Somehow, even after you know all the punchlines, the tunes are solid enough to still bear pressing ‘repeat’.

The production is slicker, the songwriting more considered, and the statement more solidified. Peppered with spoken-word interludes, Cashwan-Pratt laying himself bare like never before, Dog Whistle is a manifesto for everything Show Me The Body’s early days promised.

For all its glum pronouncements of murder, mortality and loss, it’s an ecstatic listen, ponderous party music.

The pairing of the gravelly vocals of 21-year-old Maryland rapper Rico Nasty with hyped DJ Kenny Beats’ unique production results in an addictive album.

His lyrics and instrumentals may be more intricate than before, but they come together more coherently than ever. This isn’t just Loyle Carner at his most refined, it is the start of a new chapter.

Overall, he has created a musical representation of his upbringing in the Sunshine state, evoking its intricate culture. His mixture of smoother, dreamier beats in opposition with harder-hitting and chest-bouncing ones create an aural journey and explanation as to why he is “real-ass n***a from the 305”.

Every note of 'Rock Action' wins every fight they've ever started, touched with an imagination and awareness of the potential of sound that puts them so far up on the moral high ground they're almost lost in the clouds.

‘Source’ is a reflection of Nubya Garcia’s hometown; a mirror spotlighting London’s skilled musicians and a reminder of how thrilling this scene can be. The project’s urgency is baked in calming undertones, forcing listeners to be meditative and to connect, and a sense of rejuvenation, providing a call towards a larger sense of community.

Almost every part of it sounds sublime.

An album that’s rich musically, thematically and above all, emotionally. Sam Smith has never sounded better because they’ve never been more themselves.

What the south London quintet have made is an album full of delicious dream-pop.

While Hardwired... To Self-Destruct isn’t dissimilar in delivery to their last record, 2008’s ‘Death Magnetic’, Metallica still--in their fifties--remain both vital and innovative.

More. Again. Forever strikes a mature balance. It’s escapist in its sound but humane in its approach to the world. It’s experimental but familiar, and tests what the band are capable of while proving to be their more focussed work to date.

He’s the most successful former One Direction member with good reason, and this album is a high-water mark for the 25-year-old.

If 'Hats Off...' is slightly too much, too soon, they've still done enough to impress.

Though lacking standout tracks, this is an icy masterclass in how synths should sound.

Oblivion With Bells is less the comedown than the sound of the party still going 10 years on.

Largely, this is a set of songs that seep, creep and grow in strength, like opener ‘Aladdin’, ‘Time On Her Side’ and ‘Cave’.

Bass, horns, strings, organ and choir provide the backbone, and when Whitney allow themselves to kick it up a gear and really let rip, as on ‘Golden Days’ (with its cathartic “Na na na” outro) or the George Harrison-meets-The Band magnificence of ‘Dave’s Song’, they’re untouchable.

The Californian five-piece’s 14th album packs everything they’re good at into one concentrated effort: frenetic rock, pulsating psychedelia and buoyant melodies.

If ‘All Mirrors’ took you to a lavish, creaky ballroom, then ‘Whole New Mess’ tucks you away in the cupboard under the stairs, the door slammed tightly shut.

It’s the sound of all your messiest student rock nights packed into 39 breathless minutes.

One quibble is that Gossamer never really comes down off its Haribo rush, which gets exhausting. That said, when they do ease up, as on the boudoir-funk 'Constant Conversations', it resembles the two-a-penny synthpop that clogs the blogosphere.

A lot of Every Now And Then was recorded in the rural French studio they’ve compared to the doomed country retreat featured in cult comedy Withnail & I. And that fits, really, as the place this album had to have been made: somewhere haphazard and idiosyncratic, but weirdly brilliant.

If Beck gets better as he gets madder, this is definitely his best since 'Midnite Vultures' - maybe even since 'Odelay'.

The perfect entwining of brain and brawn. [9 Sep 2006, p.37]

Dougall relies too much on overly simplistic lyrics, and it gets a bit annoying.... But this is a minor flaw in what is otherwise a strong second album from a band in the ascendancy.

This is an album that delivers both mood and melody, thanks in no small part to Nagano.

Bagshaw’s tendency to spout arcane guff about the Odyssey, desert rituals, buried crystals and dancing on the stones is pure hippy mimicry. Sonically, though, this is a fresh and energised ’60s homage.

‘What A Devastating Turn Of Events’ – despite its slightly macabre title – is consistently charming, while offering enough range in sound and scope to hint at Chinouriri’s future ambitions. She has worked hard to make it sound this easy.

Nas doing exactly what he does best.

While their debut album favoured a shadowy and mystical aesthetic, For Ever makes for a far more personal affair.

