A Productive Cough is not a bad album, but it’s not Titus Andronicus’ greatest moment. Part of the problem comes from the high expectations set by the band’s previous work, and to some degree the drawn out jam sections that occasionally go on just a little too long.

The whole album is awash with reminders of not just how good The Breeders were, but how good The Breeders still are.

What follows maintains both the high standard and the mixture of shades and textures.

Her engaging lyrics remain her true strength. But in her quest to perfect this mission statement, the urgent spark present in her debut has dimmed just a little.

Dead Magic is a brilliant artistic statement, Anna von Hausswolff’s best self-definition to date.

Concise, even at 17 tracks, it’s a superb trolley-dash through Lawrence’s obsessions, both of the moment--listed among these in the sleevenotes are the twisted synthpop of SOPHIE, Japanese girl-group Perfume and “Side 1 only” of Dollar’s 1979 debut--and longstanding.

This Is Eggland takes no prisoners in its sonic bombast, and does not suffer fools gladly. Taking elements from krautrock in the oscillations of Silver Apples together with the slash and fury of riot grrlers Bikini Kill, the resulting dish is mashed up in a throwaway aesthetic.

This is the most consistent album to date by a band whose flashes of brilliance hitherto seemed often dissolved in their encumbering desire to set down a surfeit of ideas on each record. Here, their creative energies are reconciled just as the salt doll is reconciled with the sea.

Even with the missteps, there is plenty to love about The Wombats’ fourth effort.

There’s a nagging feeling that they may still be a bit too obtuse for commercial success. The rest of us can just enjoy one of the early musical highlights of 2018.

Whilst there are a host of influences and references at work, Astor’s delivery and way with a lyric mean that he’s bending those influences to his will.

[Cursed is] a rare misstep in an assured record that brings out the best of both collaborators.

Musically it ranges from coruscating to eerie, from ominous to plangent and sees the quartet operating at the height of their powers. It’s a hard-hitting, ambitious album that only serves to further consolidate the reputations of all involved.

Whereas his debut self-titled album was a perfectly serviceable slice of alt-country, it wasn’t really distinctive enough to stand ahead of the pack. That’s all changed with Make Way For Love which, at times, contains some of the heartbreakingly beautiful songs you’ll hear all year.

There are plenty of power-punk melodies to ensure What A Time To Be Alive isn’t condemned to an early shelf life, even if to put it amongst their best work would be a stretch too far.

Some people will bemoan the lack of a real crossover hit (there’s certainly no The Noisy Days Are Over contained on Open Here) but it’s one of those rare albums that you just know you’ll keep coming back to, time and time again.

The tunes are back, the harmonies are still weirdly endearing, and the album hangs together really well as a whole. As a single piece of work it is a fine achievement, a rival to Oracular Spectacular in its personal and political observations.

Overall, A Humdrum Star is GoGo Penguin’s most cohesive, pleasing record to date.

A wonderful album, undoubtedly a career best and an exemplary case study in how to respond artistically to a life-changing event.

Go Dig My Grave might not hit the heights of some of her earlier albums, and is certainly a more uneven collection, but it shows Susanna to still be fascinated by the power of sad songs and in possession of a distinctive, singular ability of re-presenting them.

The Academy Award is a rather too languid ballad that seems to slow down the flow of the album, and closing track Slow Don’t Kill Me Now makes for a weirdly unremarkable and flat end to the record. Overall though, it’s a joy to hear the band sound inspired again, and it’s good to see that, after all these years, Franz Ferdinand are still a force to be reckoned with.

Ultimately the album is three or four songs too long, but Man Of The Woods is rarely less than entertaining. Too slick to be a genuine man of ‘rough’, Timberlake nevertheless continues to lead the way in his field, even if he does so without consistently reaching the greatness he so clearly strives for.

Microshift finds Hookworms drawing a line under their history and taking their first step on a new adventure. They’ve not put a foot wrong yet.

Transangelic Exodus is a beautiful, dark, twisted, painful and yet hopeful tale.

I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life doesn’t quite hit the immense heights of her first two albums, but this is still Merrill Garbus doing her own thing--which is something that’s always worth paying attention to.

Nothing groundbreaking there, you might think, but it is all done with a down to earth approach that is at once appealing.

So far so good--and if anything it gets better.

Pissing Stars is by no means an easy listen but, if time is invested, amongst the heaviness and foreboding, rewards can be found. The world may be a bleak, troubling place at times, but Menuck continues to find salvation through his music.