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

Colourful and unconventional throughout, Knockin’ Boots keeps Julio Bashmore’s reputation for bangers firmly intact.

Filled with lively, stylised pop tunes, she’s once again proven that she’s not just that girl from ‘Call Me Maybe’.

It all adds up to an album that holds your full attention even if it isn’t Cyrus’s boldest or most visionary. ‘Endless Summer Vacation’ certainly feels like an accurate reflection of who she is as an artist – and a person – in 2023.

‘Spiral’ is a gorgeous, often filmic listen that rewards with each spin. Most importantly, Jaar’s enhanced vocal role gives a new voice to troubling themes previously suggested in the stirring moods of Darkside’s music. Eight years was worth the wait.

It exists in its own eccentric, unique universe, and that is the best thing that any debut album can do.

With this, their follow-up, they're in familiar miserably poetic folk-song territory. For some reason, every song evokes the pub.

Their 2011 debut album was nominated for the Polaris Prize, Canada’s equivalent of the Mercury--although UZU, its follow-up, is bolder, rangier and more ambitious than anything likely to trouble that bauble’s orbit.

The 23-year-old is most impressive when channeling the heartfelt huskiness of Edith Piaff on the old timey ‘I’ve Got A Girl’, which rolls across the backdrop of a hefty Waitsian polka.

It’s admirable to see him balance his signature sound with hints of exploration in collaborations such as ‘Monsters You Made’, all while remaining true to his mother tongue.

It’s the naturalness in how Claud pulls it off that makes ‘Super Monster’ feel so exceptional. Dance, cry, think about someone in particular, fall in love with it overnight.

The album bustles with defiant spirit while leaning heavily on deeply catchy songwriting and production.

‘The Dream’ continues the slow, rewarding blossoming of Alt-J’s records, each a little more generous, thoughtful and optimistic than the last. ... It’s the sound of a band revitalised, having finally found their happy place.

There are only two major mis-steps – ‘Beads On One String’ is the kind of amorphous soft rock balladry that Sting used to make in the ‘90s and Townshend’s easy listening ‘I’ll be Back’ descends into a plain awful vocodered rant. ... But otherwise ‘WHO’ either recaptures the band’s root ferocity or explores new territory with style.

At times, ‘Crash’ eases off the throttle slightly – the interpolation of ‘Show Me Love’ on ‘Used to Know Me’ is infectious, if slightly too straightforward, while smouldering ballads ‘Move Me’ and ‘Every Rule’ could do with more of the skewed hints of unfamiliarity found in spades elsewhere. These are minor gripes, though, and by the time those synthesised strings whirr into life on the jagged pop-funk track ‘Baby’ they’re easy enough to overlook.

Bono's genius is that his inner monologue is so huge and heroic that it matches the scale of the music. And, even more so than on 'All That You Can't Leave Behind,' the music is enormous. [13 Nov 2004, p.55]

Dirty Three have become increasingly proficient at speaking a private musical language in public. [22 Oct 2005, p.41]

The absence of quirky samples and lame big beats make it all sound, right now, strangely radical.

One of the most cosmopolitan albums to carry the Giant seal of oddness. [11 Sep 2004, p.55]

‘Eyeshadow’ treads more familiar ground, thrillingly injecting the Welshmen’s knack for an anthemic chorus with Thursday’s pulsing, wide-eyed intensity. Rickly fans may be uneasy with No Devotion's softer synthpop moments though.

There’s some fatigue while listening to the slower tracks like ‘Shine Your Light For We’ – turning his laidback style into something mind-numbing, but these moments are pretty rare. .... Without special guests this time around, he doubles down on what he does best: directing the dancefloor with precision, patience and pure instinct.

Both cerebral and corporeal, sacred and profane, The Eternal sees this band approach the level of The Velvet Underground, where chaos and beauty ravish each other within the same song. Clever old sods.

Every so often a new band will arrive clamouring that guitar music isn’t dead, as if they’re mid-CPR. Yak have crash-landed clutching its still-beating heart, wearing an irrepressible grin.

With a Balearic pulse and horizontal attitude throughout, this record is ready-made sunshine--MDMAzing pretension-free fun for the masses. This is the album we need in these hard times, even if we don’t deserve it. Put this record on, dance until sunrise, gurn through Brexit and rave until war is over.

Following on from his eclectic debut, ‘USEE4YOURSELF’ finally etches IDK’s place in rap.

Being able to show so much humanity and versatility so early in her career is highly respectable and if this is a glimpse of the future, Nia Archives looks set to become an unstoppable generational talent.

It's a brave and curious record that, as on 'Bugs', occasionally resembles Willie Nelson fronting Labradford.

The monotone pace is lifted by the sprightly ‘3 Days’, but ultimately Woman is cloyingly pedestrian.

