While opener ‘Name For You’ is catchy, and album highlight ‘Rubber Ballz’ is a foot-stomping earworm, Heartworms largely represents a loss of ambition.

Messages from the deepest isolation are most likely to be a SOS or the increasingly deranged words of someone losing touch with their sanity. TFCF somehow manages to be both. Alive with unease. Shorn of every accessory, everything to mask the sharp taste, the familiar duality of Liars is starker than ever.

Agut-wrenching yet joyous journey into the thick of her every feeling, with neither sugar-coating or shame. It’s a walk on a tightrope, balanced precariously between a downward spiralling cascade of thought.

It’s an album about what happens next rather than looking back. They might be a band in thrall to the 1960s but this is a record that tells us to live in the now.

sity. Dayve Hawke has created a record that's as graceful (sorry) as it is mighty.

Fleshed out with a full band, tracks like newest single ‘In Your Car’ sound dramatic, full-bodied, but still in possession of the emotional intricacies that made us enjoy Big Deal in the first place.

Sure, these glossy throwbacks to eighties synth-pop, soul and funk may not be as innovative as anything on Temple’s previous albums, but he does them incredibly well, and it'd be a fool who doesn't give them a go.

The music is complex, but not in a Phillip Glass orchestral kind of way.

It feels darker, somehow, deliciously shadowey.

The lightness of Mvula's touch is shown by the fact that even the most leaden songs here have a moment where they catch fire.

The Orielles succeed in painting a vivid world of colour and flavour to get lost in.

The variety of the record is tied together with a strong story-thread that prides itself on being cohesive.

Mothers have taken their tactics of constant instrumental juxtapositions into another realm, somehow finding a middle ground between the pleasant and the discordant, where Mothers have comfortably found their niche--it’s not always uplifting, but it consistently delivers.

His most experimental release to date.

Cynicism at the door, ‘Doggerel’ is an enjoyable – and exciting – listen.

While the unique sonics and instrumentation of this album are notably brilliant, they at times feel disjointed on a track-to-track basis.

There’s something in the way Sylvan Esso craft their music, weaving folksy melodies and acoustic instruments with synths and 808s, that feels like exactly what pop music should be: punchy and pure.

The issue is that, in conflating deliberation with maturity, ‘Today We’re the Greatest’ ends up feeling a little bit middle-of-the-road.

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.

Blessed with a beautiful, halting falsetto and a way with words, he is a very sad man, and this is a very sad album. It will make you want to lie down in the dark for a while and think about things.

Never sitting still or dwelling on their influences for too long, the third incarnation of Cheatahs in 2015 have harnessed the hyperactivity of their release schedule, channelling it into a collection of tracks that houses some of their strongest moments to date.

John Cale's latest is a visceral, thrilling ride, capable of soundtracking any seedy disco on the outskirts of Nookie Wood.

Overall, ’High Road’ is an overwhelmingly triumphant pop offering that sees Kesha back at her best and having shit tons of fun while doing it.

As If Apart follows the template of his similarly bucolic 2012 solo debut ‘Overgrown Path’, shrouding his loosely constructed songs in a shimmering lo-fi shroud that makes everything sound as if it was recorded on his front porch, which it almost certainly wasn’t.

An intriguing side project that adds to the pair’s already storied careers.

Woman’s Hour have created something truly special in these final throes.

Twenty years on from their debut, ‘The Big Come Up’, it’s a statement of how far they’ve come, as well as an indicator of where they might be heading next.

Trevor Powers has crafted an album full of malice and aggression that it lives up to its title, but it is peppered with themes of hope and optimism.

A record of reflection and connection, it’s one that, at its best, ranks among the more beautiful-sounding you might hear this year

This debut album scraps coherence and convention and prioritises the more vital values of music; making songs that are both accessible and rinsed in invention.

Musing on “perfected harmonies” while unexpected string sections peer into the foreground, we’re witnessing a group confident enough to start afresh while giving forceful nods to their celebrated past.

Although previous work has never shied away from her individual experience, here Laura elevates her lyricism to new heights.

It’s all hips, handclaps and riffs, lots and lots of riffs. It isn’t perfect, but you’d be hard pressed to find a record as fun as Devour You.

Throughout ‘I Hear You’, there’s a clear intention to create something beyond what Peggy Gou is typically renowned for, yet it doesn’t always quite hit.

