There’s enough allure in Poison Season’s oddities to make it highly listenable.

By marrying the subtle ethereality of bands like MBV with the swashbuckling pomp of a modern-day Iggy, they are a band at once single-minded and confused.

Emmy the Great's debut is a triumph, with a maturity beyond her years, and with a humour no less enjoyable for being subtler.

In its imperfections Amphetamine Ballads occupies an especially human place. Saviours of rock n’roll? Nah. It doesn’t really need saving, and anyway this lot are far more about destruction. A modern classic? Just maybe.

Unlike other would-be indie-dance pretenders, this is properly danceable stuff; fat basses and catchy percussion beats are punctured by intoxicating keyboard motifs.

The Divine Comedy are, 26 years on from their debut and six on from Bang Goes the Knighthood, making a kind of pop music a million miles away from anyone more likely to touch the singles charts (assuming those are still a thing). It’s good to have them back.

The key to 'So Jealous' is that it's a mall-prancing hit jukebox but with, y'know proper non-bubblegum pop sensibilities.

Despite his various left turns, the one constant in Carlson’s work is the unrelenting hypnotic power of repetition, and a conviction that “the best music feels like the melody has been around forever.”

Claustrophobia feels richer and more worthy of exploring than the likes of ‘Hardbody’ or his Phenix releases.

This is Ash ready for stadiums, standing their ground and treating us to the kind of rock their heroes made.

Each song is chocked full of inventive counterpoints and melodies making it the most cohesive album Tiersen has released for a decade. With each listen you uncover another facet not just of of this complex and charming album, but of yourself too.

Gimme Some delivers more than a few pop songs, a legitimate pop album written with the subtlety of a band that has come to appreciate, instead of run from, their hit-making ability.

This feels like a deeper record than its predecessor, 2012’s well-received Blunderbuss, not as pretty but certainly sharper and more elegantly formed, something that’s reflected in the respective titles.

For the most part it's good. Very good.

Little Fictions, their seventh, is, reliably, a very good Elbow album.

Their most restrained and finely detailed record to date.

Overall, Spring Tides is the record Jeniferever have undoubtedly spent the past thirteen years of their existence building towards; an epochal moment that was well worth the wait, and can only whet the appetite in further anticipation of where their next journey of discovery will take them--in their own time, of course.

Much as it tries to be quirky and difficult, it is in fact a wonderfully satisfying listen.

BRMC’s third album is a triumph.

Like most of the album, “Soft Place to Land” is precise in language, but not in meaning. The album’s songwriting strength lies primarily in this sort of poesy, as effective as it is understated, and resisting paraphrase.

As it stands though, data Panik etcetera is still a hell of a ride, and though new ideas aren’t exactly widespread across its 12 tracks, it gets its kicks from perfecting bubblegum-stomp electro party post-pop, and does so rather thrillingly.

This isn’t a few Eighties synth presets stuck through a distortion pedal--it’s music that resonates far beyond a simple aping of well established precedents, often managing to be funny, sad and thought provoking in the space of a single track.

It's fair to say Smoke Ring...'s reliance on gloom and loneliness rarely lets up. But he's trying to find beauty in it, which I guess is the point.

Going, Going..., the group's ninth record, is full of bizarre twists and turns that make it unlike any album they have released to date.

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

Though The Night is Young may start in relatively familiar territory, it soon branches out and is possibly the most diverse record he’s produced as yet.

Now we have Accelerate; the actualisation of a new found urgency. Gratifyingly short at under 35 minutes, it’s a summation of much that is or was great about R.EM.: wordy proclamations by Stipe, ringing Rickenbacker trills by Buck and lush backing vocals by Mills.

It’s this seamless motion and playful interplay that makes Polar Bear such a thrill; they seem to know exactly what to do and when – when to surprise, when to comfort, when to excite, when to calm.

There's plenty of interesting stuff going on throughout.

It works, if possibly only because Kevin Barnes is ridiculous enough to believe it works. And that is the genius of Of Montreal.

With this album we find Johnny Flynn striding comfortably and confidently into his own future, and whatever the reception to this record, it’s looking bright for this thoughtful and intrepid musician.

Purer than innocence and richer than gold, No One Can Ever Know confirms that The Twilight Sad are simply too good to remain a-little-less-than-well-known outside the restrictive realms of slightly-less-than-world-conqering 'zines.

Swing Lo Magellan, then--deadly serious even at its most eccentric, wilfully awkward even at its most accessible, dense and intricate even at its most freewheeling. Same as it ever was.

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.

A realistic, delightful and emotionally accessible record.

