It probably won’t be for everyone – what one person may find mesmerising and hypnotic, another may quickly find repetitive. Salt River is never dull though, despite its slightly narcotic haze.

The tension that gave those early albums their fizzing energy may no longer be there, but in its place is a band operating at a far higher level. Give A Glimpse Of What Yer Not is almost certainly the best album the reformed Dinosaur Jr have made so far.

Boys Inside is Mason's best work since his Beta Band days - a rich, dark slice of mournful, glacial electronica with a heart. Richard X has smoothed away the edges, yet lets Mason stamp his personality on proceedings.

It is because of this collaborative rejuvenation that Monsters Of Folk is a worthwhile endeavour, a stirring album and an outfit that is as nourishing for its constituent members as they are for it.

The album can be quite a handful at times, but if in search for a post-rock record that makes so much of an impression in so little time, one need not look any further than this.

Defying all expectations, they have taken a brave leap forward and delivered one of the first great albums of 2013.

Thankfully, the songs are varied and powerful enough to sustain the album, and their balls-to-the-wall approach is both refreshing and entertaining.

Everything you loved about the last few Phosphorescent records is still here, in abundance, but C’est La Vie seems more streamlined, more emotionally sincere. You can hear that Houck has discovered a lot of love in the past five years, and you only hope we get to hear him discover a tonne more.

Generally, this is a perfect introduction to the talent of Liam Finn - and even at 14 tracks, it never outstays its welcome.

Enticing, if inconsistent, this seems to be an album that de Graaf had dreamed of making, building on the pretty, prosaic folk-pop of her self-titled EP in 2013.

Traumazine is a success in its own right, solidifying her position amongst rap’s big stars of the 2020s.

Although the departure of Weiss is sad, it hasn’t diminished any of Brownstein and Tucker’s power: The Centre Won’t Hold sees them as vital, compelling and as searingly relevant as ever.

With My Ghosts Go Ghost they show real creative verve and re-affirm their position within the scene.

This disc proves that their ascension to lofty heights is complete and something heavenly indeed.

Created by two genuine outsiders and made with a refreshing lack of irony, Album is a welcome addition to the very best albums of 2009.

Exile In The Outer Ring explores complex subjects without reducing them to empty soundbites and neat conclusions.

King Of Limbs is a subtle, muti-layered affair - surprisingly low-key in places, and it certainly won't win back any fans who checked out in the late '90s.

Consistent, yes, but also vaguely disappointing, the band may be at the peak of their powers but it's almost a shame to see all the mystery drained away.

It is a unity of the best elements of James Blake’s music – the rare ability to move the feet of a large crowd and the heart of a single bedroom listener simultaneously. He nails both achievements with striking regularity here.

30 Years Of War aside, this is an album that finds the Manics in fine form.

There are moments of brilliance and experimentation, but these are too often outweighed by pedestrian tunes and indistinct vocals.

While he’s sounding as bold and varied as ever, White’s songwriting feels a little less focused, with tracks like the seven minute opener and single Genuine Hesitation and Take Your Time (And That Orange To Squeeze) tipping over into self-indulgent dirges.

Monkey Minds In The Devil’s Time is a rich and literate album, which inspires conversation and debate.

As it stands Water is a transition record, signalling a direction of travel but inconsistent and frustrating.

There’s certainly nothing as immediately compelling as his collaboration with Fiona Apple, Left Handed Kisses. However, if you’re in the mood for a Sunday morning coffee and contemplation session, this is a perfect soundtrack.

If you're in the wrong mood it can be a touch wearing by the end, but more often than not this is 21st century funk gone right.

It underlines that Pottery have made a record meant for a party that never stops. Bobby’s Motel is surely a place with more to it than meets the eye.

Admittedly there are sometimes a few too many overwrought guitar solos--moments where Eitzel and Butler may have been better off toning things down--but overall this is a surprising new partnership that works very well indeed.

While the dynamics may be a little different, her wonderfully expressive, kaleidoscopic guitar playing and that voice, capable of alternating within the space of a few notes from a barely audible whisper to a wailing banshee, both remain as compelling as ever.

It’s a typically resourceful, subtle and mesmeric addendum--and one that underlines just how consistently excellent an artist Harris has been.

Champs deserve to be gracing grander environs on the back of this album, and while that may not happen, Down Like Gold does ensure that they’ll have thousands of eyes trained on them when they make their next move.

There is no radical change from their first four albums, but anyone familiar with MGMT knows that means plenty of musical exploration, a refreshing flick of the fingers up to the norm. There are many lyrical gems, too, VanWyngarden and Goldwasser maintaining their happy knack of writing songs that connect, songs that their listeners will want to hear on repeat.

For the most part The Universal Want lives up to that triumphant return presaged in Carousels. Calling back to various touch points from Doves’ career to date, it’s a fitting summation even if not a culmination or a career peak.

