As on her previous albums, what makes Eleanor’s songwriting feel magical are the stories she tells and the tiny details she drops in.

From start to finish, Julia has created a world entirely of her own - one which revels in representing her with unflinching honesty using a delicately-woven soundscape. Hers is a world where solace and solidarity are steeped into every brick.

‘Immunity’ was a shoulder to cry on, a promise that it will all be okay, eventually. ‘Sling’ feels like that “eventually” coming true.

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.

Gone is some of the clinical coldness of their early work; instead, there’s a warm, embracing quality to their fully formed, imaginary universe where vulnerability and hope collide.

‘songs’ feels like unearthing an old puzzle a piece at a time. ‘instrumentals’, while texturally the same, focuses on pure ambience – the unspecific title is far more deserving. If anything, this feels more like a companion piece, a window into that cabin rather than its own separate record. If you wish you had been there, this is the best way to feel like you were.

‘Suddenly’ is a treat and continues Caribou's knack of releasing albums that are both accessible and explorative.

More than three decades on from the day the pair first met in an electronics shop on the King's Road the Pet Shop Boys still manage to pack more ideas in an album than many others do in a thirty year career.

It’s when they come together on closer ‘Ketchum, ID’, an ode to the state of Idaho and the detachment of constant touring, that boygenius really comes into its own and sees the project become more than the sum of its parts.

Full of heart and full of ideas, it’s big, clever and brilliantly odd.

Returns to the Max Martin collaborative bangers that first turned the world onto Robyn. That pop brilliance runs through ‘Dopamine’, the driving beat of ‘Talk To Me’, and the rousing chorus of ‘Into The Sun’.

‘Double Infinity’ is a gloriously satisfying record on which it feels like everything is in its right place; an album that on some songs features up to twelve players, but feels consistently intimate and laid-back.

With its high concepts and bold instrumentals the album feels a little heavy at times, but you really can’t fault its ambition.

It’s an honest and visceral look into more painful moments that come with processing past pain.

A witty, succinct debut album.

‘CrazyMad, For Me’ is a triumphant whirlwind of pain and self-preservation, which reveals more of itself with every listen.

It’s simultaneously euphoric and angsty.

This one does find itself running out of steam a little towards its conclusion without enough robust new ideas. For the most part, though, this bold experiment pays off, and Fucked Up can be admired for their ambition as much as they can for their enviable productivity.

It was already clear from his near-decade of huge DJ sets around the world, but this album cements Daniel Avery as one of the best.

By the album’s end - thanks, in part, to the droning noise and scuffed beats on closer ‘Dream Dollar’ - there’s a definite sense of the walls closing in. Here the distance Kim Gordon has forged, both across the album and throughout her career, is falling away - and the gap between music and art seems smaller 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.

A unique record that puts a contemporary spin on an era that modern music forgot.

It serves us like a well-bound photo album which we can flick through and see snapshots of the band at certain moments in their short, yet successful, life so far.

This is a collection of tracks that see the potent, unafraid icon that is Carter return to the forefront of British punk and he’s using it as an opportunity to really say something.

This is an album which very much belongs in 2016, and an expectedly assured debut from a band who are by no means redefining the sound of New York City rock ‘n’ roll, but are laying claim to being worthy flag bearers of it going forward.

Packed full of genius--with a few dips that promised more--for the most part, this does play a little like a Greatest Hits. An impressive achievement from such a new band.

A record that’s an unapologetic, brilliant melting pot like little else.

Beneath the slightly grating kookiness, FEET's songwriting is genuinely exciting.

For the most part, ‘Death of the Party’ shows a band actively pushing themselves to grow. They might not be the same happy chappies as before, but not even The Magic Gang can stay young forever.

‘Flora Fauna’ is the sound of a measured spreading of Billie Marten’s wings - of careful progress. She’s still really young: there’s more to come.

‘Life’s A Beach’’s lasting impact is its confrontation of depression and self-doubt: this is a record that will make you feel deeply as well as provide a soundtrack for your first post-lockdown festival.

In a world where musicians can feel pressured to release albums year after year, Maisie took her time with this one, resulting in an album that could well be timeless.

An impressive first outing, Spencer.’s skills as a producer and songwriter have never been more evident. Period.

As he says on opener ‘Good Morning’, Matt is here to help “you push your demons away”. And 13 beautifully-constructed ballads might just be the ticket.

It captures a band confident in their own identity, holding it as a badge of honour instead of something to be hidden.

These songs will inevitably end up stuck in their heads. In short, it’s bloody lovely.

‘Alpha Zulu’ is a fun record, on which the creators’ own enjoyment is audibly palpable.

‘Endure’ marks Special Interest’s debut for Rough Trade and manages to plant a foot in both worlds - the resolutely uncompromising punks of old, and a band capable of infiltrating at least the more alternative end of the radio - with gusto.

