Their stark sound might not be for everyone, but Williamson’s sideways swipes at pop culture and his own big nights out are as hypnotic as Fearn’s punked-up electronica which, despite its simplicity, is nigh impossible not to move to.

The south London grime don delivers a knockout debut that’s brash and pensive in equal measure.

Drunk, as out-there as it can be, is an album totally high on its own unique ideas.

Prisoner isn’t quite up to the career-best standards of its predecessors, but it’s a remarkably focused and effective successor nonetheless.

If the band suffer from anything, it’s being too serious for their own good, but the sheer propulsive nature of the majority of the record makes it undeniably attractive.

When it comes to big, belting choruses backed with equally sizeable orchestration, Graham doesn’t muck about.

Like the film it accompanies, the T2 Trainspotting is nostalgic but new, paying homage to its heritage while saluting brilliant new British music. In other words: choose T2.

Process might not be as bold or as inventive or as life-changing as some of the other records Sampha’s had a hand in during his career, but it does have a quiet, dignified impact that suits its maker. He hasn’t stepped out of his shadowy, background world; instead, he’s invited us to join him there.

Less interesting songs like ‘In My Feelings’ and ‘Hold Me By The Heart’ should probably have been chopped, but they don’t prevent her from making a great first impression.

If you’re chasing the initial buzz, Little Fictions is quite a hit.

Scraping off the garage 
rock grit and disjointed sharp edges that characterised his 
previous album ‘Emotional Mugger’ for this definitive self-portrait, Segall scrubs 
up great.

British hip-hop finally got serious--and Loyle Carner is leading the charge.

Don’t come to Modern Ruin looking to be cheered up then, but if it’s catharsis you’re after, there’s nothing more fitting.

Hang is propelled by two principal forces--star-quality musicianship and the will to trespass beyond tradition. And, crucially, at a third of the size 
of its predecessor, it allows 
Rado and France--who wrote and produced every song--to fully focus. Rado’s keys are particularly outstanding.

Like cold, clean water, Austra’s Future Politics washes clear the mental muck, leaving you feeling alive again.

With features from current genre dons Devlin, JME, Frisco, Flowdan and, of course, Skepta, it feels like a celebration of all grime achieved in 2016.

Oczy Mlody is the sonic equivalent of a deserted space-ship adrift in the cosmos, with Coyne as the lonely repair-bot dusting the diodes. A psych rock Passengers, then, rather than Barbarella.

A timeless creation, the record’s nine carefully crafted tracks draw gracefully on the past 50 years of folk music.

There’s tonnes of fun to be had from absorbing the duo’s fury, and El-P’s sci-fi beats are as thrillingly big ‘n’ bad as ever.

They find a balance with the old xx though. Fragility and self-doubt are still themes. Indeed, the highlight is Romy’s pensive, vulnerable ballad ‘Performance’.

It’s evident the band have begun a new chapter where they appreciate rather than become their influences. They’ve truly 
arrived.

By going back to the music that producer Don Was calls the “fountainhead of everything they do”, however, they sound younger than they have in decades. Blue & Lonesome is proof that old dogs don’t always have need of new tricks.

Few albums designed to sound like a party actually play like one, but Bruno Mars has pulled it off with style.

It sounds like a long-overdue coming-of-age. It’s never been easy being a fan of Doherty, but it’s certainly getting more rewarding.

If there’s a problem here, it’s the obvious 2016 one: length.

Dense, detailed and idiosyncratic, Redemption doesn’t slot in neatly next to the tropical beats and minimal pop hits that are currently dominating the charts. But there will always be a place for music as rich as this that dares to be a little different.

Bayston’s brilliant at producing these repetitive but nuanced melodies, most of which knot themselves inside your brain and won’t let go.

Woman is a joyous album of hope and optimism.

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.

With Here, it feels as though she’s dug deep to produce a set of genuine, heartfelt and relevant anthems.

It’s all deranged enough to convince us that Sleigh Bells are still menacing outliers, but on a deep cover mission to infiltrate the mainstream, horns still poking out of their ’80s mullet wigs.

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.

Sandé clearly has the chops to stand out in the sophisticated cross-platform arms race of modern pop music--the soaring ‘Shakes’ and ‘Sweet Architect’ are proof of that--but you still wish she didn’t fall back so readily on cliché.

There’s still no other British pop star quite as entertaining and unpredictable.

Follow-up Ready For The Magic is just as angry and their sometimes gauzy alt-rock is beefed up to ferocious levels.

