Live At The Cellar Door is a treasure chest that holds the glowing embers of a brilliant, already burgeoning career.

Patch the Sky is undoubtedly the record of someone not only haunted by their past but also the continuing difficulties faced in the present, but it is also a stunning example of Bob Mould’s resolve and ability to channel life, death, love and failure into two sides of meaningful and melodic music.

Turn Out the Lights is far from a happy album, but my word, it is riddled with joy.

July is a grown up album--but it’s not a cleaned up one: Marissa Nadler may flirt with the sun now, but still articulates the dark like no one else.

This is music that the listener can plunge into and summon up her own images and sense from.

This really does come very close to the top of the pile. An essential opus from a truly essential artist.

My Father Will Guide Me Up A Rope To The Sky sounds more like the essence of Michael Gira than the Angels Of Light ever did, and ought to also serve as another broadside to the idea of reformations being inherently grubby and uncreative ventures.

While Campbell's music hasn't done a complete U-turn and embraced sonic maximalism, the nine tracks on Hinterland benefit from greater depth, evident on even the sparsest cuts.

This is Willner's finest record yet, a composition of effortlessly gorgeous, technically fantastic, genuinely awe-inspiring music.

A record this willing to go the absolute distance to challenge expectations yet entertain and move so consistently should equally be heralded in such high regard [as Screamadelica], which in time, this will.

Superchunk have made a record that ties experience to the present, instinct to wisdom, youthful vigor to aged knowledge, everything in the world to a passion for music.

Hospice is an album of white walls, long desolate passages, and sudden blitzkriegs of high emotional drama – it’s not always comforting, but the players are hyper-attentive to the nuances of each note and lyric.

I Don’t Want to Let You Down as a whole serve only to fuel, rather than dent, the anticipation that Are We There rightly stoked.

Stetson is stepping it up a notch; inexplicably adding drama to the music that is already steeped in powerful emotional sensations.

The coherence of Tempest is the hypnotic key to its charm.

This is a hard, dark, inventive record that strongly suggests that give or take an imaginary sister and some fiddles, Jack White is pretty much the same boy we've always known.

Pleasant but forgettable-in-the-long term albums are, after all, a dime a dozen. But this does stand out as one of the best.

You know those radio jingles in which they stick a bunch of current tunes into a big-beat mess? This has the same effect – a whizzbang confectionary, serving more to advertise the band’s back catalogue than to be any kind of durable document.

He is, however, a radiant example of an artist with the ability at his fingertips to close the schism between the true avant-garde and the leftfield mainstream, and in this respect Until the Quiet Comes is the record to date we'll most likely crown his masterpiece.

Amygdala is a thoroughly immersive album, possessing so many layers that it seems to change upon each listen.

An hour of music which can be moving, transcendent, invigorating and relaxing all in a matter of minutes.

With its genre manipulation and intensely poetic, socially aware lyrics, Foil Deer is a stronger, more assertive record with more to say for itself.

It's just as loveably imperfect as its predecessor. The only shame is that it isn't more so.

Attack On Memory might be on surface a pretty routine blast of crashing percussion, throaty vocals and biting guitars but repeated listens reveal a more nuanced affair full of charisma and spark.

With a record possessing such an untamed imagination it’s fair to say that Abe Vigoda’s maddened prattle is a talent worth nurturing, whether soil in their teeth or blood on their knees.

There may be reference points aplenty throughout Nonagon Infinity and its creators make-up but King Gizzard & The Wizard Lizard sure know how to put their own spin on things. And in doing so have created their finest body of work to date.

case/lang/veirs is a record full of compelling, tender, starry energy.

Gargoyle is missing the emotive, musical draw that makes Langegan the tear-jerking, blues-poet that he really is.

Far from being frozen in time, Wildflower shows a willingness to move forward with a sense of personal history, but unhindered by obligations to it.

Even on a album where they might not produce a one off moment to rank up there with the best of their long career, the Beastie Boys are still inventive enough to make a rhyme about a shawl or "coming together like peanut butter and sandwiches" engaging, and by extension. Things wouldn't be the same without them.

After this confrontational opening ditty, Ill Manors becomes less overtly political but no less vivid, as the remaining tracks depict in gruesome detail the dismal lives of London's underclass.

It’s more immediate, more instantly gratifying and more technically proficient, but there are also dark, difficult corners which hint at hidden terror.

Unflesh is a truly brilliant piece of work, and the sound of an artist trailblazing through as of yet uninhabited territory--here's hoping it's only the beginning.

Skying is very much a record of polar extremes boshed into close proximity. Withdrawn and welcoming; subtly bold; gently hyperactive.

