When The Bees hit the target, as on domestic-violence lament 'Angryman; and the glacial funk of 'Sweet Like A Champion' the ghosts of everyone from JJ Cale to Hall & Oates to the Stone Roses enter the room.

At just 28 minutes in length, Kasabian’s eighth studio effort is concise, precise and generally focused. This allows a vibrant emotional clarity to bleed through its swaggering fabric, adding up to Kasabian’s strongest album in some years.

‘Ready For The High’ barely sits still for a verse at a time, ducking between buzz-rock, falsetto funk and bits that seem written for the first dance at the marriage of MGMT and Jungle. The rest of the album further delivers: confident funk pop (‘Wildfire’, ‘Worry’) and inventive future disco (‘This Car Drives All By Itself’, ‘People Don’t Change People, Time Does’) are staples, but the palette is wide here, the brushstrokes bold.

Though he could push his sound to be a bit more personal, he’s already armed with a generational voice, an explorative mindset and a singular writing style. Something exciting is bound to emerge from the storm.

If it’s less direct than the trio’s 2018 debut, ‘Stranger Today’, it makes up for it with a quietly adventurous textural approach. This album wears its nuances confidently while executing incremental shifts in tone and pacing with precision and care.

This is a 57-minute flex of every musical muscle in Parker’s body. Crunchy guitars are largely absent, but we’re left with something far more intriguing – a pop record bearing masterful electronic strokes.

Here they’re more melodic, emphasising tone rather than volume. It pays off.

Yet the easy chemistry between everyone on Amok means that more often than not the record is beautiful.

Young Magic are even more dizzyingly chaotic [than The Ruby Suns].

EGOLI is a scattershot and hedonistic diary of the collective’s week-long recording sessions, and each song offers an insight into the vibrant sounds of Johannesburg and the city’s unique twist on house, folk, jazz and beyond. Community and collaboration are a powerful force on this album.

Dom Ganderton and Ryan Malcolm are a deft hand at bringing colour out of the mundane in their honest, and often nostalgic lyrics.

If it sounds close to daft on paper, Merchandise have the ingenuity to make it work, and so it is with this fine album.

The result is an album teeming with hooks and melodies butting up against countermelodies, and a crisp, vibrant pop production.

This album is a quiet triumph, the understated work of an artist honouring herself and her creativity.

It’s an album that tries not to shout ‘old school Franz are back’, even though it unmistakably signals that old school Franz are back.

Only a smidgeon less euphoric than ‘EP-1’, EP-2 is another brief broadside that further justifies Pixies’ drip-drip release plan, keeping their ten-year-tour on the road and the intrigue of their new material relentlessly fresh.

At first it’s completely overwhelming--you’ll be trying to connect the scattered dots on this initially impenetrable listen, and maybe even despairing when it doesn’t all come together. But when the constellations show through, you’ll realise that it’s a product of searingly intelligent design.

The guitar-led epic soundscapes, choral chanting, woeful strings and portent keys on their debut ‘A Love Of Shared Disasters’ are still present.

This is arguably Cocker’s best work since Pulp’s 1998 comedown record ‘This Is Hardcore’ and certainly a greatly promising start to his new chapter. Cocker remains in an entirely different class.

Perhaps the highest compliment you could pay this EP is that if you didn't know who it was and had no preconceived notions about what it should--or shouldn't--sound like, you'd think you had stumbled across something very special indeed.

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

Hippies is an uncomplicated, brilliant LP about what it's like to be young, stoned and having A REALLY GOOD TIME while not coming across like you're a complete tool.

The tunes, too, are as lush and anthemic as ever.

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

‘I Am Jordan’ is a portrait of this artist’s personal growth, with tracks that could shine on any mood-boosting playlist. Ultimately, Jordan’s innovative and uplifting debut gifts us a question: could this be what trans euphoria sounds like?

And it makes the right choices, that much is indisputable; almost everything here is a monumental Underworld moment.

Now they've reinforced their position as the credible elder statesmen of metal, with a tightly focused, self-referential effort.

Pure indie-pop to hold close to your heart.

From its cover in, there's a knowing, bustling swagger to The Streets' finale, if only in its relishing of a quick dart for the exit.

In ditching the artifice, Annie Clark has made her most generous and open statement yet.

Biffy Clyro have delivered one of their most personal and definitive records to date.

It all makes for a moving look at people who changed, transformed, disappeared and faded, but are immortalised on a beautiful record.

