There’s something horrific about this record; it’s possessed by an indefinable evil that permeates every song.

The mayhem, the confusion, the hysteria, Holter has learned to embrace all of it, and by reflecting it honestly in her music, she has shown the rest of us that whilst we live in alarming times, empathy and love continue to stand strong. Aviary will be a challenging listen for many, but its message needs to be heard.

Jinx is a much more personal record than its creators have cut in the past.

While in recent years the work of Autechre has widened to include bursts of melody alongside their cut-and-paste sonic structures, it’s here on 'Untilted' that Booth and Brown get the mixture right.

They've made a modestly magnificent record that entirely validates this reformation.

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.

Like many of his records, it's more of a collection of songs than a 'play from beginning to end' affair.

Glass’s voice, too, is the same that’s been luring lusty seamen onto the rocks for millennia, but the way it and the drums are textured--so that the machines they’re passed through sound like they’re melting away--brings Crystal Castles to the outer edges of greatness.

Paperwork a is worthy listen because it contains all the elements that had us take notice of volcano!

Toward The Low Sun finds Dirty Three functioning at a consistently (and characteristically) high level--offering nine varied and concise pieces showcasing the gauntlet of their past successes, performed with a vitality which decimates any accusation of retread.

On The Crying Light, Antony acts as a conduit between popular music and the avant-garde, and if that’s not a mark of greatness, what is?

Almost universally, Immunity is an album which puts a well-placed confidence in rewarding the patience of the listener, melding together current club trends with a vulnerable humanity to create an hour-long arc of total immersion.

By shirking an introspective approach, he has succeeded brilliantly in wending a line between intricacy and intimacy. The output is a genuinely majestic creation, brimming with a richness of substance to both enthral and devastate.

A knotty, messy work: a series of interior monologues depicting some unsavoury but very human sentiments; a sprawl of devastating emotion wrought with a keen yet weary eye. But it’s undoubtedly a triumph--Kasher hasn’t sounded quite this sharp in years.

Gorgeous, exquisite... and no, definitely not a side-project.

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

If you had Nada Surf down as a one-hit wonder indie band that should remain sidelined to compilation tapes, then the magnetic glory of this album will turn your head.

With Mines, Menomena have shown that they are a trio of reliably progressive, thoughtful musicians.

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

Darling Arithmetic is rarely anything but elegant.

Beacons Of Ancestorship is pretty much what the avid Tortoise fan would consider par for the course, in that its a veering cascade of inherent surprises that never fails to astound, amaze or disappoint.

It is more fluid, more subtle; as such, it pulls you in gradually, irresistibly, its icy black under-current taking hold when you least expect it.

The versatility shown here adds yet another notch to Drug Church’s (and Kinlon’s) bedpost as one of the most exciting bands around in a genre that doesn’t often do much experimentation or progression.

This comes highly recommended as an appetiser.

While there will always be the criticism that a Wooden Shjips record is a merely an acquired taste of familiar morsels, the ripened fruits within never fail to satisfy the palette on every count, and even though some of Vol. 2 may be three years old, its a more than worthy addition to anyone's sonic menu.

Qualm is a record of fiery, analogue experimentations and jams, executed by one of the most informed specialists in weird, retro gear and obscure electro rave. Hauff turns up the Hauffist sound up to ten. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but the kids in Berghain will love it.

Engaging and fulfilling, it stands out as one of the most unique and confident records of Weaver’s career so far, with the nagging and thrilling feeling that so much more is waiting to emerge given the scope of her talents.

By balancing their instinctive, intricate side within a tight, concise framework, White Denim have created something that’s both accessible and unorthodox.

This isn’t background noise, it demands your attention through its rich and layered compositions. But it's never overly fussy, rather it’s maximalism through a less is more approach.

The (mostly) astoundingly energetic Family is further justification of this band's fast rise and an album The Cast of Cheers can be proud of.

Jukebox is an unsurprising album. It sounds exactly how you'd expect–-classic, but not overly well known, songs, like Dylan's 'I Believe In You,' squeezed by the Cat Power sound into tracks that sound like they could feature on "The Greatest."

Transverse is an exhilarating collection that becomes a new listening experience on every subsequent hearing.

For longtime fans, a dubbed-out Grace Jones begets an exotic retelling of her myth, like painting a Sherman tank in watercolours - sure it's pretty, but under those runny dub brushstokes is hidden a killing machine.

While they may never lose their tendency to peek over their shoulders and tell of the heart-filling past once in a while, and nor should they, it seems that Allo Darlin’ have decided that a step forward can bring a greater, more tangible joy, and for that, they should surely be celebrated.