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

If you were a fan of Inside Llewyn Davis, this a great way to bring the film to life a little more and to expand on the world which inspired it, and also a quality live album in its own right.

The Straight Hits! might not have the visceral punch of The Texas-Jerusalem Crossroads or the openness of Last of the County Gentlemen but it has more than its fair share of moments, even if Pearson admits breaking several of the five rules, but obeys an unwritten Sixth Pillar: musical rules are made to be broken.

It's that all-too-rare example of a band combining myriad shared influences (early Blur, Radiohead, Suede... The Faint?) into something that seems to exist only in its own brilliant context, regardless of trends or cultural norms.

Mason might have a lot of worries on his mind, but he’s managed to express them beautifully here.

Sure, there are those who might be after an In Ghost Colours part two who might be alienated by this album's evident ambition, but for most of us, this is going to be a serious upping of the game.

Mature Themes is more detailed, more developed, more everything than its predecessor. It's nauseating and beautiful, troubling and hilarious.

There are still places to go, but this is an early contender for album of the year.

Fortunately, the role of curator suits Cunningham's talents, and despite the choppy mixing and non-continuous programming, DJ-Kicks never feels as alienating and outright strange as some of his past mixes.

This album is chock full of more cast iron monster tunes than any mainstream rap LP this century.

No one concept album, even one with the complexity of America, could ever hope to fully address the manifold problems of the USA, but in searching for his own answers Dan Deacon has crafted an unique testament to this fact and to his own inimitable, and ever increasing, talents.

On the Water is surely one of the most unconventionally beautiful records of the year.

The band have taken on an ambitious project, and have pulled it off with much aplomb.

10 Futures categorically sounds like an album that was made for the sake of it, for the joy of it.

Face Control, the new record by Handsome Furs (Alexei Perry and Dan-from-Wolf-Parade), sounds like "Born in the USA," if the Boss had allowed a little more evil in the mix, and tried replicating Alan Vega’s demented yelps. Yeah, it’s THAT good...

Overall then, a triumph for instrumental music that’s more than genre-hopping: it’s genre-reviving.

It's simply another great album by an indescribably great band.

If Björk’s last two albums were impersonal voyages of artistic license and collaboration, Vulnicura is deeply personal and so much more rewarding for it.

Although not quite possessing the gobsmacking "WOW!" factor of Veronica Falls' debut, Waiting For Something To Happen is an often revealing and utterly compelling follow-up that is sure to feature in many an end-of-year best of list come December.

The shining jewels in Forever Sounds’s crown are the ones where Warner takes centre stage, and shines a light on her own cryptic narratives.

Before the World Was Big is a record that will help you appreciate the 'good old days' whilst you're still in them; it's a record that will make you feel okay about the unsettling aspects of the future and it's a record that will make you wanna hug your pals and never let them go.

For all its awkwardness, for all its outrage in major chords, it's ultimately hopeful. Sure, there are some bum notes, but it's music with passion. It makes you want to DO something, and that is what a real protest album is really about.

Ultimately, depending upon how you felt about their last record Mirror Mirror is either a return to, or continuation of, form.

Essentially, if you like the sound of men that sound like they drink a lot and make a lot of bad decisions in life, have people die around them and then like to sing about it, set to a raucous soundtrack of guitars, drums and piano... then Strange Boys are pretty adept at all of those things.

Overall it's about as perfect as introduction to the band as you're likely to get, and perhaps a timely chance to give the Archers an opportunity to climb back into the upper echelons of your record collection.

It strikes the prefect balance: accessible, yet with enough idiosyncrasy to make it more than just a formulaic retread of past glories.

Put simply, CollectiV is a masterclass in supremely executed rock and roll.

Thou’s consistency makes their records somewhat overwhelming. Magus’ arrival via Sacred Bones makes it likely to become many listeners’ first Thou album. Whether it is suitable for such a position, given the more concise appeal of the band’s first three full-lengths, is questionable. Nonetheless, much like the question of whether this is the band’s finest work to date, such doubts should not distract from the fact that Magus is a successful affirmation of Thou’s place as being amongst the greatest heavy bands on the planet.

Their fifth album continues the work done on their last, 2011’s Hello Sadness, the emotional context and sentiments much sharper, painfully so in some cases, with big, lovely pop hooks on even their starkest tracks.

Shorn of Brownstein's intricate guitar playing, Weiss' wonderfully impatient drums and her USP: The Tool, The Voice, Tucker is operating at brave distance from her comfort zone. In doing so she's unveiled a whole lot of other things she's good at.

The Unthanks have never been gentle background music as some might expect, as they’re always drawn to the darker stories that they can dig up. On Mount The Air, those stories are matched by some sumptuous, confident music, and they sound all the better for it.

