Mastodon have written the most personal album of their career, and in doing so perhaps their most pertinent too.

A strong and surprisingly confident first impression.

‘Vie’ proves that Doja Cat remains pop’s ultimate shapeshifter, offering an album that moves, seduces and entertains on its own terms.

A rather lovely music: all widescreen swell and swoop and sweet, pained harmonies, with a Flaming Lips-style skewed pop undertow. [22 Apr 2006, p.41]

On this lovely little patchwork pop record, there's enough going on to make you actually quite scared of what they'd come up with if they had a budget.

It’s a moving record. The only catch is, when they turn down the intensity on ‘What We Loved Was Not Enough’ they sound like Arcade Fire at their most mawkish.

A bit of good-time boogie on 'Big Rock' is the only release of tension. Otherwise this is intimate country-folk that's utterly seductive in its stillness.

This EP titillates before leaving you wanting more; just how it should be.

The emotive finesse of ‘Cherry Blossoms’ might further the calls for a shoulder to blub on, but chugging full-band showstopper ‘Ramona’ shows Yellen’s songwriting to be as rich as his voice.

The live album is built from tracks taken from different shows so doesn’t show off the improvisatory nature of their setlist-free shows, but again, it’s a reminder that their three-year absence is a bit of a tragedy.

Nielson strides away from the woozy Beefheart-indebted psychedelia of ‘II’ and its self-titled 2011 predecessor, and vividly expands every single aspect of the UMO sound.

Take a deep breath, lay back and soak in the technicolour empire Maribou State have crafted on this album--you’ll feel at one with our world for it.

Through a rich exploration of genres and a new level of emotional depth, it becomes clear that ‘Skeletá’ was made with a new vision in mind, and comes as the promising start of a new Ghost chapter.

A record of glorious parts that are just too weighty, too emotionally complex and rich to hang together well as a whole.

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

[Lemmy's] voice is a bit croakier these days, but the band’s riffs are as pummeling and unforgiving as ever.

It’s just a shame he can’t bring them together as a coherent whole.

Lust For Life deals with themes that’ll be familiar to Lana devotees; faded Hollywood glamour, skewed Americana and terrible love. But this time around, Lana is even more grandiose than usual, with lush, sweeping orchestration draped elegantly over each of the album’s 16 tracks.

The album’s about accepting that joy often stands side by side with pain. No, it’s not a wild departure from its predecessors, though it’s no less powerful for that.

Much more than a remix album, then, the sheer invention and thirst to push things forward demands that I<3UQTINVU’ must be considered as an entirely separate, and brilliant, full-length Jockstrap album on its own terms.

Along with his collaborators (including David Byrne and Damon Albarn), he has neatly stitched a tapestry of musical cultures into a cohesive, convincing whole.

Just another mind-bendingly great, often dazzling SFA record. [20 Aug 2005, p.57]

Whatever way you look at Kingdom Of Rust it’s a magnificent rock record, one which will delight the faithful and also surely see them pick up new devotees.

It’s a late resolution; like their debut, Crystal Castles feels long; not too long for comfort but too long for coherence.

‘Temporary Highs In The Violet Skies’ doesn’t broaden Aalegra’s sound or lyrical content greatly, and there are certainly points where she could push things further forward. But in continuing to be so open and expressive about love, hope, and loss, she makes it feel possible for the rest of us.

‘The Melodic Blue’ offers a confident and fully-realised project, one that shows that he continues to be difficult to pigeonhole.

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

Lyrically, Beach House 3 is a step away from the musician’s satin-sheeted comfort zone, but we may have to wait for ‘Beach House 4’ to see him truly come of age.

Kelis. Genius. Pop auteur. Credible diva. Welcome back.

Cheery yet punk-as-fuck attitude is studded through their rattling second LP.

As they prove across ‘Isles’’ 10 intricately-crafted tracks (which were whittled down from more than 150 demos), few other artists can conjure up these much-missed moments of patiently rapturous rave ecstasy quite so artfully.

