Brutally hip-hop with post-punk tendencies, Ratking’s debut album is a wonderfully dystopic record that is as progressive as it is anarchist. Ratking really is that thing.

My album of the year - whatever year it is.

An ambitiously themed, leftfield, modern classical album that not only impresses, but totally enthrals.

The Cool Kids’ revivalist format might not remain flavour of the month long enough for their debut LP proper, "When Fish Ride Bicycles," to have much of a commercial impact when it’s released later this year, but this taster ten-tracker of older material certainly leaves a pleasant aftertaste.

Instead of jumping on board the reformation circuit like many of his Nineties contemporaries, Haines has released a concept album about British wrestling. Haines is not mad. He is an artist in the truest sense, and for that he is to be applauded.

Overall, you’re left the impression of an artist genuinely expressing themselves. It may not be his Born In The USA--despite what Vile claims--but Bottle It In ultimately succeeds in its intentions and further escalates Vile’s reputation as part of a rare breed of authentic songwriters. And that’s alright for now.

A couple of tracks at once would probably be the best prescription to suggest, rather than ingesting as a whole.

Much like the youth the record so pointedly evokes, it’s worth going through everything to get to this point.

The subtlety of musicianship on each track is quite brilliant.

Even peering through the gauze of the back-story, Cat Power's ninth album is a feat of musical and emotional maturity.

Escape from Evil might not change the world (unless you live for slightly off-kilter Eighties-style pop records, in which case, you should be thanking Lower Dens immensely), but it is all the more impressive because of its unexpected accessibility.

Our advice, then: pick and choose via online outlets to get the best out of this album, as in this instance Dizzee’s mathematical skills have failed to calculate a formula for another must-buy release.

Awesome offcuts.

Other changes of note are a full remaster, which has actually made a palpable difference to the plumpness of the bass in songs like 'Hispanic Impressions', and three extra tracks, all released on split EPs prior to this album coming out. They haven't ruined it or anything daft, but also aren't cooking at the level of most of the actual album.

At 13 songs it's an eventful ride and one that takes repeated listens to really click but once it does, Ladytron makes all the right noises in all the right places.

In Each and Every One is a whirlwind of an experience that elevates as much as it does bury you in fear, you'd be foolish to write this off.

There are few traces of the musician Cooke has presented himself as previously, but if this is how he wants to strike out on his own, the comparisons to his other bands should be incredibly short lived.

The everything-but-the-kitchen-sink promotional campaign--an appearance on Made In Chelsea here, a cover of ‘Wrecking Ball’ on Dutch radio there--might smack of desperation. Fortunately, In the Silence is more than good enough to dispel any such impressions.

Sisterworld derives unity from its punchdrunk stagger, arresting the worry Liars had lost their command of atmosphere after "Drum’s Not Dead." They’ve soaked themselves in a new city and emerged renewed, once again.

Ultimately Spaces Everywhere is a record that sparkles with little hints of wit, unconventional beauty and musical verve, but they shine so brightly because of the mediocrity that surrounds them.

It's not got the immediate clout of Antidotes; and it's not one to spin when prepping for a party (it's actually kind of a downer, apart from 'Miami', which kills). But if you work with it, something really ghostly happens.

Silberman has crafted an enthralling, minimalist mood piece on which the barely-there nature of the instrumentation belies deep nuance and forethought, with tension and insecurity rumbling softly beneath the face-value serenity. Gorgeous.

By drawing from her vast catalogue of experiences, she finds the scope for an engaging range of musical tangents. Yet somehow, she has made an album which is not confused or disjointed.

This 2017 take on Eighties cinematic synth-pop is an unexpected joy in which to relish the impending political slime approaching us.

Their most well-rounded LP so far.

Senses pummelled and synapses shredded, Holding Hands With Jamie represents anything but an easy ride. But then reputations aren't earned lightly, and Girl Band have earned theirs as the most excitingly coarse noise rock outfit on the planet through sheer guts and tenacity.

‘Bows And Arrows’ isn’t a bad album, merely average, struggling to match the level of excitement generated by the brilliant single ‘The Rat’.

The album continues in typically strange style. However, despite the lack of musical progression, for some reason Screen Memories sounds, whisper it, on trend.

A bit like returning to your home town, it’s a little bit different but essentially the same every time, and there’s always something comforting about that.

They’ve refined their scope to create an album that you want to blast out of your car, your house party--or ideally a boombox having been transported back to a street corner in Eighties New York.

Not only have they made a better record than their debut, they’ve made one of the best records of the young decade.

