The songs on this record have been delivered with the kind of aplomb that only someone with an unshakeable confidence in their work can muster, which suggests that Nadine Shah’s artistic future is mouthwatering.

It’s the sound of forbidden affairs, illicit sex with strangers in bars, drunken confessions, of real life. And it feels fantastic.

The music itself is epic, and not in that wanky overblown stadium rock way--epic in the way of glockenspiels and falsettos and cello bow scraping against guitar strings and pounding drums and explosions of piano chords.

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

Sleep Of Reason is darker, deeper and more daring than either Coexist or Overgrown and more emotional and soulful than The xx or James Blake. Ninja Tune won't release a better record this year.

Lust for Life represents the thawing of the ice queen we thought we knew, and the strange death of her American dream. The warmth and humility revealed beneath are all the more thrilling for how well they were kept under lock and key. Human after all.

Nothing's third album is something of a safe bet: fans of the band and/or genre will still enjoy this, while Agnello's name being attached may turn a few extra heads, but it is feasible that the whole 'nu-shoegaze' movement is running out of steam.

The unwillingness to risk emotional connection seen on Mars meant it often slipped into the background, but the shift to more straightforward songcraft and the continuing successful genre fusion means Mean Love both demands and rewards attention.

It sits alone in his cannon as being slightly uncomfortable but in turn is a brilliantly concise work (it runs to a little over 30 minutes).

Even if the album loses its way with its final two tracks, you are left so exhausted by this stage that it almost comes with a sense of relief. By reinventing what they do best, Doves have fearlessly strutted back onto everyone's radar.

The music is dynamic, danceable and largely based around swelling arpeggios of stabbing synths, but it remains resolutely cold, major keys avoided.

Monto occasionally overwhelms as its leading light pivots. Patience is rather vital as the album expands and Murphy continues to contemplate. There’s no padding here, but like any good trip into an intriguing mind you may emerge from the swell a touch dizzy.

I'm Bad Now delivers throughout its 11, mostly restrained pieces in a way that highlights Chapman's exquisite prowess for astute observational prose.

Because past the pop songs, past the soaring (and let’s not make any bones about it, this album soars in places) this is a supremely clever album.

Both dream-like and slightly brutal in its approach, Ash Wednesday is a rare folk-rock LP, drenched in equal parts sunshine and cloudy grey skies.

The biggest crime here is that it sounds so dated-listening to Flesh Tone is a bit like watching a filmmaker failing to ape the innovation of The Matrix more than a decade after it was made.

Hinds are here to have fun, whether you like it or not. They may not push past boundaries they are comfortable with, but they have identified the qualities that make them special--carving out their own niche in the modern music spectrum of loveable lo-fi embedded with off-kilter charm.

Rich and accomplished; beautifully played and immaculately conceptualised, Albarn’s latest trip from FitzRoy to Faeroes and back, via Dogger and Dover, is a drizzle-soaked deep-dive into a fractured land and fractured people. One of the quiet highlights of the year.

You can’t help but feel that all those who have ignored Metric in 2009 are simply missing out. Fantasies is proof that you can make big event music that doesn’t make you die on the inside.

There is only really one misstep on Unguarded.

Welcome, Stranger!, unfortunately, leaves the listener largely nonplussed. And while a lot of these tracks are perfectly nice-sounding, it feels a bit tragic to consign a record by the Blue Aeroplanes to the background.

This is a brilliant, understated, wonderfully crafted record from a band who it feels have been building up to this moment their entire careers.

Ultimately, an interesting album within its constraints rather than a hands-down triumph, but there were a lot of constraints.

Not everything is as memorable as everything else and there are a few tracks which perhaps have a tendency to meander a bit too long, but these do not take away from the overall feel of the album, more just drift off into space as is the predominant feeling of the two records.

After it burrows its way under your skin, The Terror does genuinely feel like something of a dark masterpiece, the album you’ll stick on to discredit anyone who tries to claim The Flaming Lips are lacking in depth or darkness.

With Ghost Blonde, No Joy have chiselled all the shoegaze basics into a formidable account of themselves. An indispensable album of their own is not far off.

While Mug Museum is probably Cate le Bon’s weakest collection of songs, it’s nonetheless a great refinement of her recent artistic development, a typically rewarding showcase of gutsy eccentricity, and the promise of more satisfying material to come.

Viet Cong's volatile brew often coalesces into something disarmingly catchy.

