Patience is an album made by a band reaching the pinnacle of its powers. Their ability to merge indie, soul, electronica, gospel and give it a sheer pop sets them apart from their peers.

To have taken the most complex psychological crisis and distilled it into a record which is not only so powerful but also so coherent and assured is awe-inspiring. Malody is a towering testimony to the power of song and marks the (re)birth of an exceptional artist.

A remarkable record that simply demands your attention.

Minor Victories is a thoughtful and regal opening bow, but you’ll want for a little more teeth when Act Two comes into play.

Ending on a crashing waterfall of an outro and coming in at just under 27 minutes, Ha, Ha, He. leaves the listener desperate for more.

Yes the songs are catchier and slightly better executed, and the music evokes a by gone era but remains grounded in the modern world so it’s not a pastiche, but it all sounds, well, too safe.

For now, Tegan and Sara have reached the end of a thorny, awkward path to pop perfection. Those years of uncertainty have only sweetened the realisation.

The sense of worship for the genre [dance pop] is laid on a bit thick sometimes too, even in the titles (see ‘Face 2 Face’, ‘Going Thru the Motions’ and ‘(Don’t) Wannabe’). So maybe the thing Kristin needs most is a sense of uniqueness.

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.

There are points on the album when the true Dexys shine through, but a lot of the time the band’s actual sound seems lost behind lush production, and that is a shame for a group of such obvious pop writing talent.

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.

Because Ash & Ice somewhat ironically doesn’t have much of the icy immediacy that typically marks The Kills’ work, the album is one you need to live with to get the full payoff.

Stranger to Stranger’s effect is most potent when there’s some interplay between a complex, danceable groove and a salient philosophical offering.

For all their weirdo mangled machine noise, it feels like they’ve reached a beautiful plateau--a perfect crossroads between all their disparate elements, finely tuned and full of vigour.

Jakes and the band have so much inherent chemistry the flaws almost don't matter: the likes of 'Diamond Days' and 'Jaws of Hell' temporarily make the little misfires an afterthought.

PUP’s second record is one of moments and contrast--huge musical and lyrical leaps forward, some magical trickery and sleight of hand, a few stumbling mis-steps and finally a huge bright, beaming light offering this budding band a path to follow down which they can flower, grow and hey, maybe one day, not be quite so fucking hard on themselves.

While Part II is broadly a success, it is a qualified one. Lines often come across as clunky and trite.

At times Kidsticks feels a little uneven. Tempos and timbres shift regularly, never allowing the listener to truly settle into one mode, or gain a true sense of what is the coherent sonic voice at the heart of the album. That is, apart from Orton's voice itself, which has never sounded better or more in control.

Familiar ground is where they’re most comfortable, and they still haven’t worked out how to successfully expand their horizons beyond that.

Not everything on By Default is misogynistic, mind, it’s just that when the lyrics aren’t threatening or creepy, they make [any] sense.

Middleton has made a dance record for the disenfranchised, oh sure it's a cliché, but Summer of '13 is one of the most refreshing things you hear all year. Come on you miserable bastards, this here is the soundtrack to your summer of '16.

Choppy beats and rhythms along with shuffling percussion helps create a feeling of urban movement and flux. There is a swagger to the songs that is hard to ignore--Panda has created the album that he has always hinted at.

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

When the music is less overwhelming, you notice that July knob-twiddler Randall Dunn’s clean production and Nadler’s move away from the depths of morbidity have changed something about her music.

Pantha Du Prince describes The Triad as 'about more human ways of interacting... about meeting up and jamming' and, in many ways, it does resemble something close to a jam session where unpolished but great ideas are worked out to be developed more fully later.

A debut album containing no filler whatsoever, and a record that mirrors the ferocious intensity of those live shows to boot.

Perhaps the worst crime is that Ashcroft never even gives that wonderfully expressive voice of his a proper workout; he hasn’t written anything here that demands he really go for it. Instead, These People is an album that’s so safe, it’s almost dangerous.

Earrings Off! is undoubtedly a brave, intriguing release, and should cement Adult Jazz as a band you really can’t afford to ignore.

It’s overblown, it’s almost too much to take in, it's got a sizeable chunk of dodgy singing, and it’s way too long--and as such it’s a wonderful tribute to The Grateful Dead, unlikely to ever get topped.

I Still Do is solid, unspectacular blues. Take Clapton’s voice out and this could be one of those Jules Holland collections they promote at weekends on Radio 2.

What we have to deal with is a record we already fully understand, a record that we can’t project our own ideas on to, and that’s a shame. It’s nice to dream every now and then, Adam. Let us dream.

It’s the most complete body of work that Broder has ever put together, as Fog or otherwise, and bursts with creativity and commitment.

