Hearing Jordan laying bare these experiences that sound more his own than ever over La Dispute’s most impacting collection of songs yet is something that will invigorate the die-hards once more and maybe (just maybe) finally impress the naysayers.

Old Fears makes for a fascinating record, evolving gradually from start to finish and yet doing so in a way subtle enough so as to never jar nor stand out.

The result sees Plague Vendor’s ferocious punk swirl around explosions of synth and thunderous electronic drums, a combination that ultimately propels their ever-present homage to classic sounds into the present day.

Cleo Tucker and Harmony Tividad have already proven themselves as songwriters with a great deal of potential, and their debut record properly only confirms that they’re only just getting started.

It’s a statement packed with masses of future potential, and that’s all you can really ask for from a debut record.

This is perhaps Sigur Rós' most human-sounding album to date, too. Prepped for intimate nights with loved ones and exhausting journeys back home; it's an album that ditches the dramatic and brings in the calm.

Far from the fools of their name, Dumb are onto something pretty magnetic.

Against Justin’s increasingly interesting way with words, it feels like the purest Vaccines album yet.

A a good, clean indie-pop record, it’s a solid foot in the door for an act with a prosperous future ahead of them.

It’s a frankly overwhelming listen first time around, with everything tearing along at a hundred miles an hour, but it’s all fizzing and crackling so exhilaratingly that you’re happy to let her sweep you along.

The resulting back-and-forth between herself and Ellery - her honeyed tones set against his unmistakably raspy roars - is enthralling, and holds up regardless of musical backdrop. There’s low-key moments of genuine menace (‘Black Sun Rising’, the disquieting churn of ‘Serenity Says’) and some major key nods towards anthemic territory, too.

Though different in style and construction, they all succeed in doing in giving you the chills, in a whole new way.

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.

Anybody arriving at this album expecting 13 ‘Milkshake’s will be sorely disappointed, but everyone else will hear Kelis at her most effortless.

While the album is certainly softer in sound, it never plays it safe - experimental pay-offs are peppered throughout.

Tommy’s aware of her strengths, and she’s not afraid to brandish them: ‘goldilocks x’ is a little weird, a little dark, and it’s just right.

It’s a heftier beast that still reaches all-guns-blazing crescendos like it’s no biggie, but for the most part is slower, louder, and easier to lose oneself in than its rapid-fire younger brother, resounding proof that Spring King are still on an upward trajectory with no signs of slowing.

After years of reflection, this is a steady steep back towards the future.

From a band capable of biting social commentaries and intense concept albums about the First World War, this latest, fluffier episode in the Field Music saga is a solid record that does everything you’d ever hope a Field Music album would do.

Where Asher Roth left house-party hip hop (or just got a little high and wandered off) Chiddy Bang pick it up but bring a whole new focus, a pop-sensibility and a very nuanced delivery.

Through lulling endless days to fretting thoughts about the future, they remain the same bunch, capable of making the impossible sound almost too easy.

'Dear' has a refreshing simplicity and endearing vulnerability that will gatecrash your soul and render your skip button impervious.

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

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.

It is a work that demonstrates how sheer and utter horror can be turned into music, and while that may not appeal to the majority, the fact that someone is brave enough to do it is really quite brilliant.

Sure, there’s fewer marimbas on offer here, but Dutch Uncles have still served up a finger-lickin’ feast.

Pop-rock deconstructionist, art-rock godfather, Portland father and family man: all these elements come through here and it makes this album a triumph.

It seems Loyle has started listening to himself more, with ‘hopefully!’ artfully demonstrating his progression through musical influence, as well as through life.