She is as captivating as ever, but the rougher edges have been removed slightly giving us a more polished, and immediate, album.

Not consolidating or scaling back their ambition in the slightest, mewithoutYou continue to be one of indie-rock’s most consistently fascinating voices, and on ‘[Untitled]’ they’re as weird and wonderful as ever.

The opening three numbers shine, showing a refreshing sound bursting at the seams with positivity, but the lack of variety means that, by the end, you may feel slightly bludgeoned by it all.

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

Iit feels like a natural extension from what’s come before rather than a bold move forward, but you can tell Santigold had fun making it all the same.

Accordingly, he’s lent the whole affair an electronic flavour that doesn’t really work. In some cases, that’s because it’s crashingly outdated.

Love Is Magic feels like a victory lap. Frequently boundary-pushing, side-splittingly funny and anything but safe, John Grant’s fourth LP is a rip-roaring thrill ride that’s immensely danceable to boot. Magic really does work in mysterious ways.

Kurt takes a leaf out of Courtney’s book and wears his heart on his sleeve, searching for introspection and delving into his deepest and most personal lyrics to date--about love, loss and everything in between.

Vitriola is a fiercely political record, but one that seldom feels trite; married to the aggressive tone of a band back to make a point, it’s a razor-sharp lament of America in 2018.

Jassbusters is the album of a musician who has been around the block a bit, knows what he wants and more importantly how to get it.

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

Fall Into the Sun is the best Swearin’ record yet; that Allison and Kyle have not just reformed the band, but actually brought the creative best out of each other in doing so, is a powerful advert for reconciliation.

Subtle swells of synth and strings back up the album’s most emotionally intense moments, but her vocals can do the job on their own, especially on beautiful highlight ‘cradle’.

Her tenth studio album might be written about Cat Power’s own journey, but it also doubles as an essential compass for finding your way through the dark.

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.

Quiet River of Dust won’t be for everyone, but you can’t help but marvel at its ambition.

Barry Johnson’s vocals remain huge, and riffs are still catchy, but in trying to expand their palate, their identity might just be starting to slip.

The Joy Formidable have made the statement they needed to with AAARTH--it’s an album of compositional daring and fierce experimentation.

Full of lilting indie-pop, often swelling with trumpets, string sections and a sense of wistfulness, European Heartbreak sounds nostalgic for a dream, the realisation of which has long since passed.

After Saturation's freewheeling spirit and an insatiable appetite for fun, Iridescence had to confront the past nine months, and make a statement as to how the band move forward. It does so emphatically.

It remains to be seen whether The Art Of Pretending To Swim will gain Villagers hoards of new followers, but fans of the Irish five-piece will put their fourth record right up there with their best.

Chris is a second album that thrives in the realm of the uncertain, throws perceptions on gender, sexuality and expression comprehensively out of the window, and cements the status of Héloïse Letissier as a true star.

The power gained from its creation can be felt in the way the band crash their way through its nine songs, and will undoubtedly also transmit to anyone who presses play.

For all their goth rock exterior, My Mind Makes Noises is ultimately a pop record with substance at its core.

The Goon Sax are at their best when asking questions and trying to work out their existential angst, rather than giving definitive answers.

Jungle have largely played it safe here; the feelgood alt-funk of ‘Heavy, California’ could sit seamlessly alongside anything from their debut, while the ominous nocturnal strut of single ‘Happy Man’ is just ‘Busy Earnin” Mk II.

While not wholly consistent, Teleman’s third LP contains some of their best work yet.

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.