‘Unnatural’ is full of sexy, snarling swagger and ‘Walls’ zips by on a wave of thundering riffs. Elsewhere there are hints of industrial (‘Money Machine’) and even reggae (‘Slow Down’), all proving that Nick Valensi has plenty of ideas and invention to offer outside of The Strokes.

Some listeners may not warm to Lo’s persona, but her songwriting skills are difficult to fault (she’s also co-written hits for Ellie Goulding and Girls Aloud on the side). Aided by collaborators including Lorde producer Joel Little and Max Martin’s protégé Ilya Salmanzadeh, she keeps the hooks coming throughout.

But more than anything else, Soft Hair is about intimacy, creativity and a zest for life--two singular musicians liberated by collaboration.

Steele would surf in the morning and retreat to the studio later on. It’s the kind of idyllic setting where days simply just pass by. Unfortunately, too many of the tracks on Two Vines do exactly the same.

To the ears of their detractors, Courteeners will always sound unexceptional, but in the eyes of the faithful, Mapping the Rendezvous will only make them more irreplaceable.

Only a few tracks come down with showtune-itis--‘All The Young Dudes’ and ‘Changes’, which morphs from a breathy, jazz-flecked ballad to an over-emotive Liza Minnelli cabaret piece in the hands of Cristin Milioti. Otherwise, invention reigns.

[Joanne is] a leavetaking song of great, simple beauty, more tenderly affecting than anything Gaga’s done before, showcasing the emotive power rather than the force of that great voice. The rest of the album too, rings with urges for us to take care of each other in a cruel world.

This is a very well-crafted album that succeeds on its own terms.

Oberst’s evocative character studies add intrigue throughout.

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.

By overtly embracing radio pop, Gameshow adds further froth to the wave of popified guitar music that TDCC triggered by giving rise to Bastille and The 1975. That they do it with such panache, melody and inventive edge will further inspire this new synthetic indie strain to hold themselves to higher artistic standards and maybe even become a full-blown genre worth worshipping. Until then, here’s what they could have won.

It feels authentic, like The Lemon Twigs aren’t hiding anything. And it leaves you wide-eyed when you wonder what they might come up with next time around.

Here they sound more focused and alive than they have for a while.

Her music is smart, rich and thoughtful enough to pull it off.

‘Parachute’, the album’s first single, shoots for voguish, vaguely tropical production via Kylie and Girls Aloud hitmakers Xenomania, but is a tad sappy. Wilson’s pop vocal is much more convincing on the album’s bangers, ‘Press Rewind’ and ‘Happen In A Heartbeat’.

As a simple collection of songs, it’s as strong as anything they’ve come up with since 2004’s ‘American Idiot’.

In a cleaner, more mature, concerned-about-its-blood-pressure manner, Head Carrier revisits Pixies’ prime, primal age, melodically pumped and squaring up confidently to its admittedly formidable forebears.

Never Enough is laser-focused on doing the simple things to perfection: guitar, bass and drums in service of verse-chorus-verse hooks that will rattle around your head for days with rakish, disreputable charm in spades.

It was produced by Michael ‘Mike D’ Diamond of the Beastie Boys, though sounds like it’s held together with snot and sawdust, lending the record a sense of spontaneity that runs through all 16 tracks.

It may tail off towards the close, but genuine warmth emanates throughout. A partnership that’s charged with ideas, this feels like a collaboration that’s only just getting going.

It’s the otherworldliness of 22, A Million that makes it soar.

Acoustic Recordings is a selective, rather than exhaustive, portrait of White as an artist, but for a guy who’s spent most of the 18 years this compilation spans dogmatically adhering to self-imposed restrictions, there’s a remarkable amount of diversity here--and not a clunker to be found.

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

More adventurous and free-spirited than the Warpaint of before, but retaining the laid-back DNA at their core. For once, Warpaint sound like they’re having fun--and it suits them.

The uncluttered production always feels reasonably on-trend, but too often these songs just aren’t catchy or inventive enough to be truly memorable. The result is another pretty decent album that doesn’t quite ignite.

Shape Shift With Me is an excellent album, Grace an essential cultural figure.

In terms of melody, Femejism is a more outwardly pop-leaning record than their debut, but the duo are still as heavy as Black Sabbath when they want to be.

As with her previous efforts Olsen’s unique vocal steals the show, but this is the singer opening up all the other parts to her personality. The more we see, the more there is to love.

It’s always best to take what M.I.A. says with a pinch of salt bigger than the NHS would recommend but if AIM really is her last album, it feels like a fitting parting shot.

No other record released this year will provoke such conflicting emotions in you. Skeleton Tree is both beautiful and harrowing, hard to listen to but even harder to look away from.