There are few smiles cracked on an album that’s shot through with the loneliness of the night bus home. But this is a record in the true sense of the word: a document of a certain time and place, an emotional account of a cruel, Krule world.

Ruminations on a post-Brexit nation from a bunch of middle-aged musicians is, perhaps, less essential than it seems to deem itself, but there are probing thoughts and moments to make it worth sticking with.

They’ve certainly lost none of the delicious oddball energy that comfortably pitches their carefree electronic and romance-heavy tunes as the work of a lounge Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

‘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.

12 years after the tracks ‘Obsessions’ and ‘Mowgli’s Road’ introduced us to a singular musical talent, Marina’s melodies and vocal hooks still don’t sound like anybody else’s.

It’s the sound of the man inside the ball feeling an unknowable fear and trying to accept it. The rest of us should join him in his strife, if only to enjoy that psychedelic drone groove. It’s an anxious riot.

As well as the miasma of Lush and MBV, the likes of 'Heedless' have a skewed Breeders-ish growl that keeps lines satisfyingly defined amid the sun-bleached, soft-focus beauty.

There's no possible way of having this much fun without getting the chorus of Handel's 'Messiah' drunk on peach schnapps. [4 Feb 2006, p.29]

Mason falls a touch short of the mark. [27 May 2006, p.33]

Mug Museum, her third full-length, is as wonderfully weird as any of its predecessors. And there’s now sparseness in her music, plus a cool, controlled confidence that showcases her knack for the surreal more than ever.

Fans of Women’s challenging melodies will appreciate the songcraft here, but Viet Cong are very much their own animal; with deep forays into demonic white noise ('Continental Shelf'), clanging post-punk ('Silhouettes') and psychedelic/prog-rock on sprawling closer 'Death', they're expanding into adventurous new directions.

Repeated listens unmask 'Ryan Adams' as a great record, and a sleek departure from 2011's 'Ashes & Fire.'

...a spontaneity here that replaces the formality of tradition with something more vital. Like a snapshot's moment captured, the gap between composition and recording seems to have been reduced to nothing, and it's here that the group hit their mark.

Diasporic dancehall reggae, spruced up and polished around the edges, but essentially retaining the artist's signature style.

With their brattish Long Island manners, spiky wit and (middle-class) B-Girl 'tood, it mightn't be all that lazy to re-baptise them The Beastie Girls.

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

Such is the band’s melodic power the sensation is like slipping into a warm bath rather than eavesdropping by the psychiatrist’s chair.

Just odd enough to escape period-piece pastiche, their deft weaving of different eras and styles makes them akin to a UK version of White Denim, and promises more exciting things from the future.

This is the sound of progress.

It’s nothing you won’t have heard before--the clue, after all, is right there in the title--but hearing it done as well as this is rare indeed.

The quintet are a crack unit, powered by hard rock riffs, jazz and Krautrock-informed drums and flights of flute-based fancy.

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.

The album allows acoustic guitar to be the rule more than the exception. And the sublime melodies on 'Never Day' and 'Honest James' shine. Naturally, you can't take the boy out of art-school.

11 years into their career, SFA have produced some of their most beautiful songs yet.

Though ‘Send A Prayer My Way’ doesn’t always grip you with the immediacy of either Baker or Scott’s respective solo careers, it’s still refreshing to hear two very well-established songwriters exploring such distinct new territory together.

The important thing is, the tried-and-tested and the "new" mix fairly well.

With their crashing guitar riffs and vague, faux-poetic proclamations, Lost Under Heaven sound more like Imagine Dragons with a Goldsmiths degree.

While previous album ‘Truth Is A Beautiful Thing’ was a sombre affair, a new energy saturates ‘Californian Soil’. Fizzing with club sounds and filled with bright lyricism, London Grammar are more confident, and more fun, than they’ve ever been.