Ben Gregory has made a record quite mind-boggling in its scope and scale. Written following a stint in a psychiatric hospital, the explosion of ideas present across these eight tracks tally with an overactive brain trying to put itself back together - in the space of the seven-minute ‘deathbed hangover’ alone, moments of beauty and brutality jostle for space.

Like one imagines a night out curated by the Scissor Sister himself, cues shift from pure pop disco to ‘80s maximalism (the almost-instrumental ‘8 Ball’ makes like an extended 12” remix).

‘Bunny’, for the most part, justifies why Healey’s little black book is quite so heaving.

Perhaps best of all is how direct the whole thing is, typified by ‘Glass Eye’, on which the outfit’s uncompromising sound brings sonic clarity while sporadic backing vocals offer classic ‘90s boyband echoes. A solid record.

While none of the tracks outstay their welcome, there’s a paradoxical problem in that the constant catalogue of textures begins to feel retrodden.

[‘Everything and Nothing’] feels like the perfect, emotive closer for a band who’ve come a long way to get here, but have made easily their best album yet by simply being themselves.

The literary heft of the record leaves slim pickings for pure listening. The familiarity of the vocal line on ‘He’ provides a satisfactory hook, ‘She’ is dreamy and melancholy, while ‘In The Green Chapel’ combines Hayden’s still-unmistakeable vocal with a softly-plucked guitar line that bears similarity to New Order’s ‘True Faith’.

Admittedly, there’s not much in the way of dynamic surprises here - save for the acoustic-led closer ‘Pharmacy’, perhaps - but for a debut album, it’s a distilled demonstration of their talents thus far.

It is a fabulously undisciplined affair, one that nods to everybody from Stereolab to King Gizzard. Accordingly, it sometimes lacks the urgency of the Mandrake live show, and the conceptual side of the record seems pretty opaque, but there are enough vibrant musical realms to get lost in here.

In all, ‘Loner’ is a worthy follow-up to his debut that’s suited to soundtrack dancefloors to come - and more crucially, other places too.

‘Futique’ is a bold album that - much like its overarching concept of ‘future antique’ - filters through Biffy’s past, all with the aim of protecting their future.

‘Juniper’ is an album that reflects growth, is a testament to Joy’s inner strength, and one which places her lyrical prowess centre stage.

There’s a skill in using tropes without falling into cliche, and across ‘Sanguivore II…’ Creeper seem to have mastered it. Over the top guitar solos, metallic breakdowns and final-third key changes; it’s a record that if isn’t quite tongue-in-cheek (and one wonders if the “some nights are as cold as ice…” line in ‘MISTRESS OF DEATH’ is indeed that) is tongue-cheek adjacent, the band’s commitment to the bit enviable.

If ‘The Parlour’ is anything to go by, Picture Parlour’s eventual breakthrough into the mainstream feels inevitable.

As a collection, ‘GOLDSTAR’ is the type of first impression that may well leave one slightly lost, a little confused, and with their head certainly spinning, but after it all anyone who meets them will be damn happy they did.

An intimate but confident record that reveals more of its magic with every listen.

An album packed with heart and creativity, still committed and connected to their roots, here, they continue to prove their stake as pioneers of hardcore’s evolution, and it’s truly thrilling to witness.

Naturally, one would not expect a band whose breakthrough consisted of a list of physical activities spouted over rumbling post-punk to view ‘switching things up’ in an academic way, but the – whisper it – whimsy that runs through ‘viagr aboys’ is plenty to widen audiences’ expectations of the group.

A record that perfectly proves how much strength is in vulnerability, it’s undeniably Hayley’s most powerful move yet.

As perhaps one of the most refreshing voices in indie folk, ‘Seed Of A Seed’ sees Haley Heynderickx harnessing a uniquely spellbinding and sensitive power.

There’s just enough on ‘Everything…’ to ingratiate fans both new and old.

It’s clear that ‘Headlights’ is Alex G’s most streamlined body of work yet – the culmination of fifteen years of exploration, refined.

‘COSPLAY’ lands as simultaneously their broadest and best album to date - unpredictable, unnerving and all-encompassing.

Geese manage to add interesting new wrinkles to their sound, suggesting that, in time, the post-punk rulebook could yet be ripped up all over again.

Need to Feel Your Love is an album that not only shreds, but feels prescient, too.

Unusual yet distinctive, Aviary may alienate some but you can’t fault the depth of Julia’s grand vision for her work.

In a world of diminishing attention spans, he keeps it moving - most tracks don’t linger longer than 3 minutes, giving the whole thing an inherently vital quality, a record you can let wash over you just as well as getting the party lit.

‘Lament’ packs a truly heavy punch. There’s a crispness to the production that highlights every drum beat and crashing riff, providing the backdrop to Jeremy’s introspective lyrics.