The real joy of Adams’ back catalogue is that both his vocal mannerisms and skill as a guitarist have allowed him to take a versatile approach to his songwriting; both are evident on Ryan Adams, but the one aspect that does suffer is his lyricism.

Further exploration and perseverance reveals a collection of tunes rich with details, awash with well honed musical ideas, thoughtfully arranged vocals and expression filled lyrics.

It’s this gentle tension between rigidity and fluidity which makes this a brilliant record. There’s enough repetition to draw you into its ambient landscape, but enough deviation to provide surprise and detail.

The production is progressive, but not difficult; the mixture of sampled melodies and live instrumentation gives the whole record a submarine clarity and (as with many Anticon releases) the more listens the listener gives, the more content the album returns.

Lucky aims high but once again falls short.

So if you want to thrash around your bedroom playing air guitar, pretending to be the rock star which you're never going to quite be, stick Steeple on and let the air guitar sessions begin.

There are certainly active emotions fuelling the themes laid out on this album, and I daresay you could identify fragments of meta-commentary. It's just that you need to take most of it on good faith.

There are passages of relative inaction in the music, while Frahm gives the narrative momentum its space. But happily, not only does this create what’s probably a remarkably well judged score which neither overpowers nor outperforms a film it’s supposed to be complimenting, it also results in a strong stand-alone mood piece, thoroughly deserves to be heard by all of his admirers.

It caps it all off to be as blunt, open and insightful as you would expect from someone you're now on first name terms with.

Hey Venus! is the most concise album in the band's history.

Rather than playing the same bars he’s actually always dangling a carrot, and this time with the tenderest of touches.

Broke has instances of stunningly original songwriting and there's rarely a dull moment, but it's more a kaleidoscopic 'story so far' than a complete manifesto.

You can't help but think that The Felice Brothers were stuck in a Catch-22 regarding the development of their sound; damned if they did, damned if they didn't. On the strength of this offering it's clear that while the mix isn't quite there yet, the approach being taken is worth pursuing.

A tastefully produced, solid entry into the Man Man catalogue.

What we get is an interesting departure from his usual work, but not interesting enough to create the eternal music that he is talented enough to execute.

Order of Noise shows how to balance the two extremes without committing to one single constant, and that anyone can make an original noise, but to make one that's accessible takes skill.

Here's a record that shows an innovative appropriation of sound that makes for one of the most exhilarating and original albums he's ever done.

En Form For Bla is a record where it's tempting and possible to zone out of and forget that you're even listening, let alone any specifics of sound.

The Wanting boasts both technical excellence and a cosy, welcoming atmosphere. A simple combination, perhaps, but a hugely rewarding one.

Lone has delivered a Nineties attack that even Neil Buchanan would be proud of.

It probably is all going to sound a little more raucous and electrifying in the flesh, but this will definitely keep you sated in between those doses delivered in person.

Not everything works perfectly here but when he gets it right, he really nails it.

AFI has little in the way of stumbles and no real clunkers to speak of, but a sense of familiarity and repetition creep in before the finish. It’s not enough to tarnish the gems but a greater commitment to ruthlessness would have been welcome.

The record works not because it feels cynical, but because beneath the obvious lyrical headlines, you can sense Longstreth’s genuine enthusiasm for the new forms he’s exploring so vigorously.

It’s an honest record, one that puts Iqbal’s own deftly balanced sound and influences to the forefront, while also having some piercing yet thoughtful insights into contemporary society. As a first step under her own name, it’s a hugely confident stride forward.

Perhaps the highest compliment you can pay the latest Faun Fables album is that neither its 'tuneful' or 'creepy' parts sound more naturally achieved than the other, and that they sound like they've sprung from the well of a woman with a unique creative – and literal – voice.

The Age Of The Understatement is as solid an idea in execution as it is in concept; a record unafraid to reach beyond its obvious limitations and produce a swashbuckling end result that might even broaden a few horizons for fans and players alike.

A comparatively sterile shadow of its predecessor.

It’s a little overlong and occasionally flirts with being a vanity project, but What The Brothers Sang draws great strength from how much Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy and Dawn McCarthy clearly cherish these songs, and how much pleasure it gives them to share them with us.

A tight bind of rhythm and noise, of chugging menace and sudden spikes.

Grandfeathered is another distinguished addition to an already impressive body of work.

The thing is I wanted a Pretenders album, not The Black Keys feat. Chrissie Hynde. Which is what this all too often feels like.

Ghosts of Then and Now floats just out of time and is as versatile a record as they come--your interpretation will change with each setting and mood.