For now, Haim are a rock band who've made one of the best pop albums you'll hear all year.

He flirts with past glories on the throbbing ‘I Am Dust’, but Splinter never sounds ahead of the curve he created.

Follow-up No Blues finds the band settling into a more consistent sound.

White Lung have somewhat softened their ragged edges and in doing so have created one of the most compelling albums of the year.

There is a small sense of disappointment that we don’t get to hear Stormzy let loose on the mic more often, but then this record was never going to be a recreation of ‘Heavy Is The Head’ or ‘Gang Signs & Prayer’s proclivity for immediate grime hits. The hard-hitting lyricism is still present, though.

‘Amends’ is a powerful record that offers comfort, motivation and a sense of belonging.

The album is excitingly dynamic as it cycles through its varied but unified vibes – whether that’s the uptempo, dancey ‘Hips’; the spacey, seductive ‘Like Sweetness’; or the moody ballad ‘Trouble’. There’s a maturity to the lyrical content here, which by no means undercuts its playfulness.

Beautiful. These are soft, lush pieces that deep-dive into life’s everyday moments and turn them into something extraordinary.

‘Joy’All’ proves that she’s maturing into one of pop’s foremost storytellers.

This is an enormously enjoyable album that doesn’t just deliver on its kitsch potential; it also makes you feel both moved and exhilarated.

It’s underpinned by a sense of homecoming for the rapper. On ‘E3 AF’, he marks his territory, coming back to a sound he grew up with while tipping his hat to the future. He recognises his enormous contribution while reminding everyone that he’s not done, not yet.

This rollicking debut album is a balance-redressing, cliché-bucking tonic.

Whether she's actually poverty-stricken or just pretending, the 29-year-old has put together a set of songs so delicate it has all the impact of a flutter of nymph wings.

It’s the sound of the genre at its most bonkers, with the scene’s most brazen producer churning out never-before-heard sounds that range from the acid-ghetto-house of ‘Acid Bit’ to the footwork/jungle hybrid of ‘I’m Too High’. Impressive stuff.

Every sentiment on Novelist Guy is deeply felt.

It’s rare for a rock record to feel this exciting, especially coming from a band seven albums deep and, y’know, from Surrey, but every track ‘SUCKAPUNCH’ feels inspired in some way.

Often, cover records are dismissed as simply a bit of fun or as an indulgent aside to an artists’ original output, but when Cat Power does it, it’s nothing less than soul-nourishing.

Danceable yet thoughtful debut album.

Two years since the last album, five members with wildly varying tastes and talents, enough ammo to blast out two solo albums on the side, and they still can’t quite make 10 essential tracks in a row.

The urge to dislike Josh Ritter is somewhat overwhelming. But, like a diseased puppy with an adorable smile, it's just impossible to take him out back with Pa's shotgun because he still has an ear for a good tune--even if it is one of Dylan's.

Their best yet.

Fucked Up can remain relevant without the need for continual, exhausting reinvention.

There are sparks of new wave brightness and Beatles lustre, ensuring an album about uncertainty and dejection remains beautiful throughout.

Gloss Drop is powered by a tireless, ingenious sense of play. Admittedly, it is sometimes the sort of playfulness displayed by quantum physicists and pure mathematicians. But hey, get the numbers right and everything else just slots into place.

While this fifth album, marrying incisive political commentary with intense introspection, epitomises Ghostpoet, it doesn’t add any new colours to his palette. He doesn’t sound like he’s even trying to push himself.

Love and its bruising unobtainableness remains his chief concern, but with Years Of Refusal some things have changed. For a start there’s less of the stately strings of "Ringleader..." and more of the direct rockabilly of "...Quarry."

This is the band’s sixth album in an 11-year career and it feels at once fresh and self-assured, bearing its painstaking complexity with a striking nonchalance.

Succinct, tiny pop gems like 'Milk Bottle Symphony' and 'Relocate' are beautifully realised. [11 Jun 2005, p.67]

Mostly, though, Conatus gives you a more polished version of exactly what you'd want from a Zola Jesus album.

Despite its five or six great tracks, Graduation feels more and more like the work of a follower, not a leader.

Its indie innocence would be too much if it wasn't for the darkened, Lynchian hum that hangs over the record

Generally this is fairly accessible stuff.

Tasteful and perfectly executed, but workmanlike.

Her songs sound even more spaced out and unreal than ever.

Espers, the rockier duo with which she made her name, seem to be on permanent hiatus, but this more than suffices.

It's as idiosyncratic and tinged with goofiness as one might expect for a band with members called Panda Bear and Geologist.

In under an hour B&S have reversed their decline, producing an album that ranks alongside ‘If You’re Feeling Sinister’.