For young fans just now learning the joys of heavy rock – perhaps lured in by the appearance of this band’s 1986 classic ‘Master of Puppets’ on Netflix megahit Stranger Things last year – this new record will be a fitting gateway drug. For everyone else there’s simply the reassuring thrill that, after so many decades on stage, Metallica are still capable of delivering sharp, spiky metal – and sticking it where the sun doesn’t shine.

Like Sabbath in a washing machine during a power surge. [16 Jul 2005, p.50]

For the most part, though, Styles’ second album is a total joy. It’s an elegant combination of the ex-boybander’s influences, slick modern pop and his own roguish charm.

This warm, wonderful record is a joyous, head-spinning delight.

And yet for all the disparate elements, we haven't heard a record all year so secure in its own vision, or a collection of songs that sound so much like they need to be together. The only downside of this is it kind of smothers the potential for standout Oh. My. God. moments.

Tracks like 'Torture' borrow far too liberally from A$AP Rocky's cloud-rap aesthetic to be considered original. But otherwise, Old is a perfect example of why 2013 is a very exciting time for hip-hop.

‘The Main Thing’ experiments well without alienating die hard fans expecting more of the same. It’s a more mature and ambitious record; the sound of a band finally out of a rut.

This is the sound of healing, with Ed O’Brien out of his cocoon and in dazzling flight.

Gibbs’ coarsely inventive flow works perfectly with Madlib’s imperfectly human beats.

Cherry Bomb might be the tightest, leanest Tyler album yet.

‘My First Album’ is an impassioned and idiosyncratic patchwork, one which paints a portrait of anxious and wistful personhood that is, on the contrary, definitive and assured.

Amidst all the experimentation and extremes of this impressive album is a message about life: bathing in the moments of ecstasy will ultimately enable us to cherish and value life more.

Expectations isn’t flawless, but it’s a compelling re-introduction to an underrated artist--one capable of putting her own stamp on current pop sounds.

Like a vintage Bordeaux, it slips down a treat (aside from lamentable ‘Peanuts’, which gets stuck in the throat), but the moments of oddness whetted our palette for more.

Album two demonstrates Lewis’ growing confidence as a frontman in the spotlight – long may it continue.

Pond’s fifth album, Hobo Rocket, bristles with unrestrained creativity and sonic exploration, while verging away from pastoral prog towards a harder garage blues slant.

Occasionally subtlety spills over into insipidness, but overall this is a masterclass in restrained beauty.

After all these years, the songs still stand up, even in a different dimension. ‘Black Stallion’ can either be listened to as the twisted inner monologue of a masterpiece, or a standalone rattling gun of gnarly and weird electronica.

Gives up its delights slowly and not without a wry smirk along the way. [11 Jun 2005, p.66]

Truly a master-class in beat-science from start to finish. [28 Jan 2006, p.34]

'Sticks & Stones', 'Memory Room' and, oddly, the title track add slivers of graceful light to this bleak but captivating collection of noirish tales.

Sounds as hideously vital... as [Slayer] have at any time during their 23 year career. [26 Aug 2006, p.41]

Peppered with hip-hop connections (E-40, Ghostface Killah, Freeway), equally informed by raw Chicago house and the riff-worshipping of Jesse’s previous (DFA 1979), and finally free of the omnipresent vocoder, it’s near-essential stuff.

The blanket of noise is provided by her male cohorts, but the lynchpin of PP’s allure is undoubtedly Meredith, another artist key to redressing the great gender imbalance that never goes away.

A new, added tunefulness makes this a much-welcome Exile In Nihilist-ville.

Despite the rock, you can still dance to it. [Review of U.S. version]

There's depth, sincerity and beauty in abundance here.

[A] ladyfolk wonder. [30 Jul 2005, p.49]

‘Wachito Rico’ exudes a breadth of musicianship that proves Boy Pablo is no flash in the pan, despite having found viral fame overnight.

Packs melodic punches with its killer Wilson-esque tunes. [18 Dec 2004, p.51]

At just 11 tracks and 27 minutes long, it’s concise by West’s standards – the days of sprawling masterworks such as ‘My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy’ and ‘The Life Of Pablo’ are perhaps behind him – but there’s density and focus throughout.

It’s minimal without being clinical, catchy without being clichéd and, thanks to the influence of MBV and Neu!, full of sonic left turns.

Lynn throws things back even further with a spirited version of ‘Keep On The Sunny Side’, written by Ada Blenkhorn and popularised by hillbilly originators – and two-thirds female – the Carter Family in the late 1920s. There’s new material too, but the message is always the same, with the focus on women’s innate strength and capabilities.