Arc is an album with which deep engagement will reward and delight in equal measure.

Assured, short and ultimately sweet, Friendly Fires is a glib reminder that you don’t need an M6 underpass, New York penthouse or guestlist to have an all night disco party, and remind us there’s no shame in getting your groove on.

Carrying almost nothing in the way of flab, Blood Red Shoes is the band standing entirely on their own four feet--a rare occurrence in modern music. They've not reinvented the musical wheel, but their strength as a unit, and as musicians, cannot be doubted.

It’s kind of sloppy, but it also sounds pretty astonishing cranked up loud, and despite the mixed emotional messages I suspect it’ll find its calling this summer as the band’s most fun album.

‘You Are The Quarry’ sees Morrissey back in the ring, lean, limber and fighting fit.

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.

The Habitat EP shows the heart of a band who are effortlessly versatile and willing to mutate, experiment and push in whichever direction they goddamn please.

It’s a talent for smallness in spite of showy surroundings, an Englishness that’s as convincing as anything Jamie T, Mike Skinner or Lily Allen has produced, infiltrating the upper echelons of the American music establishment.

His third studio album, Astroworld, feels like the grand opening of a vision that took a half-decade to perfect, still using the same psychedelic synth warps, diamond-cut drums, and reptilian hooks that initially skyrocketed him to stardom.

The album is called I Want You To Destroy Me and all it wants to do is live.

All of Cass McCombs' deliberate ambiguities add up to a beguiling character worth shouting about, even if he's not willing to do it himself. Give this album a spin and join its gently strident fan base.

With Trans Love Energies, Death in Vegas do well to avoid such pitfalls, instead creating an album that is musically and thematically filled with space, both roomy and outer.

From high drama to mystery, tension to grandeur, just about every feeling and emotion is touched upon in the 34 tracks on offer. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a seasoned gamer or simply interested in the genesis of electronic music; the innovative, evocative sounds on offer here will transport you to distant, vibrant pixel-based lands.

Andy Stott seems to be evolving with each new EP, and scales new heights with this one.

When they do finally depart after a handful of shows later this month, Woman's Hour find themselves in the fairly unique position of having a small but well formed catalogue of work that's near flawless. As a result, Ephyra is a fitting epitaph.

What Shobaleader One does is strike a finer balance between the accessible and the surreal than pretty much all of Jenkinson's previous releases. It retains all the elements that are recognisably Squarepusher but manages to filter them through this newly polished lens and thrusts it into a new, invigorating stream of light.

They have always had an unabashed sensibility for writing three-minute pop songs and this record is stuffed full of them. The Futureheads have made exhilarating order out of The Chaos.

Stanger Today is the sound of a band doing what they want, knowing how to do it and, most importantly, having a blast doing it.

Dare’s vocals have lost none of their emotive brutality; the juxtaposition between his delicate voice and the brutal messages he conveys still fascinates, just as his experiments with heavy synth and drone alongside a solitary piano sound impossible, yet somehow work.

A beautiful mix allows the elements of each of the tracks to truly breathe and settle in their own spaces.

Their output remains honest, unsullied and socially conscious--it’s still got all the bark and bared teeth of a Boston terrier, and the drinking songs are still out in force, but there’s a message of hope at its core that espouses all the values that are held so dear to the contemporary punk scene.

You’ll need a breather or two, for sure, but that’s the nature of great horror, regardless of what supernatural forces you choose to worship.

When it's at its best, After Roberts harbours a brave sense of adventurism, a fearless experimentalism. And yes, it can sound like a million other things. But more often that not, it's just the glorious sound of nothing else.

It's got an edge, moreso than Astro Coast, and that element of creeping unease makes Pythons a fuller, more mature and honest album than its precursor.

For all its stylistic diversity--bluegrass, bossa, jazz and electro all get a look in--and voracious internationalism, Floating City is a work with an identifiable centre.

Whereas at times in the past it seemed like he was searching for his place in the crowded field of modern singer-songwriters and in danger of sounding too much like others, here he clearly finds his own voice. ... This is a really fine album.

The Mindsweep is Enter Shikari at their most inspirational and consistent and as a result, their best record yet.

As a whole, perhaps unsurprising to those well-versed in the band’s skyscraping sonic feats, Electric Lady Sessions is an affecting appetiser with riveting moments strewn throughout the 12-song compilation.