The novelty-obsessed stay-at-homes who made Toro Y Moi the buzz hit of 2009 might react unfavourably to all this accessibility, but by digging deep, Underneath The Pine shows Toro Y Moi setting down roots and, perhaps more swiftly than expected, flourishing.

True to title ‘Things Take Time, Time Time’s unshowy songs take hold more slowly, but Barnett’s small snatches of happiness grip you all the same.

An onslaught of varied and marvellously good tunes presented in an unexpectedly inventive way. [18 Sep 2004, p.65]

It can be a harrowing listen, but Wheeler sugars the anguish with slabs of OMD synthpop on the title track and 10-minute centrepiece ‘Medicine’.

The result is a record that cloaks Gengahr’s inherent weirdness in peaceful melodies you’ll want to wallow in for hours.

Dismiss this as uninspired “dad rock”, or embrace it as a dad making the music he’d want to hear.

Fully fleshed out pop songs with endless charm, if this is what living in the moment sounds like, it suits her.

‘I Barely Know Her’ is a slick, ambitious collection of songs crafted for big venues and festival stages.

Girls are a band who release their intoxicating mist over time, making this mini-album a bit unsatisfying in quantity rather than quality.

Britrock's grumpy uncle has regained his gnarled spirit here and fans will feel all the better for it.

'Walking With Thee' is barely forty minutes in length, but feels about half that length - not because it flies by, but because throughout, it barely feels substantial.

At 18 tracks long, ‘Lover’ is more sprawling and further from flawless than her 2014 pop crossover ‘1989’. But it succeeds in spite of its clunkier moments because Swift’s melodies are frequently dazzling and her loved-up lyrics are ultimately quite touching.

The brevity and density of the album, coupled with the unique production, makes it seem like an epilogue to ‘Some Rap Songs’. Earl Sweatshirt has made another project that listeners will scrutinise and dissect repeatedly. It’s further proof that Earl Sweatshirt is a generational talent.

The problem is simply the songs: route-one, four-chord grunge adrenaline hits that have none of the haunting and eerie dissonance that set them apart from bands like Wavves, and the rest of US indie’s surplus of breezy slacker-rockers last time around.

Every track here follows the same pattern over identical lackadaisical rhythms, her vocals never rising beyond a low-slung murmur with most of the lyrics drawing the same conclusion: she’s bored.

Now shorn of vibraphonist Keaton Snyder, San Francisco's The Dodos remain a three-piece with the addition of alt.country chanteuse Neko Case.

Shinier and poppier than anything Speedy Ortiz have done, Slugger is Dupuis’ attempt at putting politics into pop. The results are a thrilling and fizzing triumph.

There’s a rare moment of foreboding on the briefly gloomy ‘Feather Man’, but the likes of ‘Shining’ and the Avi Buffalo-style ‘Only The Lonely’ are representative of an optimistic and sprightly record.

Across the whole record, there's a kind of galactic atmosphere that gives everything an spacey edge.

Sharp and powerful.

Truths rarely come as beautiful as this.

Salute the heavens, then, that the result is an absolutely belting 10 songs.

His new album is a triumph of agitated beats, jazzy keyboards and slurred rap.

As the sprawling title-track brings the album to a close around the 67-minute mark, the heft of it all can feel overpowering, leaving you wishing for a more concentrated dose.

Although album five lacks the narrative that made ‘Konnichiwa’ so compelling (a victory lap for grime’s commercial renaissance, it also reasserted his DIY credentials), this sounds like a record from a rapper with gallons of creative juice in the tank.

A collection of gorgeous, sultry songs that contend with the angst of feeling like you’re the only person who is truly awake and alive in an otherwise sleepy world.

‘Every Loser’ is a present-day primal punk resurrection from the only musician qualified to make one.

A few indulgences like an ‘Auld Lang Syne’ singalong are the main gripes to dampen an otherwise monumental presence.

While they’re not bringing anything musically innovative to the table, they’ve re-packaged the sounds in a way that feels distinctly 21st Century. It’s extremely good fun and presented without pretence – and that feels like enough.

A departure from their scrappy origins, this record is a big, grown-up collection of forward-thinking rock gems. Sure, it might not be as chaotic or feel as grimy as what’s come before, but it’s a deliberately larger-than-life affair.

What’s most pleasing about this ‘…Mirror’ is that it reflects the original’s dark, experimental essence. It’s heartening to hear that, more than 50 years on, ‘The Velvet Underground & Nico’ has similarly venturous and intrepid descendants who still nurture its spirit.

The juxtaposition of the melancholic with the mellifluous melds majestically atop delicate lap steel, brushed drums and double bass on this country tearjerker.

If you've got patience it's a quiet joy; if not, it'll drive you nuts.