An enticing way to stay true to their roots, while approaching things in a fresh manner, their fourth record might still play to their self-deprecating strengths, but it also proves that they’re secretly ambitious too.

This third outing is so impeccably paced, with its twists and turns and frequent 180-degree sonic shifts, that it somehow makes the outfit’s already fiery flame burn yet brighter.

In ‘Harry’s House’ lives a songwriter confident enough in both to start playing with convention.

You wonder whether this might have been the record to elevate Sharon Van Etten to arena status in another era; it is that stylish, that confident.

It’s powerfully confronting, unashamedly angry, unrelenting and it’s long. Yet throughout, the band’s mastery guides the album. The ebb and flow, often squeezed into the running time of a single track, is as beautiful as it is disarming.

Save for a couple of filler tracks--especially the trashy, throwaway 'Staying Home'--I Hate Music is an earnestly constructed album of melodic alt-rock.

There’s a fine line between using a formula and sticking to it, and it’s the smart way in which Sheer Mag do the former that makes ‘Playing Favorites’ so enthralling.

It’s a record of personal growth in its most authentic form. It’s nice to finally hear the whole story.

There's no avoiding the fact 'Blunderbuss' is an album for those already long inducted into the church of Jack White.

The record’s finest moments relate to everyone’s lives, in one way or another. Whether it’s golden youth or present day regrets, there’s something to cling onto.

Until The Quiet Comes is an album that is celebratory and desolate, dense and sparse, dark and colourful--a trippy, fantastical ride that only he could create a path for.

over again. A snarling, twisted, mischievous creation, Foil Deer is a leaping, high-spirited joy of a record.

This follow-up work of pent-up aggression; of complete contrast to snappy pop-punk; has every chance of becoming the band's seminal work.

Recorded with longtime producer Neal Avron, Southern Air isn't a major step away from the band's previous work but a return to the original fire of their early years.

Breathtaking and heartbreaking in so many different ways, ‘West End Girl’ may have begun by telling the tale of one of her life’s most bitter chapters, but now it’s become one of her most triumphant.

An elegant, engrossing return, that marries its creators’ love of both industrial and ecclesiastical aesthetics while remaining accessible and emotionally easy to grasp. Welcome back.

Be Your Own Pet have retained the vitality of their youth while leaving behind the baggage.

Pulp aren’t taking this chance to merely dine out on nostalgia; instead, they’re returning as evolutions, not imitations, of their past selves - grateful for what they have, while they have it.

Despite the album’s beginning in confusion, Saturn sounds genuinely uplifting throughout with her impressive vocal range being the focal point.

Multiple minute-long interludes flesh Wildflower out, feeling like breaks to an all-out, never-ending stage show. It needed to take something substantial to feel satisfied after those sixteen long years, and The Avalanches have gone beyond their calling.

It’s chaos, the most extreme kind of hybrid imaginable. With that freedom, they sound more excitable and progressive than ever, like they’re chasing a pot of gold that contains endless truths.

The lushest, most fleshed-out Cola record so far.

When it works, it really works.

As expected, the album’s only low moment comes with the introduction of vocals on ‘Richie Sacramento’. Thankfully, this doesn’t last long. The group are soon back on top of things with the majestic ‘Drive The Nail’ and we’re instantly transported back to their uniquely-formed wonderland.

It moves away from what many a critic will lazily refer to as Burial-esque, but still retains the throbbing heart that's always sat at the centre of his music.

If straying always leads to things as great as this, Iceage should continue veering from the path.

The atmosphere isn't always strictly severe, knowing right when to let up with gorgeous melodies seeping through the chiselled cracks. These moments save the record from being vociferous without a cause, allowing the more vehement moments to speak louder than they would otherwise.

Spiraling from stripped back laments into squalling chaos with an innate dexterity, Johnny Foreigner subvert their surroundings into a place of their own making.

What’s remarkable about ‘What A Devastating Turn Of Events’, though, is that the gravitas of this weightier material isn’t cheapened by the sudden contrast, just as the LP’s initial buoyancy somehow doesn’t become retrospectively flippant. Instead, the album honours that life’s lightness isn’t contradicted by the dark moments, but rather co-exists alongside them; a reminder that everything – and everyone – contains multitudes.

A technicolour triumph that’s his most ambitious, maximalist, and forward-facing work yet, ‘Radiosoul’ shows Alfie Templeman to be not just ‘good for his age’, but an assured, fully-formed artist capable of holding his own beside some of the industry’s best.

That Lava La Rue has managed to tame such huge ambition into a long-in-the-making debut that’s inventive but accessible and never outstays its welcome is a feat not to be diminished.

Here Dana’s lyricism and delivery land closer to the depth of feeling of Sharon Van Etten or Weyes Blood (‘Wednesday’; ‘In A Dream’), their evolution over the album’s course reflecting its slow but sure tilt towards thematic light.