Raving, romantic and graceful, it's what might happen if Britpop had gone to finishing school, and even includes a final guitar treat for anyone who tuned in the hope of another round of Olympian.

Apocalypse is very literally a rewarding and difficult second album, with its roots in tragedy and loss and its furthermost fronds in hope and moving forward, an album that challenges listeners with an incredible level of subtlety, hidden depths and wash of openly expressed emotion.

The Walkmen have done it slightly different this time, but I guarantee that after hearing this album, the brilliance of Lisbon will stay with you for the entire day, no matter what color the sky sitting above.

Her lazy, beaten drawl is an acquired taste, and she wears her scars and bruises for all to see, but Lucinda Williams’ tear-stained tales are so vivid and evocative it’s hard not be haunted.

It's challenging yet fairly catchy beneath all the layering. It's abstract vocally yet painfully direct musically. It's not for most yet potentially has crossover appeal at its heart.

Beyondless is an ambitious and accomplished ride that will claim a deserved spot on most Best-Of lists this year. Wrap up warm: the ice age has arrived.

The mish-mash of styles on Dead makes for a globalised texture, an eclecticism that appears to know no bounds. For some, it may all be a little too much to handle. But if you’re looking for a thoroughly twenty-first-century record that’ll challenge your preconceptions and bombard the senses, then Dead is something that’s definitely worth your while.

Emma Pollock’s confident third solo album.

That music so majestically restrained in pace can make your heart beat so quickly is a testament to The Besnard Lakes’ focus and ability to coat each millisecond of track time with an utterly captivating sound without ever becoming clogged up with their myriad ideas.

Grinderman is a living, breathing beast, not a side project, but a tangible band capable of sparking off in different directions.

Stunning and dizzying, Sung Tongs’ strangeness will spin around your head for months to come.

Despite the handful of standout tracks, what makes Hidden unique is the way it flows as a cohesive whole.

Although some of the themes and content of the music may be a little heavy, Dare uses the most basic of tools available to him and us as humans to express himself--words.

The lines referenced in the album’s title are not the kind to restrict or limit. They’re the kind to follow. The lines of an open road, rich with possibilities and rife with unanswered questions. Though whether the road is in this reality or another, remains to be seen.

From the start, fifth album Mono No Aware strikes a different tone--one that personally gets me right in my soft spot.

It’s continuously changing, perfectly timed, evenly spaced--an impeccable album.

Wounded Rhymes is an album that has not escaped unscathed from its wounds.

Whereas other pop-punk bands revel in sheer stupidity, Superchunk conjure up a profound musical purpose and sense of wonderment from behind every goofy-eyed chorus and oversized hook line. It is bloody impressive to say the least.

Tasteful and tactful enough to use their wide range of influences, this is an impressive body of work that upholds the finest garage tradition: missed completely by the majority, but obsessed over and taken straight to heart by those who can’t resist their records a little on the rougher side.

The Hunter is a pitch for the mainstream--but it doesn't compromise on Mastodon's core ambition.

This emotive disc balances a hushed intimacy and vast expanse that places it in a unique sonic terrain.

Theirs is a career of true progressiveness, in every sense of the word. What was hinted at in parts on 2007's Grindstone has been, bettered, battered and even bludgeoned. Chalk up another one for Norway, then.

It's a worthy album for consideration should you find yourself browsing in a record shop of a Saturday afternoon and fancy something at once familiar and different.

His music really is art for the ears, with hues, colours, textures and aural brush strokes dripping with vibrancy and imagination.

It's astounding that AB can reel off so many downright enjoyable songs that it almost hurts.

There’s a rawness to this record that most new bands – sorry, most bands made up of new musicians – would do well to soak up.

An extremely compelling, beautifully articulated, bonafide masterpiece.

Everything from the minimal arrangements, to the briefly heard flutter of a page turning draws you into the world that Jófríõur and Ásthildur inhabited when they were making the album. They may have been apart for a while, but Sundur is proof that the musical connection between the two sisters is as strong as ever.

Black Noise manages to navigate the tightrope of expectation and creative vision with aplomb. It’s rich and meaty, the kind of album you can really get to know over a long period of time.

Under Color Of Official Right packs a dynamic punch from starting to finish, never outstaying its welcome at any point.

The whole thing is put together with such love that nothing ever feels like a burden, nor an obligation. First and foremost, this is an LP which can be enjoyed by anyone. You don’t need to know the album’s backstory to be swayed by its charm.

Visiter has a hidden treasure aspect implying future generations may be more willing to appreciate this album.