Seriously brilliant stuff. ‘Send Them To Coventry’ promises that Salieu is unbelievably gifted with a ceiling nowhere in sight. He carries the entire mixtape with his singular voice oscillating between conventional rap flows, dancehall toasts and ice-cold venomous lyrics.

Far from making vague allusions to the events prior to Iridescence, Brockhampton lay them bare, atop some of their most adventurous work to date.

Mary J draws on an eventful life to reach new levels of feeling. [7 Jan 2006, p.29]

Pursuit of Momentary Happiness is excessive at times. From most other bands a swooning old-time ballad like ‘Encore’ and the slightly indulgent power-ballad ‘Words Fail Me’ would raise a big alarm. Somehow though, in Yak’s case they just about get away with it. Excess, after all, is how this record was created in the first place.

Public Strain is an album that invites you in and lets you at least stay for tea.

here are patches of sonic soup--‘Kenworth’ suffers from a particularly acute case of moaning flange--but overall, Cheatahs is a triumph of content over style: a gleaming pop wrecking ball taken to the sonic cathedral.

With the liberty of turning attention to new creative pathways, Williams has crafted one of their finest albums to date, this record an unshackled upping of the game.

The songs splatter unpredictably with little concern for cohesion, forming a whole that is emphatically unique.

This third LP is jumpy and beat-driven and banishes the memory of the dubstep scene he emerged from.

Less, in this case, is definitely more: The Beyond is his best work to date.

America is a profound statement; splicing Fuck Buttons with Sigur Rós in a state-of-the-union address balanced between hope, despair and an accomplished collision of strings, brass, soaring choirs and beats.

Oberst’s evocative character studies add intrigue throughout.

If these guys don't have the loftiest ambitions ever, it needn't matter when The Agent Intellect makes post-punk feel like purest rock'n'roll.

The resulting album is a total knockout.

There’s no jolting shock-of-the-new: there’s just reassuringly here, refining what they they do best.

Crazy as a second Gorillaz B-sides album might sound, this rummage through the "Demon Days" cutting room floor is totally justified.

It’s definitely in need of a more brutal edit: the 18-song tracklist is a little bloated and some songs such as ‘Don’t Go Hungry’ (which features Labrinth doing his best Weeknd impression) are pretty forgettable. However, there are enough bangers on here to keep you hitting the replay button, with Giggs’ unique vocal delivery never anything but interesting. He sounds ready to reign for a long time yet.

In ‘Seeking New Gods’, Gruff Rhys has yet again crafted another pop gem of an album.

It’s their finest collection of songs to date.

If 'The Green Album' was the charming bouquet to apologise for not calling for five years, 'Maladroit' is the rigorous porking in the back of a second-hand Fiesta we've been gagging for since 1996. It's almost as if Rivers cares about music again.

In ploughing a unique furrow in pop music, he demands your enjoyment as much as your respect.

There’s sure to be filler across 25-tracks. However, when Ty is at his best, he soars vocally and continues to prove that he is both a hook and melody juggernaut.

There really ain't anyone bringing the world party quite like LV.

The sound of a pioneer who refuses to stop innovating. [8 Oct 2005, p.45]

The high-tempo, energetic sounds throughout match Ahmed’s razor-sharp lyrics and fast-paced rhymes. The use of South Asian instrumentation – especially the Qawwali harmonies – grounds the production. It takes an unconventional approach, but the ‘The Long Goodbye’ manages to distill complex topics with fervour.

‘Hellfire’ delivers more musical thrills and about-turns per minute than few other records we’ve heard this year. Sounding more assured of their creative agility than ever before, ‘Hellfire’ is the work of a very special group of alchemists.

While the title track and ‘Belong’ also simmer with a caustic but expansive electro pulse, it’s not all dark and mechanical--there’s equally as much humanity and light. ‘Cold’ is a U2-worthy triumph, begging for fields of swaying arms and lighters aloft, while ‘Darkness At The Door’ is the closest Editors have and probably will ever come to an ‘80s power ballad--and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

You’ll love it, or you’ll hate it, you’ll have no idea what’s going on, but revel in the fact that a debut like this is allowed to exist.

July is a career high.

This pared down approach will likely disappoint some fans who hoped to hear final contributions from vocalists Champion, Joba, Merlyn Wood and Dom McLennon. But this is Abstract’s moment to write the final Brockhampton chapter, and it’s heavy on the confessions.

‘Blush’ shows the work of a songwriter who, even as something of a rookie, can command your attention and emotions with the most effortless of lines and make you consider your own life and relationships with the gentle encouragement of a close friend. Hold ‘Blush’ close – it’s a special one.

Over the album’s 52 minutes, Megan sprawls out, mining different aspects of her identity and personality at her leisure. It’s exciting when she enters new territory.