Topics like institutionalised evil, war and greed are always valid targets and The Coathangers go for the throat--and draw blood--pleasingly and memorably at every opportunity. This should be their moment of glory.

Some will accuse them of cynicism, and they may be right, but there is enough intriguing material which is unarguably theirs here which keeps this an inventive and enjoyable pop-rock record.

Whether If It Was You or So Jealous serve as your touchstone for what this group should be, Sainthood is unlikely to leave you one hundred per cent satisfied. Which is good--in their own way Tegan and Sara are mavericks; that’s what always saves them in the end.

It pretty much wouldn't be a Silver Mt Zion record if it didn't have a pretty-much-impossible-to-understand conceptually connected section at one or more points. Tracks four to six fit this bill, being alternate spellings of the album title.

God is an Astronaut is the most human post-rock has ever been.

Short, but very, very bittersweet.

While Dulli’s working from his usual palette of muddy grooves, guitar-scree and leering swagger, the new album sounds more urgent and lucid in intention than its predecessors.

It’s the unhurried nature of these improvisations which are their greatest strength. Couple this with his sharp ear for melody, not to mention his frequently unbelievable fingertips, and this album emerges as another incredibly strong outing for Sir Richard Bishop in a truly interesting and consistent discography.

Nevertheless, despite its impending theme of hopelessness, Suicide Songs delivers on every level--not least of which is highlighting Jamie Lee as one of the finest wordsmiths of his generation.

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

All in all, With Siinai: Heartbreaking Bravery has the air of a project to it rather than a vital artistic pursuit.

Despite many excellent tunes, a continual emphasis on effects makes the album slightly grating in parts, feeling a bit like a Wire and Frampton Come Alive! recurring super group nightmare, in which the best and worst aspects of Seventies rock music are forced to combine to beat the Russians.

If perhaps before Lewis's music had a tendency to be swamped by small-print, here the songs know when to step back, to give way to a catchy chorus or a hummable riff.

This is a superb album, and each time you listen to it you’ll find something new to like.

Made In The Dark must rank as something of a missed opportunity, but as a bigger, bolder (if overlong) follow-up to a deservedly popular second album, they’ve succeeded admirably.

It’s stirring, tragic fare that demonstrates why For Willie is a good introduction for those new to Nelson and Houck alike.

Though by no means as manic as previous Deerhoof long-players, this is a intriguing record which stands up next to the bewildering excellence of Runners Four.

There’s a nocturnal ambience in places, a mythic sensibility throughout, but plenty of light in the dark.

‘The Wolf’ demonstrates it is still essential for a rebel rock n roll record to compel you to punch the air as if Motley Crue were making a comeback, Vince Neill and all.

For now, let’s revel in the fact there’s a record that swings from sumptuous sprawls to ear-sizzling riffs.

All through this Olausson gives every impression of earnestness; it’s this ability to fashion a hook out of something nobody in their right mind would even think of that ensures a level of sparkle even when the sonic territory is well trodden.

This is one person using only the bare minimum but still crafting something beautiful.

This is one made like they used to make 'em--and it's utterly gorgeous to boot.

There is no slack, no flab and nothing that even comes close to pretension; the sharp sound and honesty come totally naturally.

Our flower peddlers serve functional rock music, plastic utensils for rudimentary needs, easily disposable and just as easily replaced. And that’s frustrating, for several reasons.

Chalice Hymnal drifts a lot and while every song is distinguished, too often shorter tracks don’t feel as fully developed as their longer brethren.

The Stand Ins is assured, ambitious and occasionally transcendent in its appeal--a worthy expansion of its forerunner and standalone joy in itself.

With Nocturnal Koreans Wire have done it again, leaving you with that craving for more: More noise. More weirdness. More bloody Wire.

Through it all, Delicate Steve does what so few composers are able to do: his billowing compilation resonates without words, its sterling procession an otherworldly creation that remains grounded somehow.

Excellent Italian Greyhound is everything you’d want from a new Shellac record - terrific-sounding, expertly performed and gleefully atonal as ever, but it’s live that this legendary three-piece’s performance art really comes to life as more than the sum of its casually-displayed parts.

While there is still room for improvement-–the still clear Nine Inch Nails references somewhat prove that--Criminal will please both fans of the genre and intrigue potential newcomers, of which there will be plenty to this strange, niche genre.

It does the job you need it to do. It succeeds entirely on its own, self-contained terms.

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.

Concrete Desert may--for some listeners--be missing an excavation of the dark musical hearts of each of these two fine musicians, but what it offers instead is something tangibly unique in the catalogues of two legendary figures.

This is not as good as its predecessor.