Lazaretto is an album of singles--it’s also a pretty revelatory record of healing and perseverance for White--that bounds rapidly through America’s South from the ’50s-’70s. It’s another great side to White, and another feather to stick in his pretty feathery cap.

An album that sits comfortably in the 4AD canon of excellence.

Music For People In Trouble will perhaps be a surprise for those who came to Sundfør via her last album, but they won’t be disappointed. This is an album full of hidden depths, stark emotion, and most importantly, absolutely beautiful songs.

It’s a combination [simultaneously sound contemporary and old-time] that has been present in his music from day one and Bright Sunny South proves it’s one that still reaps significant dividends.

It’s almost inevitable that an urban record made by an American rock classicist--especially one who moved to New York as a teenager like Morby did--will evoke Lou Reed. ... Shooting for a rawer, more stripped-back sound has left certain songs on City Music feeling under-powered and –developed, however.

The concept is realised for the most part, and while some more variety in the 'musical memories' might have been nice (along with a little more length), there's not much to knock in a cracking example of that rare phenomenon--listenable concept art.

A quite astonishing record then, and one which establishes Chasny as a bona fide guitar god, proves that Comets On Fire are much missed, and knocks the notion of guitar music being dead into a cocked hat.

Swing Lo Magellan affords generous breathing space to Dirty Projectors' music: a context in which new levels of unpretentious eloquence positively flourish.

With Lost Songs, Trail Of Dead certainly have their hearts in the right place; sadly, though, that's the best one can really say about this album.

A strange end possibly, but The Dusted Sessions seeks to encapsulate the essence of the vast landscapes the band experienced and does so quite incredibly.

Like the film it accompanies though, the prevailing sense is that it will be remembered principally as a top-notch tribute to its timeless progenitor; first class entertainment but without those inimitable zeitgeist qualities that made the original Trainspotting so uniquely compelling.

All Thoughts Fly is undoubtedly a peculiar album, but absolutely one well worth investigation.

Distinguished by its wide eyed, maddeningly flamboyant mélange of ideas, these Perth psychonauts’ latest is so potent you risk getting tinnitus and/or a contact high from each monolithic twist and turn.

3AM (La La La) feels like an album to lift Confidence Man up to the next level. As Brat Summer draws to a close, it seems like we’re about to prepare for a 3AM winter, and this will be the soundtrack.

It’s true, the constant drone can prove a bit wearying over the course of an album. But Can I Get A Pack Of Camel Lights is an album that will reveal its charms to anyone willing to make the effort.

His debut doesn't feel like poor pastiche [of 60's-era Dylan and Donovan] but rather the joyous tribute of a teenager with the necessary chops.

It shows Alison Moyet as a vocalist of immense sensitivity, feeling and lasting power. She is right at the top of her game musically and lyrically, delivering pop music that is more relevant now than at any point in her illustrious career.

They’ve turned everything up beyond 11 this time, opting to throw more skull crushing riffs into the mix. The songs might be shorter, but they lack none of the innate need to pummel that infuses most of their work. 


At times this recording is compelling, entrancing even with its sheer beauty; occasionally though it drags.

MassEducation is that rare record that works both as a standalone album and a companion to the original.

Legacy+ shows two sides of the Kuti coin that, while inevitably reflecting and respecting the history of Fela, also show his restless quest for the future and what that holds carries on with subsequent generations.

By and large though, this challenging, multi-layered record requires complete and sustained immersion to properly appreciate its full range of ideas and textures.

This is a highly accomplished and deeply felt third album to add to an already auspicious Gaz Coombes canon. He is on fine form at the moment, undoubtedly one of Britpop’s Strongest Men.

There’s a majestic soulfulness here too that makes The Invisible Way one of their strongest, most coherent works.

Peyroux is a wonderful singer and this collection of songs is her best yet.

An album which could well be one of the best released this year – and, in its pleas for solidarity and acceptance, one of the most important and vital records as well.

The album is not necessarily vintage Garbage, but it confirms the band still have their best qualities intact – no-nonsense music and a vocalist on great form.

This is just simple, honest-to-goodness, feel-good rock ‘n’ roll, and the world is better for it being out there. More like this, please.

Slow Focus is unmistakably Fuck Buttons, the logical continuation of the music produced by a duo who never strive to do something expected.

Somehow, there’s an odd clarity to be found amongst all the noise, distortion and decay. The Body might have looked to their past in finding the sound for this album, but in creating this slab of grief and anger, they’ve managed to be uncannily prescient. This is probably one of the most relevant and affecting albums of 2021.

There’s a lot to take in on Tableau – maybe, at times, almost too much – but it’s another solid record from West Yorkshire’s very own experimental art-poppers.

It’s not as front-to-back enjoyable as Rated R or Lullabies To Paralyze, and it’s not as thematically consistent as the Mark Ronson produced Villains. So it is their worst album. But it’s still the worst album by the greatest rock ‘n’ roll band in the world. Take it for what it is.