Because of its unusual structure, Holy Ghost rarely manages to play to all of its strengths at once. It’s a bold choice, both interesting and admirable in its way, but it’s hard to get past the fact that it undoubtedly lifts towards its conclusion--building towards an energy it never properly inhabits.

While there is still plenty of those addictive sonic downpours, The Colour in Anything is arguably Blake’s most create cloudburst to date.

Thorburn splits his calculated kookiness into two halves: rote indie synthpop vying for your Noughties nostalgia on Taste, and straightforward, more-of-the-same twee rock that also vies for your Noughties nostalgia on Should I Remain Here At Sea?.

Thorburn splits his calculated kookiness into two halves: rote indie synthpop vying for your Noughties nostalgia on Taste, and straightforward, more-of-the-same twee rock that also vies for your Noughties nostalgia on Should I Remain Here At Sea?.

Composition is one of Bailey's specialties, and she quickly rebounds from even the tiniest missteps.

Yak have nailed their debut album, and exceeded the high expectations put on them from the beginning. Don't let them pass you by.

There's no romance on this album. Nothing shine a stark white light on reality. As they always have.

Once more, Ellery James Roberts finds himself with a unique project that may well burn so intense that there are no corners left to light.

There's plenty of promise to find within Arbor Labor Union's sanguine psych, but there's still a little further to go before the pinecones become trees with any real weight about them.

It is a formidably layered, beautiful record that largely lacks big hooks or aggressive bite, and yet conspires to be endlessly satisfying on a micro level, a clutch of ballads that represent the band's most intricate musical trip.

While perhaps not as immediate or instantly accessible as Eagulls, it represents a marked progression for a band seemingly intent on developing themselves at every possible juncture.

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.

Testarossa is an album that gets better with each listen.

It is chocked full of majestic pop hooks, but these are offset by ad-hoc rhythms and synths. Trágame Tierra is a remarkable album, but you’ve got to give it a chance.

This release strikes the perfect balance between pummelling the listener over the head with riffs and rewarding their shredded eardrums with hooks and honesty.

Drake is far too talented to turn in an album of dregs, and a lot of the content featured of Views is of the same breed of quality we would expect, like the instantly contagious 'Grammys', featuring Future. But for him to be so often contented with merely satisfactory results is somehow much more disappointing than a total failure.

Setting out its tracklisting in almost chronological order of release makes Another Splash Of Colour an even more engaging listen.

Nerrisimo is indeed a dark piece of work, but it’s all the more sublime for it.

By far the most accessible and pop-sounding recordings he has recorded in years, here the ship Eno references might serve the dual function as symbolising his own soul finding tranquility in the music once again.

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.

X-Treme Now is an intriguing, often entertaining bit of art from a duo that seem locked into a long-running lark that sometimes, perhaps accidentally or even incidentally, delivers the genuine article, sometimes makes do with platitudes and sidelong, distancing glances, but more often than not is a summery slab of fun.

The mix of genres and presentation doesn’t always segue as well as they might, and strangely given that mix, it could do with being a little more radical at times. That said there’s plenty to enjoy and it’s often fun to hear these iconic works in unfamiliar fashion.

Musically it’s the first half of the album that shows us a new side of Beyoncé, one that thrives in dark atmospheres and minimalism in a way her music never did before.

Last Evenings on Earth is as vast and sprawling as their self-titled debut, yet at the same time it’s concise and refined.

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.

The first few tracks on Oh Inhuman Spectacle set a high bar not quite maintained throughout, but still, the record is a promising début and a perfect soundtrack for those mysterious twilight hours.

In concert, the results of these expanded horizons will sit among an enhanced and emboldened set list. On record, though, this feels an uneven entry; too self-conscious in its attempt to transcend the expectations of contemporary Welsh language music.

Imarhan is the sound the band have spent their whole lives perfecting and it comes across like a best of. Given that they've probably got a lot more in the back catalogue that didn't make the cut for this album, there's definitely more to come from the Imarhan arsenal, but this is a great start.

The contrasting movements, the peaks and troughs, the brightness and darkness and the intensity and calmness allow you room to think and to breathe. Triangle is truly massive and mesmerising.

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

At just 39 minutes long, it’s spectacularly brief, especially for Dälek (2007’s Abandoned Language, for example, stretches to 63 minutes) but brevity here works in their favour, as there’s very little fat that needs trimming.

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

Despite his vocal inflexions bearing more than a passing resemblance to those of the great man, he is a formidable artist in his own right with an ever-expanding canon of powerful and affecting songs. Not everything works quite as well.

This is a record of sweeping complexity, that captures the raw energy Deftones have always thrived upon without eschewing the benefits of an intelligent eye being cast over the production.

