There's a bewitching quality to it which suggests Clinic actually only exist in some form of musical vacuum. And right now, that sounds like a most spellbinding place to be.

‘Versions of Modern Performance’ is a gleaming window into a new generation of great American guitar bands.

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.

Tell Me How You Really Feel is a more mature record, and lyrically the most direct and honest Courtney has been to date.

On this debut, Jordan and pals aren’t afraid to contrast bravado with vulnerability, and it’s in the unexpected that their debut shines brightest.

Jack Cooper’s soft vocals are so understated that for long sections it feels like an instrumental record, but this only adds to the album’s blissful allure. It’s a delicate piece of work that somehow it manages to feel fully-formed at the same time. And it’s this contradiction that makes it such a compelling piece of work.

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.

Fine Line is a compelling document of an artist coming to life.

‘Tell Me That It’s Over’ is a superlative ode to vulnerability, permitting these indie wallflowers to flourish in technicolour.

They didn’t rush into Operator, and the compelling finished article is proof that patience pays dividends in the album game. Other rock debuts this year may well prove more immediately accessible, but few are likely to be as thrillingly original.

Aqualung has been ingeniously invigorated.

While their first outing had as much subtlety as a whack around the face, this time they’ve born a more considered--but sinister--creature.

Their knack for storytelling--which frontman Andrew Savage has always sported no matter what project he’s been involved in--has matured, providing extra strength to the slow jams this time around.

The vocal interplay meshes with the restless instrumentation and some of the most layered and considered storytelling that anyone could ask for. For an agitated, hyper collection of weird songs about made up or distorted topics TFS come achingly close to the total package.

He thrives in this intersection of extremes: there are moments of overwhelming emotional release, such as the swell and drop of ‘Tie Your Hair Up’, but there are also glimmers of delicacy.

Free of statements and the man’s desire to make every record some kind of grand manifesto, Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes is a mini-triumph that’s only occasionally tarnished.

Given time and patience, it will eventually unravel into a truly gripping that, although disturbing, is worth every minute of your time.

A big and brilliant step out of the box.

The elements needed to make Katie Crutchfield one of the greatest songwriters in indie rock have always been present, just not slotted together perfectly. When they do so on large amounts of Out In The Storm, the record provides of the most satisfying pinnacles of the year.

Familiar territory and no mistake, but his pining craft, all jazzy guitar shapes and heart-stung pleas, feels remarkably well-realised. Highlights abound.

Stranger in the Alps is as accomplished a solo debut as you’ll hear all year--a quietly devastating listen worthy of Phoebe Bridgers’ obvious influences.

Four full-lengths in, this is the most comprehensive full-length Joyce Manor have ever released.

Uneasy and unpredictable, yet invigorating.

M3LL155X is sometimes more show than substance, but it’s ultimately a sign of twigs getting more confident by the second.

The whole record shows them as a band who wear their heart on their sleeve, a perfect mix of ‘90s guitar nostalgia and sweet-sounding slacker rhythms.

Adding another installment to a successful legacy is always a risk, but with ‘McCartney III’, all the icon’s beloved songwriting quirks are out in full force. A more than worthy third prong of the trilogy.

It’s the sound of meeting someone for the first time, pulses racing, love rising up --that’s not best expressed in pure formula. Caribou has successfully managed to see past sense, instead opting with an instinct that tends to produce dazzling results.

‘Euphoric’ is grand, inspiring and convincing - and feels like summer love bottled up.