Whilst there are still examples of the kind of dexterous acoustic guitar playing now closely associated with Walker’s music, there is also a greater sense of space and time here, enabling Walker to place greater emphasis on his lyrics.

This is a debut that is, at times, rewarding and marks out Huerco S as a producer to watch.

Fever Dream won’t change the world, but it may seem like a slightly more comforting place as you listen.

Future Heart is the album's standout moment because it represents a rare moment of cathartic release, the band finally letting their brooding rhythm swell into something nearly anthemic. Young Widows do it well, but a little less restraint would do them one better.

Vulnicura Strings probably isn’t an album you’d want to listen to much on a regular basis, despite its undeniable excellence. It does, however, make for a beautiful and fascinating companion album to one of the year’s very best records.

This record feels produced, whereas her first release had the feeling of a bedroom recording. She may have lost the kooky melodrama and charm that she enveloped earlier on, but I’m Not Your Man feels strangely right, if quite startling in its shift in direction.

Artists risk an absolute mauling when they wear their favourite era as a Halloween costume for a whole record, but here, at least, the joy of an unknown nostalgia far outweighs the realities of the grim present.

A record of many highs.

Me And Ennui… is pure articulation. Just when you think that Sarah Mary Chadwick has shone a light on every one of her warts, here comes the ‘and all’.

They inch ever closer to the boundaries of the mainstream with this simmering assortment.

Quiet The Room is the perfect introduction to Helen Ballentine’s hazy, dreamy world – a world you’ll want to spend an awful lot of time in once you experience it.

Ultimately, First Demo is far more than a historical curio, it’s the sound of the band in a period of furious creativity and evolution.

Iglooghost has succeeded in an enviable task: he has managed to create a signature sound while innovating and progressively adding to that sound, and Lei Line Eon is a fine showcase for this unique artistic vision.

It can sound like a mish mosh of the obscure record collection of a New Yorker-reading, Ivy League graduate, and one who knows how to have fun just as well as he knows philosophical theory.

The fact that neither side needs the other is why Tromatic Reflexxions works so obscenely well.

That this glorious album will be remembered long after this week's hyped offerings are forgotten is a testament to its power.

Cowley has crafted a coherent, carefully planned suite of music here with a strong conceptual framework and a remarkably consistent sound.

Best Friends work best when they deal in heads down, pulsating rock.

The yearning title track brings to a close an album that is quite probably Harcourt’s best since Here Be Monsters.

It wears its heart on its sleeve, and is relentlessly inventive. It’s the sound of an artist continuing to evolve whilst encouraging anyone who is lucky enough to encounter their work to follow suit.

No Geography is a great Chemicals album, for it balances the hedonistic big numbers with sentiments of real substance, fighting its corner with vigour in the face of chaos. ... It ranks as one of the Chemical Brothers’ finest achievements.

Hegarty's fourth album strictly follows the template laid down by his previous records: fragile, sombre and wistful, always dominated by that extraordinary tremulous voice, seemingly forever on the brink of bursting into tears.

It is not very often that an artist comes along that is so strikingly unique and hugely talented and with Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose Beth Jeans Houghton has made a beguilingly lovely debut album that shows immense promise.

Those seeking the mellower vibes of his earlier work may be slightly less enamoured with VEGA INTL. Night School, it’s undeniably a record that’s confident, intelligent and above all, fun.

With lyrics in the languages of Turkey, Kurdistan and Iraq all included, with the express aim of engaging listeners throughout the region, Souleyman’s mission to bring a more positive view of his country, and its thrilling musical forms, to a wider audience continues unabated.

It’s a broad net Terje casts here, flitting through myriad styles but he always ensures they’re congealed in order to give the record a cohesiveness and rigidity.

Whatever El Guincho's debt to Panda Bear, the decision to keep Alegranza! in the mama tongue lends it a genuine other-wordliness unlikely to be found in the well-traversed topography of American music.

It is perhaps better as it is, providing the soundtrack to the lives and stories of those who hear it, and with any luck, this is an album that will find its way to everyone.

It probably would have come across better as a slightly leaner offering that was all killer no filler, but at its best Physical develops on his work with Factory Floor to create a distinctive style of his own, an unsettling retro take on house music that yields many fantastic results across the record.

While Mordechai falls just short of providing that ‘sit up and take notice’ moment many of us have been waiting for, there’s certainly a lot to admire about Khruangbin – not least their formidable crate-digging skills.

The Ship proves he has more ideas than ever, and shows there’s still plenty left to be achieved in music.

The mixture of mournfulness, savagery, lo-fi spirit and noise should appeal to psych fans and college rockers, metalheads and hardcore punks alike.

Mascis' ear-bleeding guitar soloing is ever prevalent, but there's a dynamism in the music here that was missing in previous efforts.