A great example of someone following their musical instincts into new areas and finding success, Bloodlines is also a highlight of the year so far.

You can hear the anxiety, claustrophobia and desperation pour from every fuzzy guitar, from every snarl. Yet it is also a remarkably upbeat sounding record, with infectious riffs, thumping drumbeats and an overall rich, joyous punk rock sound.

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.

Spector balance out their miserablia with the kind of choruses that nag at you for days at a time.

Around two thirds of Theatre Is Evil's songs are bolted to the chassis of a loud, poppy guitar band, bringing inescapably to the fore Palmer's gift for killer-catchy melodies and stratospheric contrapuntal arrangements.

The real strength of the record comes in giving you that reason to come back to Nobody Wants To Be Here and Nobody Wants To Leave in a way that provides something new. If you loved that album, you’ll love this and probably prefer the original.

Some of Loscil’s best, most menacing, most uncompromising work.

Not only have they made a better record than their debut, they’ve made one of the best records of the young decade.

Much as [Bjork's] presence is immediately arresting and enhances its charms no end, it's a testament to the strength of Longstreth's songwriting that Mount Wittenberg Orca wouldn't suffer were she not a feature.

Seeds is a credit to their bassist’s memory: staying true to the TOTR ethos of writing music that yo-yos between genres, its 12 expansive tracks make for a compelling and frankly splendid record that you should seriously consider adding to your collection.

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.

The Blood Bank EP is a fine appendix to the Bon Iver story, so far, and in its subdued elegance, the title track has all the emotional generosity of giving blood, tinged with the awareness of mortality.

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

A small and totally unpolished gem, sparkling and anti-lapidary.

It may not be a timeless classic - much like a lot of his immediately great yet throwaway peers - but for all Baldi's youthful exuberance, he's proven himself an honest and remarkably mature set of hands.

If there were ever a reason for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's existence, this would be it, and despite the false dawns of albums past, Beat The Devil's Tattoo can hold its head high as their most compulsive body of work to date.

For all the globe-trotting that went into the album, this is a band that--perhaps more than any other at the moment--innately sound like and capture their Californian home in all its beautiful complexity.

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

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.

PJ Harvey can be exhilarating, thrilling, or offer up a disturbingly hysterical variant on black humour, but she ain't fun. A Woman A Man Walked By is kinda, sorta fun.

Nostalgia doesn't often feel as good as this. Prepare to feel both spooked and studious.

Constant Future is the sound of a band who, after nearly ten years together, are comfortable with their sound, who know exactly what they're good at and sound like they're having great fun doing it.

The band transcend their obvious influences: the recording is far heavier and denser than anything they're referencing, the songs more abstract and feral, the vocals surging with an unknowable American passion that sets them apart from their Brit influence.

There’s a distinct lack of choruses, and if you don’t like the rest of Yorke’s ouvre it would be kind of bizarre if this won you over. But really, if you have a tolerance for drums that go ‘fzzz’, Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes is a lovely, lovely record, easily Yorke’s best non-Radiohead effort.

There's no sonic arsenal, nothing to make you sit and check your ears, just gentle, simple songs that sound like the laments of a sad generation.

What could so easily have been an obtuse exercise in wilful eccentricity actually ends up an engaging, focussed listen that’s deserving of a wider audience than its somewhat cliquey appeal might suggest.

That they’ve somewhat restricted themselves in the way the record was constructed is also, oddly, a very good thing because it’s allowed them to strain and work within a framework and yield excellent results.

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