album is full of promise in bitesize two-minute chunks, and we can expect to see more from them in the future.

The lo-fi pop is still there, it’s just more precise and glossier.

It’s not trance, it’s not electro, it’s not quite orchestral--it’s not quite anything. They are a band with good ideas but unsteady appeal.

La Luz play with an enchanting sensitivity. If only their raw knack for rhythm and harmony were left untouched by unnecessarily glossy production.

While not a record that’s likely to raise their star, Stuffed & Ready is one that shows a band resolutely ploughing their own furrow without compromise.

It’s clear from the album that Tate McRae’s arsenal of jagged pop weapons is extensive, and can be expertly wielded when she wants.

Across its 11 tracks, ‘Raving Ghost’ finds impressive variety and fun: less a haunted relic of the past, and more a Halloweeny romp through it.

Where the distinctly Strokes-y melancholy of ‘Dead Air’, or the darker stalk of the Matt Helders-featuring ‘Thoughtful Distress’ succeed, others (‘Home Again’, ‘Old Man’) are throwaway jangles that feel like AHJ-by-numbers.

While there may be signs of holding back, ‘People Who Aren’t There Anymore’ still carries more than its fair share of upbeat anthems. This album isn’t much different, but why the band would ever change is a question that doesn’t need asking.

As insatiably catchy as it is disarming, the album marries its two sides perfectly.

A real insight into Nicky Palermo’s mind, ‘A Short History of Decay’ is one of Nothing’s most inward-looking releases to date.

Khan's state of the world message might be slightly obscured, but there's an obvious feeling of hope and refreshing lack of restraint on this hugely enjoyable return.

Whilst there are a couple of noteworthy exceptions there is simply too much here that simply slips into background music fodder.

‘Real Power’ sits around the mid-tempo rather than going hell for leather as they may have done in younger years. Far from a slip into the middle of the road however, they find new ways to make it interesting.

Deleter successfully blurs boundaries between time and space while gifting the listener with the unexpected opportunity for a total sonic catharsis.

London Grammar have created an album of graceful sophistication.

Though it may come across as an innocuous affair to some, Lucid Dreaming simultaneously triumphs as both a cohesive, introspective body of work and a bona fide pop record.

By the time we reach ‘Swept To The Sky’, his transformation from indie-pop upstart to artistic troubadour is complete.

Arlo emerges with a newfound directness, finding a sound and voice that fully represents the multifaceted complexities of the world outside the bedroom.

Requiem is the furthest Goat have ventured in expansiveness and length. Despite that, Requium is their most accessible moment to date.

With sticky melodies and a spring in its step, ‘Medicine At Midnight’ is an experiment that pays off, simultaneously adding a new shade to their sound and injecting a dose of fun and escapism when we need it most.

Deap Vally were always turned to eleven, Femejism has them reaching for twelve.

Over four songs and just twelve minutes, it packs enough punch to inspire air guitar, desk drumming, shower singing and wanting to start a band just so you can try and shred like these three. Truly fantastic.

This time, the fiery furnace powering their new record comes from slashing open every membrane; letting ideas wildly collide like supercharged, excitable atoms. Brushstrokes and processes are all over this record.

Aalthough Great Big Flamingo Burning Moon is perhaps done little favours by its February release date; woozy summer drives are when it’ll really find its feet.

Not The Actual Events serves as an excellent primer for what is to come. But more importantly, and more pressingly, it asks more questions and takes more risks than any welcome back should. It’s not a postcard of a legendary past, its a battlecry for something truly epic to come.

While Savage remains the same bleary-eyed and soft-hearted crooner he always has been, Bermuda Waterfall feels far more widescreen than anything he’s done before.

They channel the essence of previous decades. Throughout, the band use a variety of vintage synth tones and guitar and basslines that even Nile Rodgers would kill for.

More so than some of his other recent material, the record has a sense of drama and occasion to it, as well as being the most musically seamless album he’s made in nearly twenty years, since 2004’s ‘A Grand Don’t Come for Free’.

‘Into The Blue’ largely finds itself coasting on one level. The standouts are the songs that break out of the formula.

The musical accompaniment to the installation works perfectly as a concept album, where heady instrumentals and psychedelic pop nuggets are intertwined with swelling strings and a nursery rhyme story narrated by The Clash’s Mick Jones.

So Versions, the answer to the question of what happened when Zola Jesus met JG Thirlwell with orchestral intentions, is a success.