Erland and the Carnival make good at being a group who successfully accent their modern indie rock with olde world aspects of folk in a much more effective manner than so many acoustic troubadours.

The quiet simplicity of these songs is better suited to Fink’s lone voice, clear without a jumble of voices and complex harmonies, strengthening the continuity of the storytelling.

In the broader context of British alternative music, it cements Frightened Rabbit at the creative peak of the folk-crossover scene.

With Two Thousand and Ten Injuries Love Is All have created another master class in yearning, defiant, confused and lovelorn indie-pop, the sort of record you wish you had by your side when you were stuck re-heating cheeseburger puffs* for minimum wage in one of Essex’s premier petrol station.

Throughout the album DM Stith acts a man far off into the galaxy, oscillating between space and sound, and without much vocalizing, extends a gracious hand to the listener as well.

On one end, it sounds like a straightforward film score. In another instance, it's perfect headphone music for self-study or personal contemplation.

With a soundtrack that captures the spirit of the comics with such fervency, conviction and discipline, Scott Pilgrim vs The World looks set to be a lot less dislikable than you might've hoped.

Dr. Dog are a band you know you're going to appreciate as soon as you reach the first chorus. You'll want to go back and explore their back catalogue, and force them on unappreciative friends.

Latin doesn't have a weak moment, and while LP's higher energy levels may indeed play better with that lucrative Top Shop demographic, it would seem remarkable if any right thinking fan of the band didn't think Latin at least its equal.

Ultimately the Swede’s absorption into his own mind gives him the throat of a man who sounds in control. This control is one of the things that make Kortedala Lekman’s most assured, comfortable record yet.

Like Arab Strap with bellbottoms and flower necklaces in place of the drum machine, Shapiro and Green are a match made in heaven who explore every corner of romantic hell.

Rainwater Cassette Exchange confirms--Deerhunter may never make a loud or abrasive album again, but they have other, deeper fires, burning away fierce as ever.

An incredibly warm and organic sounding debut.

It’s the boorishness of their football hooligan fanbase, the bravado that they failed to deliver on in their later years and the all-consuming nature of the brothers’ public personas that you really need to put to one side when you listen to records like this one; if you can manage that, and overlook the cynical nature of this release, then you’re left with three discs that contain a generous selection of some of the finest rock songs that a British band ever produced.

Ardor bides its time and it was made by a band brave enough to create music and a track listing that allows this spectacle of a record to satisfying inch towards a riveting pitch. It’s an album that evokes the ear blistering noise of Sunn O))) but it’s also emotionally charged music.

The Soft Moon's mission to transcend all levels of tolerance and pleasure via the conduit of sound is well and truly accomplished.

Whilst Hanne's music has evolved since her debut Little Things in 2004, Featherbrain is an album that pulls various strands of that development together to make something new.

The great thing about rkives, though, is that as much as it constitutes an absolute boon for long-time fans, it works as a fine introduction to the band on its own merit.

The rock these four men so easily brandish is every bit the equal, if not the better, of that deployed by so-called peers half their age.

Warrior is never dull, always fun, and frequently a thrillingly unpredictable ride.

The album traverses a rich genre spectrum and incorporates contrasting moods and atmospheres that make for an exciting listen.

Present Tense might lack the immediacy of both Smother and Two Dancers, but scratch away at the surface and its a record oozing with the precision and maturity we've come to expect from its creators. And in all honesty, it would be churlish to ask for anything more.

Every track has something distinct to capture the imagination, but it is the vocal range that is particularly interesting.

Shrines is the sound of the air beneath your bed whispering when you rest.

Having always been celebrated for his subtle wit and labyrinthine approach to pop writing, he continues to weave genius from his own mental dictionary.

This album isn’t for you if you like your music handed to you on a plate. It’s not for you if you want constant twists and turns. It is for you if you’re seeking a suite of songs to immerse, and ultimately to lose yourself in.

Dark Young Hearts shines with talent, pop tunes with those secret corners you think were put there just for you to spot. Lyrical flaws aside, it's an indelible mark of grandeur on our decaying decade.

The sisters show an ability to pull different sounds and shapes together to make something extremely enchanting and really very lovely.

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.

The songs from St. Vincent that you’ll return to umpteen times are front-loaded into its first 23 minutes.

There’s genuine replay value here, even if the recording of it took about half as long as the convoluted fictional biography (complete with Photoshopped fake album covers) in the liner notes.

If debut In The Court Of The Wrestling Let's was the giddy spin of a colour wheel, then Nursing Home feels ever so slightly more unified in tone and shade, and, if not exactly refined, than certainly a little tighter and more focused in its abandon.