Goldfrapp inject more than enough of the 21st century into what they do to avoid being thoughtless rip-off merchants.

What lies beneath is frequently glorious, especially in the second half, where rolling, Afrobeat-infused rhythms underpin their best work.

What Muse have done is re-establish themselves as a respected British institution by being fun.

This expansion of sound is also put together with the kind of meticulousness that makes Transit Transit doubly compelling.

Sharp and powerful.

A dazzling debut ready to win the world’s hearts.

Versatility is the key here: staccato beats with mellifluous melody, rich slow-jams and edgy harmonies - but woven through with Usher's own perspective. A winner.

There’s more to this record than excited confidence and a hunger for adventure, though. It’s not just the spotlight this gang need. It’s connection.

Aside from some uninspired, though pretty acoustica (‘Someone Else’s Trees’, ‘Laundry And Jet Lag’), ‘BREACH’ is a stellar progression overall. Lily’s lurch to zestier compositions is a welcome divergence.

Despite Thom Yorke's assertions that 'Amnesiac' stands alone, it complements 'Kid A' so beautifully, develops it with such conviction, that the idea Radiohead ever cut themselves off to spite their fans suddenly seems irredeemably churlish.

On ‘It’s All Smiles’, No Rome has created an immersive world that envelopes you like a warm hug and urges you to let it all out – whether happy or sad. It might have taken a while to get to us, but an album with that effect is often worth the wait; Rome’s debut most certainly is.

Like it or not, the songs penned for Britney by Swedish producer Max Martin, the man behind the even more successful Backstreet Boys, get into your brain like ketamine.

Get lost in the haze.

In Masseduction we already have both Dorian and his portrait: the fox on the album’s cover, all rampant neons, stockinged legs, and taut flesh, and the inner ravaging--material just too good to keep in the attic.

Maybe this album is a little rough around the edges, and doesn’t quite commit enough to experimentation, but overall it’s an assured debut that suggests a very bright future. If King Princess leans more heavily into gay ballroom culture with the next album, ditching the acoustic guitar for music that’s more urgent and funky, then we might just have another pop great on our hands.

For the most part, though, Diamond’s debut album sparkles. Harnessing heartbreak and combining it with wickedly odd production, ‘Reflections’ is a shimmering collection of unconventional pop songs. After all that speculation, Hannah Diamond is human after all.

This is an album to be held close to your heart and revered as psych-pop scripture.

Much of this album, with its gritty street-level reportage of booze-alleviated dereliction and crooked politicians, feel so perfect for right now.

Green’s studio debut is relentlessly vibrant, an album that writhes and squirms in the eternally unpleasant truth that we are creatures of inconsistency and contradiction.

While NewDad might not be as structurally inventive as the power-pop-indebted Hotline TNT or as heavy as the nu-gaze-leaning Fleshwater, they are perhaps more streamlined and together, which counts for plenty. ‘Madra’ is the sound of a band who have reckoned with where they come from and used it to map out where they’re going.

Ultimately ‘Flux’ feels like a record about holding clear boundaries, constantly shifting in the face of set expectations, and following your creative gut instead.

Recorded with Vår’s Loke Rahbek on synth and Malthe Fischer, ex-Oh No Ono, on guitar and production, these 10 electro-pop songs truly glisten.

By the end this has the feel of a magnum opus, unrelentingly ambitious with just the right amount of self-indulgence.

Taken whole, it’s a looping, dense, all-encompassing experience where anger and tenderness bang heads throughout. Marshall’s world is grimier than ever.

No-wave krunch meets mutant disco shuffle meets snippets of global radness and, yeah, it's better than Animal Collective's new one.

As intimate, beautiful and witty as ever, there’s an impassioned life in Leonard that's missing from many artists a quarter of his age.

‘Lonely People with Power’ could perhaps have used a little pruning. For the most part, though, it stands as a testament to the power not just of forging your own lane, but becoming master of it, too.

With this jumble of wordplay and hooky songwriting, they’re unmistakably on fighting form.

Nothing here totally confounds the suspicion that Yancey was a brilliant producer, but merely an able rapper. Still, as a respectable cap on a great body of work, The Diary will do nicely.

So there aren't any retreads of 'DARE' or 'Clint Eastwood' but it is a stunning album from start to finish.

This long-awaited debut album proper from the preacher-chic-touting fivesome is an intoxicating mix of apocalyptic riffs, sob-worthy singalongs and brooding blues.

Crossing boundaries of pop music and chasing transcendence, SOPHIE achieves the rare feat of making abstract, difficult electronic music that hits you straight in the heart.

With every step this challenging record shows how grime can respond to and inform other genres while always remaining a force unto itself.