On her seventh studio album, the Canadian musician spreads her brash and ultra-horny sentiment across another collection of vibrant, high-energy bangers.

Severely damaged, sometimes terrifying, and always enjoyable, it’s his most challenging album yet.

A collection that is perfectly pitched between old and new with nothing too challenging. It hangs together very well for both a casual listen or as a soundtrack to a night out.

The big floor-filling moments are in there, particularly on the gripping one-two of ‘Staring at All This Handle’ and ‘Face to Face with Spoon’, but they feel incongruous in the thick of what is otherwise a woozy comedown of an album that fails to cover a great deal of new ground.

Nick would do better to stick to his signature rippling guitar on the ethereal ‘Infinite Trees’, the quietly sensual ‘Lullaby’, or, best yet, the charming ‘Remembering’, which chugs along with a jolty percussive joy.

‘Bright Magic’ flourishes at its most calm and erupts at its most fervent, lending itself neatly to a state of anxious tension, sonically chronicling the faded walk back from the club, when dawn and dusk blur into irrelevance.

An ambitious project, King Gizzard succeed into enticing you into fully absorbing yourself into their wild, bizarre universe.

This follow-up is more inquisitive and self-exploratory, and just a touch darker - while still building on her signature nostalgic sound.

This record was defined by never being in the same place at once--each song was recorded in a different location--but there’s a glue holding everything together.

The Vaccines still know how to write a direct hit--‘Handsome’, with it’s opening “oh God oh God oh God” panic attack, is still an indie-tastic thrash--but they’ve got other gears too.

As far as Pantha du Prince standards go, those expecting bangers will find that this is a slower paced, subtler, more meticulously detailed album than ‘Black Noise’. Yet for every dark, dreary, wintery moment, there’s more than enough of luxurious, melodic techno bliss to make up for it.

It’s more confident, a little sexier. It also finds the outfit playing mostly the same old tricks as last time, for mixed results.

It's not noise for noise's sake--it's melodic. It's quiet at points, frantic at others. It's dark, it's messy, it's a dank and smelly basement.

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.

Its steady pace and relatively tame nature (by his standards) means it might not be his most immediately striking release, but it’s still testament to his talent as an astute alt-pop songwriter.

This isn’t them superficially cashing in on a new generation’s fascination with ‘indie sleaze’; it’s the sound of songwriting duo Emily Haines and Jimmy Shaw bridging the gap between who they were then and who they are now. Sonically, they do that by leaning into the fundamentals.

This is an offshoot of Waxahatchee that may fail to bring in fans anew, but offers plenty for those wanting a return to Katie Crutchfield’s more acoustic roots.

‘Stay In Touch’ is a hip-shaking highlight, and the one true surprise here, but largely Marauder simply sees Interpol proving their worth once again, and their prowess for creating bleak, blackened indie rock that’s full of feeling.

Both ‘Fountain’ and ‘Sweet Memz’ are solemn, sobering pieces. This delicacy is a little muted at times, lacking the sharp, alluring production of the record’s opening, instead closing out in hushed tones. It feels a little uncertain, as if the group are speculating the next chapter in their artistic output.

The result is a rocket-fuelled silver screen roller coaster.

As an album it’s guilty of being simply too cold and distancing to be able to connect to.

How the listener takes Death Magic defines everything, but once again, even at their most open and exposed HEALTH completely defy definition.

An excellent record that is at points raw but more often joyful, but is also proof of the importance of taking time out.

EL VY could have been many things for Matt Berninger--in the end his first non-National album serves to take him away from firm rooting in gloom to a certain extent, but largely just exhibits him doing everything he does so well, just with a few tweaks and exceptions.

They may have left behind their haunted house roots, which might rub some people off the wrong way, but Chairlift have found themselves creating something far more barmy, bold and exhilarating than ever before.

Pure X have emerged from a dark abyss into beatific splendour.

It's Springsteen, it's 70s soft-rock, it's sun-soaked Californian road trips.

Not just a return to form from a group whose recent catalogue has been somewhat patchy, but a true classic, ‘Saviors’ is Green Day at their musical and thematic best.

Area 52 is hands down the duo's most grandiose, outlandish opus yet.

An incredibly accomplished effort from a band who have truly found their feet.

It’s a record of two halves; the former a collection of evocative vignettes, the latter a vehicle for her impressive vocal. And while the latter does have its moments - closer ‘Weekend’ is the kind of sprawling epic that brings to mind earlier Jessie Ware - it’s in the first half, shorn of any jazzy accompaniment, that ‘Be Right Back’ is truly interesting.