For those exhausted by a modern landscape, where playing a game of spot the musical reference is de rigueur when approaching every new release, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today is certainly a welcome relief.

The remastered first disc makes up for the lack of any truly juicy bonus material, being that it's a great album in itself, and is more than worth the price tag.

The song quality is set on an upward trajectory from start to end, with the last two tracks also distinguished by their fleshed out arrangements.

Endless Falls is the most complete version of Morgan's vision for Loscil to date. It's an album that's easy to get lost in after a few cursory wanders into the ether, where the amalgamation of barely-musical sounds sucks you in and seems to produce something different every time.

This is a beautifully composed album and one which frequently feels like a blessing that we even get to hear it at all.

It’s exhausting. And while collecting and devouring his albums is probably a more satisfying journey, to be delivered this trove of Fifties big band funk and perverted doo-wop, and to see it spiral out into interstellar space-jams in a stop-motion fashion is a huge thrill. Singles provides the first real opportunity for an audience to hear how Sun Ra became Sun Ra.

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.

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.

As a debut, as a mark in the sand, Gracious Tide, Take Me Home is an endearing and beautifully drawn modern folk record

Other than the production, Tell Me I’m Pretty sits very much in the same league as Melophobia--a confident, eclectic rock record with heaps of personality and charm.

This is a confident, electrifying, weirdo-pop stormer of an album that deserves your attention.

It’d be rather too easy to sketch this as a record suitable only for chewing off your own tongue to: in fact, just like the Hieronymus Bosch triptych it appears to name-check, Earthly Delights is actually a work far richer in tone, shade and technique than its lurid sheen might suggest.

Whereas Pollock’s 4AD debut was fairly charming and instant but a little slight, The Law of Large Numbers is the total opposite; a wonderfully simple, clever and loveable record initially masquerading as a complex and awkward one.

Perhaps they're better this way, as a hidden gem to be stumbled across or searched out. It's certainly worth the effort, as they sure as hell don't make them like this any more.

Even by their own standards, the lack of posing or pretence on this LP is startling; it’s a raw, bare-bones affair with nothing in the way of embellishment.

Washed Out always stood above his supposed peers; the more he progresses out of his shell, the farther his voice will soar clear of the soon-to-break wave of generalised chillwave nonsense.

Whilst Koone's recycling of chiming keys and bell like samples throughout each track might seem lazy, it in fact makes Wander/Wonder effective as a cohesive listen, and that's how its euphoric atmosphere should be heard.

Amiina now daintily rap at the doors of a larger audience with a sound that is as delicate as it is arresting.

At times hypnotic in their understatement, every so often they gently erupt with vivid melodies that bring the underlying air of tension to its peak.

On the Line is yet another beautifully-realised and impeccably-delivered effort from a songwriter who revels and beguiles us from floorboards and pavements that few other songwriters would dream to tread.

There's enough on Chaosmosis to keep even the most casual fan occupied over the months ahead. As for those already worshipping at the altar of Primal Scream, prepare to be consecrated once more.

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

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

In sticking two fingers up at both their detractors and Dalston, they've crafted one of the most viscerally engaging British rock albums in years.

The sheer energy pouring from this record is breathtaking: not until the very final song ('Continuous Thunder') does Celebration Rock's sense of acceleration cease.

The real talking point is the poise with which Honeyblood have carried off a record on which they seem to have so completely trusted their instincts.

This is a beyond-commendable comeback, so much better than it probably has any right to be.

John K. Samson’s vocal and lyrical talent is the most immediate thing and, ultimately, what sets the band above the two-a-penny similar rock acts the world over.

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.

Salem deal in fragments and ambiguities; their music is unmistakably dark, in all the senses above and more, and saps power from the tension they set up between reality and dream. But there's light and beauty there too.

As pastiche, this all makes for a fragmented and cumbersome back-to-back listening experience - utterly dominated by wild mood swings. But with so many independently functioning songs on offer, certain suites of two or three become hands down irresistible.

It is a blazingly enjoyable record, the most purely fun album the band has made since Fever to Tell.

Threadbare’s generous, circular nature is to be applauded; it’s rare that studies of loss are as authentically moving and sensitively played as this--and even rarer they’re so completely endearing.

Granted, there’s a dropped line or two (see the Katy Perry reference in the frankly appallingly saccharine ‘I’m Good’ and the misjudged Jamaican patois of ‘There Was A Murder’) but this remains an album with few weak points, and plenty of strong ones.

High Places vs. Mankind is their most complete work to date, which ends much as it began, with the band’s love of outright pop.