The kind of details she hones in on are so easily overlooked, but often the most jarring. Sometimes... begs you stop to sit and think about them for a while.

It’s cheeky, and should be gimmicky, but this is a record so sharply made in Kenney’s own non-conformist image, and she gets away with it. On this form, she’s destined for alt-pop greatness.

It’s the points at which A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships veers away from the preset aesthetic that feel the most profound.

Matador is a precise work of outstanding talent. While it may recycle the emotive wild card a little too often for some, any keen ear will be able to tell you this isn't some half baked solo project.

Tipping just over the 30-minute mark, Epic is a beautifully formed, sonically engaging work.

The Last Panthers is a thoroughly original take on a very familiar aesthetic, and by sheer will Clark’s produced something that ranks amongst the very best of its kind.

I Go Missing In My Sleep is a collection of beautiful songs made infinitely more beautiful by the way they've been meticulously put together. The lightest touch lets Wilson's exceptional vocal sit effortlessly close, without sacrificing complexity or interest.

Morley’s high sheen, pop production and MacIntyre’s optimistic spirit and meandering imagination fills Dear Satellite with dreamy, acoustic-pop songs that hold cinematic ambition and lush, swelling, crescendos. The combination works a charm, and MacIntyre sounds more energised and alive than he has in years.

City Sun Eater in the River of Light is also one of 2016’s most interesting and restrained records so far.

The end product is stern, frigid and heavy minimalist-techno, which also happens to be pop as ...: urgent, impatient, sculpted, immediate, and incident-packed.

It’s darker in tone than its predecessor and it sounds meaner and more sarcastic in spirit. And while Steve Albini is back at the dials on production, ‘Fire’ sounds so raw it leaves you with the impression that he tackled every track individually with a power-sander.

My only qualm with The Magic Place is with its song structure. Each of the nine songs starts sparsely, weaves into an intricate texture, bulges with layered loops and then tails off.

In an age when subtlety is far from the most prized connotative currency, Isotach is a quite literal stark reminder that finesse and restraint can still bound forth on their own terms.

It’s the crafting of timeless, crest-fallen melodies infused with gripping characterisations that elevates Darnielle into the upper-crust of musical virtuosity. And that’s exactly where Heretic Pride leaves him: perched atop the pile of today’s try-hardy singer/songwriters.

The only constant is the deep, mellow drum tone that brings the band’s disparities together and creates a beautifully cohesive narrative flow.

There’s a Riot Going On is their fifteenth album and, like most of their discography, it carries itself with an unassuming (but powerful) air of quiet confidence.

The only thing is presence and the present. The modest conclusion to a modest and warm album, is that Eden might be closer than you think.

Whatever you care to call him, the man’s come up with the goods.

At times full of nervous vigour, at others letting itself fall blindly backwards into honeyed daydream, A Different Ship has a life and character all of its own.

If you’re looking for ease and comfort there’s a deluge of that available, but there are aren’t many records like The Centre Cannot Hold. Frost has achieved a thrillingly precarious balance whereby there is always the tiniest spark of light to glean amongst the relentless dirge.

Regardless of their supporting tropes, the songs prove themselves consistently memorable and enjoyable. It’s another home run for Bejar--an all-too-short taster that will leave you dreaming of Spain’s mountains and deserts, and longing for more.

It’s done brilliantly, with no frills, no ego, no sense of homage (just some damn fine influences), no fat, no bullshit, nothing bar hooks, energy and a certain air of ineffable sadness for good measure. Sometimes you need to believe a scene or movement will save your life. Other times, there’s nothing wrong being casually blown away by a record like The Soft Pack.

The zany highs--and even the not-so-zany lows--of Color conjure a fantastic parallel world, lightyears away from any other fighting contender, and still unforgettable in private lives

It is curiously and enjoyably irregular.

What K-X-P are dealing in is label-less music; complex, iron-gripping sounds delivered with towering bombast. It should be a mess. It should be unlistenable. But it’s not--it’s extraordinary.

Youth Novels is a twinkle-toed debut that dares to suggest what others can only make tediously plain, and leaves us in the rarely-enjoyed position of actually wanting more.

The Airborne Toxic Event can hold their heads high safe in the knowledge their supposedly difficult second album is a resolute triumph in the face of adversity.

So, after all this time is she still worth the time of day? Without a shadow of a doubt.

As with every Au Revoir Simone record, it's so easy to sling your headphones on and find yourself swept up in the music.

Zun Zun Egui's endlessly enjoyable second album is a bold and brilliant statement--an amorphous thing that entices and beguiles whilst simultaneously delivering heart-quickening thrills.