‘Typhoons’ is not only their best work to date, but all the better for Royal Blood being free to explore what they’re capable of.

Distortion is above cynical reproach--effortlessly modern and definitively 2008, yet flitting with the ghosts of Shields, Madder Rose (ask your 90s alt.indie expert uncle) and The Jesus And Mary Chain.

Every day is Halloween with Creeper, in the very best way.

The real star of the show isn’t the often-bloodless figure of Thomas Mars, it’s the brilliantly detailed production, centred around the dovetailing drum and guitar chops, best heard via headphones for the full stroboscopic effect.

Having developed their sound over six albums and finally tossed the carcass of previous band Red Red Meat, these super-sized ideas are Califone’s primest, most satisfying to date.

Sea Of Cowards, then, is the record The Dead Weather should have come out with first, casting them firmly as a real band, albeit one that sound like they’d roofie their fan club soon as look at them. It’s actually supremely brave and exhilarating.

'Trust' is a reaffirmation of far more than a vow of silence: it's a commitment to beauty that precious few modern bands capture.

The five tracks on M3LL155X feel like parts of a whole, musically and thematically connected in a way you wouldn’t necessarily expect from a between-albums EP.

caroline’s masterpiece might be yet to come, but this formative debut album opens up a world of possibilities.

An eclectic but thoroughly satisfying record. [21 Jan 2006, p.35]

Almost cinematic in feel, much of The Hold Steady's genius lies in Finn's ability to craft songs that tell stories as wise, textured and three-dimensional as the nearest old oak tree. [13 Jan 2007, p.30]

Porridge Radio are sharpening their craft, but they’re not pretending anything’s any easier, and that’s what makes them such a uniquely compelling band.

Ultimately, Gogol are all about a collective euphoria that's right in the here and now.

This is their most convincing and compelling work to date. Amid all the experimentation of this excellent album, The Districts have hit a new, complex and compelling stride.

While the talented singer’s debut album ‘Don’t Let the Kids Win’ was a sort of musical bildungsroman--the sometimes unsure steps of a new artist finding her path--the more assured follow-up is Crushing by name and brilliantly crushing by nature.

For all this uncertainty, the record is incredibly assured.

The record stands as an all-encompassing culmination of Tyler’s ever-varying sound, showing that growth isn’t always linear and that artists can be a multitude of things. On ‘Call Me…’, Tyler cements his place as a generational talent, one in fine form and continuing to push the boundaries of his vision and kaleidoscopic sound.

These dark, old blues tracks have never sounded more haunting.

Cox may have tagged Atlas Sound as just another side-project, but Logos is a clear indication that his solo creative output is just as richly rewarding as what came before.

Opener ‘Game Of The Heart’ is the closest he gets to the sound of his old band, and is an undeniable gem of New York rock’n’roll. Elsewhere he tackles new styles.

They're staying put, yet somehow they're kicking harder than ever.

The hard-fought ‘My 21st Century Blues’ is unequivocally RAYE from start to finish.

A kind of urban folksiness runs deep through the record, and the strummed softness of ‘Would You Rather’ even features Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst. The downbeat vibe is cut through by unmitigated banger ‘Motion Sickness’ but Strangers In The Alps is definitely album for the sad times.

Even their B-sides are full of dark magic. [2 Apr 2005, p.50]

If Squid can make daring, experimental music sound as fun as this, then they will take some stopping.

There are few unfamiliar messages and it’s all dense and considered, but never overwrought or explicitly angry. What really emerges is Kendrick's nuanced worldview.

She’s no longer content with being the elusive girl behind the screen, proving she can shapeshift, push boundaries and still keep us hooked – all in under 20 minutes.

Gone is the orchestration of 2008’s ‘Entanglements’, though the melodrama of the Portland band’s baroque pop remains.

Like nothing else you’ll hear this year.

After the conventional bar-band fuzz of The Catholics, ‘Nonstoperotik’ is a welcome return to the quirky experimentalism of "Frank Black" and "Teenager Of The Year."

This record is a triumph of belief and dogged determination over those people who thought he was a barnacle on the coattails of his famous friend.

It makes for a frequently breathtaking companion to ‘Take Me Apart’. In a debut album which was all about breaking down, ‘Raven’ reminds us of what it means to be put back together.

[Flowers] bares more on Wonderful Wonderful than ever before, and the result is the band’s best album since 2006’s ‘Sam’s Town’.