Wild World is a triumphant pop record: unflinching in its ability to rouse listeners and unapologetic in its quest for a Number One.

Battered and brutalised, Twin Atlantic’s intrinsic pop nous gains depth and credibility on ‘Overthinking’, ‘Missing Link’, ‘The Chaser’ and highlight ‘Ex El’ and a pop epic like ‘Whispers’ becomes a brooding masterpiece that makes Biffy’s ‘Mountains’ look like Peter Gabriel’s ‘Solsbury Hill’.

The full, colourful spectrum of Jamie is on show here, as broad as it’s ever been.

Glory is no masterpiece, but it’s a marked improvement on 2013’s ‘Britney Jean’, a messy attempt to merge thumping EDM tunes with supposedly reflective midtempo songs.

It may sound a little high-concept, but its ultimate themes of empathy and diversity are subtly communicated. Glass Animals’ melodies have an immediacy that diffuses any hint of chin-strokiness.

Ultimately, it’s confusion that remains at the end of Amnesty (I). Crystal Castles always were an uncomfortable band, but the bumpy conception of this album and the awkward introduction of new ideas dampen even its most teeth-chattering moments.

The overall effect is less like an album and more like a digitally created scrapbook--a dreamy, transportive audio roadtrip through fuzzy urban noise and peaceful rural serenity.

It’s Factory Floor’s second album and it’s their best.

Mangy Love would succeed even without lyrics. Produced leisurely with Rob Schnapf (Elliott Smith) and Dan Horne and featuring 21 extra musicians, this is McCombs’ richest ever recording. Sublime flourishes abound.

The occasional leaden production job remains the album’s main stumbling block. But if Giggs is unlikely to follow Stormzy into the mainstream, it’s hard to deny this record’s bleak intensity or lyrical command.

A Weird Exits should prove a solid fan-satisfier or entry point for newbies.

Ultimately, Blossoms leap from their chart-bound Trojan horse as modernist rock heroes.

Nao’s real flair, though, lies in embracing the old school and making it seem fresh. ‘Get To Know Ya’ and ‘DYWM’ both re-rub late ’80s soul and push it firmly into 2016 with crisp production and an effortless dancefloor feeling. More proof, if it were needed, that Nao--and her odd but addictive vocal--belongs up front.

Despite its dips, there are plenty of strong reasons here to keep Dinosaur Jr from extinction.

So alongside the creeping softness of ‘Dreamliner’--which is full of Alt-J-worthy waves of sensual electronica--we get the biggest noises the band have made to date.

If it was all such axe-grinding, Disaster Piece might flag--but it has vision too.

Viola Beach is an album that, against all odds, leaves you with a smile on your face.

The tunes he’s releasing are fresh and exciting.

This is a frequently dazzling piece of work from one of hip-hop’s most ambitious and imaginative stylists.

Kiwanuka has brought in the production heft of Danger Mouse, as well as up-and-comer Inflo, to seriously up the ante.

The album’s bittersweet introspection is complemented by samples of audio recorded by her and her documentary-maker dad.

The whole feel of the album is fun, shackle-free, uninhibited, but still masterfully crafted. In fact, by opening themselves up Biffy Clyro have captured the spirit of a brand-new band again.

Cheetah isn’t bad, but it could be the work of lesser producer.

The result is a record that’s as fun as it is furious, and as confrontational as it is cool.

There are far too many children’s voices, snatches of birdsong, glissandi of saccharine strings, and always the half-heard, half-sensed thwack of Frisbee upon social media manager.

With Freetown Sound, he’s made something bold, challenging, uncompromising and overlong--an album, like the man who made it, that’s the sum of its parts and then some.

Khan refuses to yield crossover hits like 2009’s ‘Daniel’ (only the frenetic rhythms of ‘Sunday Love’ come close) opting instead for a slow style of storytelling that rewards the patient listener.

Downsides? There really aren’t any. Mount has done it again. He could write music about the impact of Brexit on the UK’s trade with China and make it sound amazing.

California is too long, but has the humour, pace, emotion and huge choruses of a classic Blink record. Mission accomplished.

Produced by the band, with help from Pink and former member of Test Icicles Sam Mehran, its follow-up is cleaner and more conventional. But there’s a tease of their old sound before the murk lifts completely.

When the disparate influences mesh properly--as on the irresistible ‘Fool You’ve Landed’--they find a very happy medium.

The Mountain Will Fall sounds, at best, like a decent mixtape made by someone with pretty good taste. Thing is, you can probably make one of those yourself.

Exploration of I, Gemini reveals its quirks are knitted together with extreme smoothness.