Whilst Teeth Dreams isn't a bad album, it feels pedestrian and ordinary compared to what The Hold Steady are capable of.

In a contemporary pop age of increasingly tired homogeneity, AlunaGeorge are a very welcome breath of fresh air.

Sometimes the record feels a little samey--‘Better Things’ is ironically the worst thing on there, not bringing much to the four-legged furniture--but there’s enough variety to keep the record afloat.

It’s been four years since the band’s previous album ‘Rispah’. That period of self-reflection and resulting new energy is presented beautifully here, and despite the mantra of patience, is delivered with a sense of immediacy.

At times, their ambition really clicks into place (the euphoric bounce of ‘Smoking Weed Alone’, for example), but at others, it feels a bit muddled. Their ambition is undoubtedly to be applauded, but this one’s a bit of a mixed bag.

Get taken away by the current, and float inside every melody. It’s more intoxicating than even the most lucrative bar deal on Jägerbombs.

The Shape Of Things is another compelling collection of clever electronic pop.

It's a patchy but rich tapestry of sounds whose strange shape bewitches you.

Amateurish, but defiantly unperturbed, this is a grave and momentous listen.

From start to finish, Vultures is a relentless storm of roaring rock royalty.

When they get past their demons, Half Moon Run sit somewhere between accomplished musicians and potential game-changers. Too often they settle into a default mode, rarely hitting the melodic highs of ‘It Works Itself Out’ or the enraged bruiser ‘Consider Yourself’.

It may not have the depth of some of their counterparts, but it easily makes up for it with refreshing, confident fun.

In digging back through music history’s treasure trove, Childhood have forged ahead into genuinely exciting new ground. They might have broken through with a bunch of other bands, but now Childhood don’t need anyone but themselves.

It's further proof that Orbital aren't content to stand still and rest on the laurels that have made them ones to watch at festivals. 'Wonky' as an album is sexy, smart, and filled with all the potential to smash the competition.

Even if at times the album can be quite esoteric despite its pop veneer, there is a purity of expression that is addictive.

They’ve managed to balance brutality with a controlled ambience that takes nothing away from their distinctive character.

Pursuit of Momentary Happiness manages to harness even more of the band’s unpredictable live energy while careering between boggle-eyed riffy bangers and booze-sodden self-reflection in truly inimitable fashion.

It’s a record bound in frustration and release, exacerbated by the band’s continuing reliance on repetition, and as it comes to roost with the tense ‘Bite Mark’ and its tumbling conclusion TRAAMS’ return shows itself to be one that’s all the better for its slow build.

Surfing Strange has the band gliding over waves at record height, with barely a single hiccup.

It all has a vintage feel to it, too, with hints of Faces’ guitar strumming styles, but that’s combined with a more modern approach; here, Wolfhard could be a cousin of Alex G or MJ Lenderman, but with the energy of UK band C Turtle.

If there was a sense that Natasha had perhaps lost her way slightly on the conceptual likes of ‘The Bride’ and ‘Lost Girls’, she finds her feet again magnificently here, with simplicity key; the lyrics, the melodies, the gorgeous intertwining of piano and synth.

She’s not quite there yet, but after a wobble that could have sunk lesser personalities, she’s found a sound that feels authentic again. And that’ll do for now.

The beats may occasionally be interchangeable, but several cuts stand out, such as the minimal speaker-blower ‘SKED’ and the menacing ‘Hit The Floor’. Each track features a guest spot, which helps provide their sometimes homogenous nature with personality.

Mouse On Mars are returning in triumphant and rapturous fashion, both sealing their reputation as relentless innovators while basking in the glory as beacons of inspiration.

Sees The Light is a decent solo effort, but for the casual observer it might be worth saving your currency for the next Vivian Girls record.

This isn’t necessarily an album that contains multitudes, but therein lies its pure escapist charm.

While he proves in spades that he’s not merely a throwback artist who has to rely on nostalgia, the mishmash of sounds coming from the album does feel a little muddled at times.

It would be difficult for any band to return with new music after 35 years of absence but with Citizen Zombie the always challenging Pop Group have succeeded in returning with something vibrant, urgent and necessary.

More than anything though this is a record which feels warmed by summer sun, reminiscent of misty sunsets to blistering mid-mornings it listens like an album made by a band from California rather than New York.

An album that’s unlikely to make too much of a dent on the band’s epic career this far, ‘Your Favourite Toy’ is a lot of fun all the same.

They've crafted an album that's endearing and inspiring, even if its genesis was the complete contrary.