Its lack of slickness and idiosyncrasies are where its charm lies.

There are enough fragments of warped interference to ensure this is a worthy collaboration albeit one which doesn't entirely muscle up to the canon of its individual progenitors.

Newer fans might not be totally impressed here but existing ones yearning for Harris’ observations should be satisfied otherwise.

Embracing her musical kindred spirits, ‘Makes Me Sick…’ isn’t just a rehash of her idols, it’s a natural successor.

Aluna and George balance each other in the perfect see-saw, and Body Music is an absolute playground of pop music.

Blue's watery explorations demonstrate an intriguing new facet to the project, but it might well come at the expense of the fearsome impact that earlier releases packed in the shedload.

Debut ‘Unlearn’ showed promise but Age of Fracture is that promise realised and then some.

While the emotions are big, the choruses are even bigger: ‘the good the bad the olga’ begs for a cathartic moshpit, while ‘pardee urgent care’ is a definitive phone-torches-in-the-air moment.

It's full of wonderfully written lines, often intimate, sincere and grotesque, and sometimes weirdly anglophile.

Celebratory, rich and more confident than ever before, they’re yet again the finest versions of themselves.

Its clarity, confidence, and cohesion set it apart from their debut which had room for improvement on those fronts.

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.

What Clams Casino specialises in and what makes this record a success is his ability to seemingly carve beats from ice, so cold is the production. His signature sounds otherworldly, with the breathy synths and crisp bass a soundtrack to some interstellar gang warfare.

Their debut documented pure, unrelenting struggle. Ullages finds a way out. Mitchell remains a captivating frontman, but he’s an entirely different blend to the one we knew before.

'There's No Leaving Now' in fact resonates like the stark antithesis to Jeffrey Lewis' wry, comical anti-folk. It's dreary as hell.

Streamlined and with every moment as vital as the next yet playful and curious, Heydays manages to craft a new path from a well-travelled landscape.

A transitional work perhaps, but whichever fork in the road he follows next, you feel he’ll continue to adapt.

With one foot in the classic NYC underground scenes that paved the way, ‘Underneath’ is pure bass-led, disco ball-flecked Studio 54, while the dance-punk footprints of ESG are all over ‘Cities’’ irrepressible hook and ‘Compromised’ tips a hat to godmother Debbie Harry. ‘Gentle Grip’ sounds timeless.

Bastille’s choral, digestible power pop DNA is present, but grittier than usual.

If the songwriting on Hitch is, to coin an old music hack turn-of-phrase, ‘mature’, it’s also concise--in a good way.

It’s obvious they’re well-practiced at the craft, conjuring up 35 minutes of their trademark melancholy. It’s also an album of firsts for them - newly added keyboard player Marta Cikojevic adds a vital new layer. This in turn frees up vocalist Jane Penny to add a couple of flute solos on the record, which is a pleasant surprise. In fact, it’s the broadness of flavour on the album that is its main strength.

With its Ramones-via-The Golden State garage punk, it's brilliantly noisy in all the best places ('White On White', 'Wait For The Man') and yet not afraid to tone down on occasion ('Gimme Something').

Although playful in a creative way, this is a serious album.

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.

This record is a playful, daring and capricious listen, and one of the first truly remarkable records of 2012.

At times, Tucson feels life an afterthought, lacking in the kinetic intensity and corrosive experimentalism of earlier releases.

The range of influences on the album ensures this is a rather uneven listen, unhelped by the cast of vocalists.

'Mauve' isn't a bad album. It's competently made, it's mixed pretty well. It's done well. But it's been done before, and better.

While all the elements are there it seems far too eager to drift into not only the background but also into itself, with it turning into musical wallpaper and into one, long indistinguishable track with worrying ease.

This isn’t britpop recooked, reheated or reserved. Be it 1993 or 2013, In Love stands proud.

Last year’s ‘Long Black Cars’ was already leaning in the direction of old school rock ‘n’ roll, but they fully embrace it here, and all the better for it (save for a few songs that could’ve done with less guitar solos, more Larkin-via-Cocker observations).

More power, more fury, more energy--it’s certainly a promising tone to set.

For the majority of tracks, they succeed in their goals. It’s only when looking back at the whole picture, somehow the pieces don’t quite appear to fit.