On the opening ‘Distant Dream’, where a nagging, urgent keyboard line recalls classic Halloween-era Carpenter, until the creepy effect is undermined by some big, thumping power-drums that come off as more dated than retro. Its an ongoing problem across a record that is often enjoyable, but just as often frustrating.

Channeling both experience and innocence into his first solo collection. Against all odds, Omori has conjured up a solid debut that should ensure a bright future lies ahead.

It’s clear that the 33-year-old has lived and lost, and drunk and cried, but has emerged from it all as a special talent.

The music is exquisitely played, impeccably arranged and the lyrics are thoughtful and esoteric. The only problem is that it's a bit of a grower.

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.

This isn’t a revivalist vanity project, oh no, it’s full of contemporary production and composition, as you’d expect given Cook’s crucial CV.

Human Performance sees Parquet Courts deliver ideas with laser accuracy.

The album is recognisable in name only. Only a few songs register in their entirety as actual conceivable moments that the artist would have presumably been comfortable releasing.

As a whole, Singing Saw is Morby’s best work.

Their most restrained and finely detailed record to date.

Dead may not improve on Dying’s blueprint, but it is far more than just an interesting experiment. It rigidly follows the band’s self-sabotaging ethic, whilst giving genuinely imaginative versions of songs that were never meant to be remixed.

Overall, Distortland represents the kind of mix and match bag of tricks we've come to expect from The Dandy Warhols and while not quite attaining classic status, is a welcome return for a band who've never been afraid to stick two fingers in the face of adversity.

Across Crab Day, though, there is a lightness to Le Bon’s arrangements. She doesn’t go for dramatic shifts in tempo or tones, which makes subtle additions more obvious.

Sometimes it can feel like wading through mucky water, but it’s far from a bad trip; more like a damn fine party that will no doubt find its home in many fields during the summer months.

On #N/A the skill of the trio (plus one) is more than evident, it’s just a shame they didn’t try and inject just a little more variety into the mix as well.

With one less guitarist, bass lines lie exposed more often than before; the riffs that should sheath them are scorched, ripped, patched. Even without reading into the lyrics, songs like 'Running All Over the Wicket' stab with enough Melvins-ish menace to draw blood. And where other albums offered some reprieve from the violence (like 'City of Exploded Children' or 'French Lessons'), there’s no rest in sight here.

It makes you puzzle its meaning, ponder on it, burrow nagging ideas into your head. And it is another stupendous record, of the sort nobody else is making, or probably could make.

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

In itself, this serves as testament to Hecker’s ever more potent ability to make music that feels alive, that is successful on both a physical and mental level.

This still feels exactly like the record they had to make, and there are startlingly good stretches to be found, but there’s enough of a disconnect between the songs to make it a slightly jarring experience.

There is some devastating music on Are You Serious, and there is some beautiful music, too; often these passages are one and the same. It sounds like a natural progression for Andrew Bird, yet in places it’s like nothing you’d expect from the singer. It is, for these reasons and many more, a triumph.

Indeed, they can rock. But, inevitably, their writing here lacks the epic imagery and themes that cemented the rock gods into the canon, and thus doesn’t bewitch in the same way. Black Mountain defend the temple ably, at least.

Junk is purely for Anthony Gonzalez. In that regard, it is indeed his most personal work. It is indeed a statement, though a cheap and hollow one, worthy of its title. Frankly, you expect better.

The thing is absolutely laced with wall-to-wall bangers.

Feelin Kinda Free could be the best apocalypse soundtrack you’ll ever hear.

Next Thing is an honest but beautified version of the mixed-up life of a city kid. The most interesting thing moving forward will be seeing how Kline's songwriting approach shifts shape.

It’s not a step forward, really, it’s a step to the side. There are still hints of the pop star Zayn was drowning out the RnB icon he wants to become.

Where this album sets itself apart is with Roche, her contributions otherworldly and out of time, strange Wicker Man chants both charming and sinister. Her siren song laces Amen & Goodbye's best moments.

It takes some talent to blend elements of metal, prog rock, classic electronica (Brian Eno has been an acknowledged influence, and Rogerson will be releasing a collaboration with him in the near future), techno and hip hop into an album, but Three Trapped Tigers have pulled it off so convincingly here that it makes some of their previous material look unfairly clunky in comparison.

All in all Explosions In the Sky still retain their vitality in strong melody and melodramatic disposition, it’s just at times you wish they were a little more daring.

The list of reasons to be angry have grown exponentially in the brief intervening period, so it only makes sense that Mirror is the way it is. Staring into the abyss is rarely this stupefying and spectacular.

Atomic is a soft reset that will allow the band to move in new directions in the future. Its curiosity is infectious and immensely exciting, and it sounds like the result of a group refreshed, hungry and eager to grow.