Accelerator's savage vitality hasn't diminished one iota in the intervening decade-and-a-half: quite what point it's ultimately trying to make remains typically elusive, but you get the sense that it's somehow been proved right in the long-run.

As an accompaniment to the original album--which I'm sure most people reading this will already own (and if you don't, you should)--it stands proud as a comprehensive update to a timeless record.

Goodnight Rhonda Lee never feels like a pastiche or a rip off of classic soul songs, but a celebration of the genre and life. Yes some songs could be trimmed a bit and maybe some of the motifs would be tighter, but overall this is an album by someone who knows exactly what she wants to say and how she wants to say it.

God’s Favourite Customer isn’t quite perfect - it lags in the final furlong as piano ballads are fallen back upon one too many times (the title track, ‘The Songwriter’) and lacks the unified overarching narrative of ...Honeybear--but it continues to showcase one of the finest songwriters of a generation.

While Smith uses this album as an outlet to explore a variety of different styles, importantly he never loses sight of the source material. Even so, in paying tribute to a great artist, Jamie XX has laid significant claims to being deserving of that title himself.

At its best, it’s the purest yet expression of Garbus’ exploration of the corporeal: an album with sounds you can see, a voice you can feel, and music you can all but touch.

It is, ultimately, an unimaginative album from a promising band. Better records may lie ahead for them, but for now they will struggle to reach far beyond their existing fanbase.

Out of all the stellar releases in 2014, this collaboration is the one which is most likely to stay with us all, and the one from which the most new conclusions will be made as years in the future, we’re still dissecting and seeking to understand the stories and emotions captured therein.

Age Of is a maddening, compelling, even thrilling record that feels like a conclusive summation of everything the Oneohtrix Point Never project has been (or even hinted at) to date.

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

So anyhow--crossover album of the year, no contest.

Over these ten songs Lenker continues to carve out the little slices of magic that at this stage we now fully expect from her.

This is a superb album by three supremely talented musicians. More than that, it is an ideal reminder of the perfection that--even in today’s digital climate--can still be reached through letting three such talents simply play in a room together. Undoubtedly one of the true highlights of 2018.

The bloat of Tigers and Postcards is gone without a trace; in its place is the sound of a band that’s slain the AOR dragon and finally got back to making the music they feel like making.

An activated rage focuses and elevates the album from standard melodic post-punk to a timely, resonant mission statement.

Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light II represents not only the most overt and successful attempt to capture the patience, subtlety and fluidity of Earth's talented cast, but also the most accurate document of their patient, stoical and determinedly psychedelic ethos.

O’Connor has a clarity of purpose and a truly unique sound that is perfectly suited to his vision of suburban nihilism.

There is something both abstract and individual and yet universal about the way that Harding writes and presents her trials and triumphs of the heart.

Luck In The Valley is a brilliantly strong record that reminds you both of Rose’s own majestic ability, and the playful power of these seemingly ancient and ‘primitive’ musical forms, something Rose understood as well as anyone.

Everything sounds fresh, new and different, but every song is still recognisably Wilco; it just sounds like Wilco at their best.

This album is a love letter, written in elegant cursive (and blood, obvs), for anyone and everyone that holds the underground to their heart.

Patchy, perhaps, but there's plenty over the course of American Gangster to suggest that, even if sullied by a lack of prolificacy, at least the Brooklyn beatnik is keeping the right company again.

Severant's biggest strength is its optimism--very few of the tracks here fall into introspection, with nearly all of them boasting a crystal ball looked into by the meanest of hawk-eyes.

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.

Slave Vows is--easily the finest guitar album The Icarus Line have produced since Aaron North precariously sprinted across a row of trembling amps to crash out the window and join Nine Inch Nails in 2005.

How to Stop Your Brain in an Accident is arguably the band's finest hour.

This is the next record you have to buy. Absolutely. Unequivocally.

In covering just three to four years of Lee Hazlewood's less readily available material The LHI Years mines a rich seam of individualistic pop genius, even the rump of which betters that found within the entire back catalogue of many artists.

Life Will See You Now doesn’t quite hit the heights of 2007-era Lekman, but in his mid-thirties, Gothenburg’s favourite son remains a vital artist. May it not be another five years before he returns.

An endearing, very likeable record indeed, and a confident first entry under the Flock of Dimes handle.

The group do not always connect perfectly on this album but when they do, it’s magical. Hive Mind celebrates musical collectivism and succeeds when it is at its most collaborative.

So slick is the production and so smooth is the transition from one moment to the next that Andorra suffers from an apparent reluctance to take us by the scruff of the neck and rattle us out of our mental Laconia.