There is a beautiful, communal power in slow grooves like “Ya Habibti,” with its circling, mesmeric riffs and hand-clapped syncopations. “Asdikte Akal” moves a bit quicker, more of a trot than a shuffle, but also feels like a group endeavor.

In a lyrical and musical exploration of the themes of duality, Cursive have come out with a conflicted gem.

Being a Liars album, it is magnificent.

Constant Bop has an air of effortless accomplishment and fresh brilliance, which can only come from hard work and a fastidious attention to detail.

It’s another excellent Gruff Rhys album then, tied around an unusual concept but not bogged down by it.

It is wistful in tone, but it's no nostalgia trip and summer or not it's a consistently blissful and thrilling EP that bodes well for any forthcoming album.

You know a good sound when you want to take out a second mortgage to buy headphones good enough to appreciate it.

If you're not interested in music that makes you feel reflective then perhaps steer clear, otherwise this is a stark, brutally honest exploration of the human psyche that is indeed special.

With Oczy Mlody, The Flaming Lips have managed to take us on apocalyptic journey that’s also fun, which is no mean feat. If the 'real' end of the world is half as fun, we’ll all be alright.

What really stands out is how …Dog literally hits the ground running from its opener, 'Pagan Angel And A Borrowed Car,' cutting a clear slice from the organic and distinctive junkyard percussion and deep-fried blues stomps of Tom Waits.

Folds proves that, sometimes, the gamble you take on saying too much can pay off.

Whereas Treats was chopped and spat,Reign Of Terror galumphs like the proverbial leviathan it is.

It’s a surprise that the band managed to get through those weird four years and make such a consistent album--from front to back it’s exceptionally well sequenced.

All in all, You Got Me Singing is wonderfully curated and beautifully executed, with just the right amount of imprecision in the pretty-much simultaneity of when the two sing together.

It’s an oftentimes stunning piece of neo-pop that’s enabled La Grange to catch up with the zeitgeist that so eluded her two years ago.

This is Eminem’s best record in a decade--and one of the most impressive, entertaining and addictive hip-hop albums of the year.

Of course, we already knew that SGD could dish out more than most amateur punks. But this time around, the duo flaunt even more of their hard rock swagger. Ursula finesses the kit like the legends, while Delilah can command her voice with more expression and scathing attitude than ever before.

Like any covers album that translates between genres, there’s an occasional sense of frustration or compromise...but that's "occasional" within tracks--there are no duds here.

Confident song structures, accomplished, fearless vocals and beautifully put-together instrumentation, Heartstrings will coax the band's early fans into forgiving them for their previous offerings.

If you want a record that sounds a little out of step with everything else around it, which brightens its corners with all sorts of musical curios, then it's a yes for Every Step's A Yes.

For the most part, Deloused In The Comatorium is truly exquisite and well worth the wait.

This is a remarkable, compelling record that hits the heights of the heavenly poetical but also dredges the deep dark of cruelty and meanness that flashes through us all at times (though through Kozelek more than most it would seem).

This is the most brutal metal record to see a release in 2006.

Bike For Three! don’t often have the danceable poppiness of Neon Neon (though don’t get me wrong, they never drift into the background) but it’s hard not to think of that other collaboration for the simple reason: embracing a slick, futuristic, highly-produced sound has unexpectedly brought about the best album yet, by all concerned

This, likewise, isn't for every occasion--and perhaps not for everyone--but for those who do chance it, an immensely rewarding work that feels like much more than music.

It grows and grows with each listen, and though it has less of an immediate impact than their debut, it has a true sense of journey through its beginning, middle and end, an element often disregarded in an industry gluttonously obsessed with hit singles.

Despite the lineup change and the turmoil surrounding the trio, Flourish // Perish builds upon Braids equally striking debut without retreading old work.

This is another brilliantly executed four tracks and, if it is anything to go by, Cheatahs needn’t worry about The Difficult Second Album.

Advaitic Songs shares a lot of the same strengths as the recent output by Earth--every listen unfolds another texture, another line gets embedded in the brain.

This is as useful and high quality a starting point as just about anything they've recorded.

As a genre post-rock is certainly stubborn and persistent in the face of rocky times for guitar music, but its value is no illusion if Do Make Say Think’s latest is anything to go by.

As Seen Through Windows is both a progression and an evolution from the band's previous work, and it would be criminal to overlook them this time.

Unlike the best of those artists, however, the variety of ideas on Further Complication do not have a uniform success rate to bond them, and this is what stops the album short of reaching classic status.

He may be pushing boundaries and himself less urgently than before, but in doing so he’s made his most palatable and varied record to date.

There may be less outsider allure now that he’s opened his heart, but his fourth consistently good LP in a row casts his authenticity in emotional honesty for the first time while expanding his musical palette beyond all expectations.