What is most interesting about this record, apart from it’s self-assured collection of off-beat laments is the amount of exciting doorways it flings open for the future.

The mood is buoyant, the instrumentation is varied and the childlike naivety runs rampant throughout.

As odd of a notion it is, as a setlist for a show, Weirdo Shrine is a miraculous endeavour to behold, but as an album, it suffers because of its untamed splendour.

Gripes aside, a good chunk of BORN LIKE THIS.. shows an angrier, more cynical, and, hell, maybe even better DOOM. A day may come when the mask starts to rust, but it's not just yet.

Non-Believers may disarm at first, but after a couple of listens this will quickly hook into the ears and heart as every Mac McCaughan venture does. This is his dusk album.

Like everything on L’Orange, L’Orange, the performance carries a naivety that only adds to the record’s stirring sense of innocence.

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.

Not that anyone really expected or wanted a laugh a minute, but whilst these 13 tracks are certainly eclectic in style, the atmosphere throughout, with the exception of the bubbling melodic analogue chug of opener ‘A New Error’, is almost uniformly bleak.

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

Overall, Process is a ferocious if at times delicately poised introduction to the incendiary world of Yvette, sonic adventurists extraordinaire.

A record that leaves no seam un-burst in its insatiable quest for mainstream adoration and success.

There’s only two real weak points to the album.... That’s it. The rest of this is good to great.

Considering the genre was built around reinventing itself at every corner, their long-term commitment to a fairly narrow sound may surprise some, but nevertheless, this is another strong entry in the Dutch Uncles catalogue.

It's an album heaving with ideas, but just coherent enough to stick together as one piece of work.

Whilst Bad Witch is definitely guilty of too much looking backwards there’s enough to keep us focused on what lies ahead.

In shedding his layers of pain, Pearson reveals his heart: broken and bloodied, but still beating, still fighting. We share and revere in his redemption, rarely has something so physically fragile sounded so mighty in its emotional resonance. A truly magnificent record.

The Fool often sounds like it was assembled by a spectacularly talented committee, like the minutes of the recording sessions are probably filed away in a sterile LA duplex somewhere.

There are plenty of fine moments in all the songs, whether it's a sudden burst of harmonies, or unexpected instrumental flourishes, from behind the singer.

Axe To Fall makes good with an appetite for reinvention.

There are hooks here, but they are scattered and often attached to tracks that come worryingly close to mediocre exercises in MOR.

1992 Deluxe is much more than just a cheap re-release of her breakout 2016 mixtape, it’s a complete reimagining. The record features 8 brand new songs that help to cement Princess Nokia as one of the key voices in modern hip hop.

‘Nurse’ is the closest to creating a landmark on parallel with ‘Daydream Nation’ they’ve come since that particular record's nameday in ‘88, and in it’s dense textures it maybe signals the extinction of the antediluvian No Wave idyll; a Robert Zimmerman trip that somehow got mixed up with Joni Mitchell, Black Flag and a conceptualist oddball.

Take Care, Take Care, Take Care is the auditory equivalent of a strawberry ice-cream on a sunny day and, however many times you might have tasted one before, it still counts as a treat.

Initial listens leave the impression that Volta is a top-heavy release, but as with Vespertine repeat visitations see the record smoothing and flattening out, with consistency becoming apparent over a shorter period of time than with many a Bjork LP before it.

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

If familiarity breeds contempt, regularity breeds complacency, and Deerhoof's prodigiously consistent output should not overshadow how precious they are.

Celebration Castle does rather suffer from a midsection slump.

An adrenaline-fueled head-rush of precision-perfect pop tunes about modern life.

Initially overwhelming, Gamel is a gloriously bonkers concoction of flavours that turns out to be extremely delicious indeed.

This is a solid attempt by a band in thrall to electronic music to redefine themselves, but it’s their love of this music rather than their ability to explore its limits that is communicated by Dilate.

This is a fine debut album.

Neo, the Seattle group’s debut, is as painfully Sub Pop as it gets, and it’s painful in a wonderful, wonderful way.

Slug at their very best are a live band, so I’ll take this album as a warm-up.

It's short (36 mins), but deep and heady, the sort of record that worms its way into your head and stays there, leaving a faint imprint on your psyche.

Schizophrenic, surreal and fantastic--that’s Ashes Grammar.

You Are All I See is all about the shimmer, as if rather than playing with cutting edge tech Grossi's touch is so deft, and the sound so seemingly in tune with the natural world, he somehow is able to play with light.