Sounding somehow perfectly modern yet refreshingly and celebratory retro, The Life Pursuit is Belle And Sebastian at their freest, delightfully spilling over with great ideas and perfect pop know-how.

It might not be the freshest, most original sounding record you’ll hear this year (it could have easily been released at any point in the 25 years without eyebrows being raised), but it terms of solid yet somewhat subversive indie-pop enjoyability, you will be hard pressed to find something better.

Practically every moment of Hit Reset feels as important as it is brilliant. With the possible exception of 'Time Is Up' (a perfectly good song, just not up to the standard of the rest of the album), it feels damn near flawless.

'Guero' contains several familiar sounds merely repackaged and freshened up - remnants of the party album mentality of 'Midnite Vultures' sit next to the eclecticism of 'Odelay' and the folk sensibilities of 'Mutations'. What negates this is the conviction with which it's all delivered.

Whether these 15 tracks have helped him lay some demons to rest is impossible to say, what’s beyond all doubt however, is that I’m New Here is a seriously good record.

Tough going and very samey, both in sonics and lyricism. Even if you enjoy the basic template, you may well run out of steam before the end.

'Almost Killed Me' is a rock album that is – above all – listenable and fucking energetic but never calculated and never sneering.

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.

Technically sound, simply arranged, atmospheric and occasionally psychedelic, Calla don’t just write musical warning shots bearing messages of violent frustration... they are also capable of immense beauty.

Palmer has made a record that sounds not like the latest from Brechtian punk cabaret's leading light, but the thoughtful debut from an invigorated artist, striking out from the valley of the Dolls.

Turn this one need up loud to fully appreciate it--it's hardly bedtime listening--but you might want to have a little sit down and gather your thoughts after listening to it through for the first time and then listen to it again.

We can speculate as to how their ethos and focus was developed from time spent in the company of other imaginative musicians – it could well be essential to their consistent evolution – but the evidence on Peepers leaves no doubt as to how successful this union of education and expression is.

The two together make magic: the songs don't feel like they've been crafted, rather that they just floated, fully-formed, into existence. Like the people Diamond Mine talks about, the songs aren't any one thing: they just are.

They've constructed their most diverse and arguably finest collection to date in fourth long player Into Forever.

It’s a record without a weak link, that doesn’t outstay its welcome, and excites you about the possibility of seeing it all played live.

Adventurous and bold yet distinctive in execution, No Time represents Dan Reeves' most essential body of work to date.

Solidly crafted and splendidly written.

The songs might not be classics quite yet but the sounds on offer here suggest that the best of Siskiyou might yet be ahead.

Rather than re-invent the wheel, they’ve instead covered it in thousands of sequins, loaded it into a fluorescent cannon, and fired into the deepest, trippiest stratosphere in the whole solar system.

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

Illegals in Heaven is not an album you ponder about-the words and the grooves stab your brain and tap fountains of hormones. Blank Realm have done it again, and together they’ll take on the world for love.

Pere Ubu are somewhere in-between that--impenetrable musique concrete sound collages mixed with upbeat, breezy pop. A strange, strange world to inhabit, but one that’s ultimately as rewarding as it is frustrating.

For a record that is largely improvised, it is stunning that such a cohesive piece can be put together and it will be fascinating to see what other tricks this trio has up their sleeve.

Trick is comfortably Jamie T’s best album so far, showing off every element he can and touching many bases without ever feeling like the contrast is jarring.

This is the album 2016 deserves, whether it finds it a particularly pleasant listen or not.

Be Music is an enjoyable, interesting curio, that sits alongside the 2002 collection as a fascinating companion to one of our most unique groups; and a satisfying journey into electronica in its own right.

Their collective relentless energy combined with their individual talents saves their sound from feeling repetitive.

The music is often troubling--as well it should be, given the context--but ultimately it is a trenchantly human record that is sweepingly cinematic in scope.

ken’s a grower. It’s not going to immediately colonise one’s affections in the way the best Destroyer records do, but it will slowly get there, even if some will immediately dismiss it as a supposedly 'weak entry' in the Destroyer catalogue.

The queasy electronic work on Punk Drunk and Trembling, though, feels fresh, like the breaking of new ground, and you can say the same for ‘Maze’, with Tom Fleming’s baritone floating over an undulating bed of synths.

Thematically and in delivery There Is No Elsewhere is an album from a band revelling in their identity and in being true to themselves through a sound already highly recognisable as only theirs and at once formidable and fragile, beautiful and fascinating.

In terms of vulnerability, adrenaline-overdrive and frivolous riffing, however, II is firing on all cylinders.