There are just enough love songs in there to keep it rock, just enough instrumentals to edge it back towards the cinematic, and more than the usual helping of skill to smooth off the edges and end up with a beautifully rounded, awesome debut album.

Save the odd occasion where Merritt opts for smirking affect over emotional resonance, it all adds up to an excellent addition to an already distinguished back catalogue.

Overall, Clash The Truth isn't so much a departure from Beach Fossils' playful innocence as a more a mature statement of intent documenting Payseur's coming of age as both a musician and songwriter.

Logos is a gorgeous, hallucinatory and somewhat sickly outing.

Even if, as a whole, The Deep Field isn't quite as rewarding as Wasser's first two records, it's an altogether different, diverse and challenging experience. Thankfully, that voice remains intact: vulnerable but somehow powerful.

Their third album Infinite Arms glows with that familiar sound, a sound born with an American heart.

Despite the fact that a few of these nineteen tracks could easily have been cut, or that its mid-tempo pacing may drive it dangerously close to sounding monotonous, the evidence still points to that of a songwriter clawing back to his best.

Moments of genuine marvel, each one craving its own flowery descriptives, come thick and fast.

Its strangeness is all-pervasive, yet understated. It‘s Deerhunter’s quietest record to date, and not exactly lacking in hooks--’Element’ and ‘Plains’ are earworm-ish. And yet everything’s ineffably odd. ... But it all adds to the the album’s allure--a singular thing, not quite of this world, desert fruit ripening quietly on the eve of the end.

While the band have clearly slowed down to create their fifth record, Painted Ruins shows no signs of stopping their quality of sound and long may that continue.

There probably won’t be a better instrumental album than this in 2015. It will certainly be one of the most inventive, delicate and fearless records the year will offer.

More considered than the debut, more quietly patient and yet somehow more addictive.

None Shall Pass envelops the sounds of hip-hop’s spiritual home more than any album in his notable career.

There is something exorbitantly satisfying about enjoying what you might deem to be a comeback album, especially when it arrives from an established band that many - including myself - thought were out of fresh ideas.

The thrill of being a band again with an arsenal full of ideas means it's a lot more focused. They've managed to create powerful rock and tender ballads without needing to rely on the guitar riff as a means of expression--energy simply oozes out of their every move.

On this record, Merril Garbus manages the impressive feat of condensing much of the decade’s more interesting musical trends into one very well delivered tapestry.

Not easy, but often fascinating, wholly rewarding and genuinely cathartic.

The imagery threaded throughout is at once arresting and functions on multiple levels, but perhaps its greatest achievements arrive in the form of songs like ‘Double Life’ and, pertinently, ‘You Are Your Mother’s Child’.

While that argument over the art of the singer-songwriter may be embedded in a lack of originality, Villagers have managed to craft an endearing record, glowing with a heart-warming level of nostalgia.

While a gradual refinement is noticeable from House Of Balloons to Echoes Of Silence, a lack of breathing space between the tracks does them no favours. You're better off dedicating yourself to each album's meaty serving of revelry and regret in turn.

It doesn't really matter how this record sits in comparison to the last few; it's gorgeous.

Girl or boy, The Decemberists have been there to drape a drunken arm around in the absence of fortune for the best part of 15 years now. The good news is, the tone in that arm is firmly set again. A genuine and welcome joy.

They are a less irreverent and more melodic Art Brut, swapping that band’s caustic wit for a far nicer type of honesty.

While unlikely to win many prizes for originality, I Will Be possesses likability in spades, not to mention a hefty selection of demurely constructed tunes that might delve into the past for inspiration but smile brightly into the future as a result.

I’m perfectly happy settling for an upgrade rather than a complete overhaul.

Even as these pieces are tightly composed, improvisation, solos, a loss of control, are never far away. This can only be a good thing.

A set of incredibly well put together takes on all of your favourite nursery rhymes.

A compelling record then all told, and one which should hopefully ensure Marshall has the benefit of a label suitor for his next release if there's any justice.

The erratic nature of this album makes it a near perfect soundtrack for these troubled times, where no one is quite sure what awaits around the next corner.

So where the Share the Joy may inhabit a broad spectrum of emotions, inflicted with anxiety in places and rife with The Vivs' trademark wit, ultimately, it can be viewed as a shiny beacon of joy in an ever growing climate of discontent.

This is not a record of ballads for emo fans.... This album is a collection of proper songs.

As with many dance LPs, Swisher is slightly on the long side--65 minutes is more than enough time to get your groove on. But the album never ends up sounding repetitive, the emotions behind the beats don’t allow it to.

On Let them Eat Chaos Tempest has cemented herself as a poet/rapper of the highest order, who isn’t happy just make the masses smile, but to challenge and make them think and love too.