‘Pompeii // Utility’ is undeniably a long listen, and it occasionally buckles under the weight of its own ambition. But within that excess lies its purpose: a restless, evolving portrait of MIKE and Earl Sweatshirt at a point where convergence feels less like a destination and more like an ongoing process.

It's far from their best work, yet from the fuzzy lollop of the title track to the reverb-drenched "Pendleton," it reaffirms that not only are Buffalo Tom one of America's great lost bands, but that real estate's loss is rock'n'roll's gain.

He and the four gents in his Revue are here to remind you there's nothing more thrilling than the primal howl of proto-rock'n'roll, and this, their third album, is their most convincing sermon yet.

The hangover may be setting in, but DZ Deathrays have found new ways to party.

At 16 tracks, 11:11 is definitely a little long, but there’s no denying that Maluma creates a mood that suits his persona every bit as effectively as Drake does. Stylish, sexy and right-on-trend, this album should generate some heat from Bogotá to Bognor.

On her second album, Kiesza has defied the odds and made a solid comeback to the pop world. ‘Crave’ is a very promising – and very fun – hint at even bigger and better things to come.

By marrying their fun-lovin’ musicality with songs that stand up to injustices, Dream Nails rollicking debut will rattle around your head for days on end – for more reason than one.

This is an album that thrills in furious energy, but maintains a balance between light and shade via a deep understanding of dynamics.

Dean may have not shed all of her growing pains, but ‘Messy’ ultimately does everything a debut should, uniting multiple stories with a clear, radiant voice.

Heartfelt, human electronica that pulses with a folksy emotion thanks to Meath’s beautifully warm vocals, the duo’s debut LP is a summer essential.

A debut brimming with bile.

This is an album that shimmers with warmth and cautious optimism from start to finish.

The Last Shadow Puppets is an awesome achievement--a modern reinvigoration of an archaic, dead musical language.

This Chicago MC keeps high-concept gibberish to a minimum, packing his second album with rhymes about robots and skateboards that nonetheless roll with the sort of swagger which leaves other brainbox rappers red-faced and grasping for their inhalers.

The Divine Comedy are much more appealing in their vulnerability than they ever were in full cry.

There's light, shade and careful nuance throughout.

Lead guitarist Michael Bradvica, in particular, is an assertive presence throughout. His Nile Rodgers-style “chucking” on ‘Cinema’ gives the track both groove and depth, while his deft playing on the vulnerable, emotive ‘Smiling’ almost creates a dialogue of sorts between himself and vocalist Maisie Everett with transfixing results.

‘Ö’ is fast-acting and short-lived, and there is a temptation to wonder how well, in the long-term, it will hold up to repeat listens. To dwell on that, though, would be to misunderstand an album that is about feeling, rather than thinking.

It’s at its best when it mixes Badu-style soul vocals and booming apocalypse bass ('The Road', 'At Night'), but there’s evidence of a lighter side in the sort of jazzy tribal stompers that Gilles Peterson would approve of (‘Ra_Light’, ‘Near The End’).

A debut offering of preposterously ace swoon-pop. [6 Aug 2005, p.56]

Despite the fluid interplay of the four MCs and J5's evolving musicality, 'Quality Control' lacks the singalong pop immediacy of 'Jurassic 5'.... Quality then. But it's not the old-skool classic we'd hoped for.

Sounds as if it was recorded in a hermetically sealed ballroom by a group of misanthropic, jazz-obsessed weird-beards.

Easily as good as the last Chemicals album and often snapping at the heels of Daft Punk's 'Discovery', 'Machine Says Yes' is as broad in its retro reference as it is happy to revel in the futuristic.

Harcourt might err too far towards gentle whimsy for rock fundamentalists, but otherwise 'From Every Sphere' is a rich treasure trove of sun-kissed grace and summery magic.

It's the sound of people having fun. [4 Dec 2004, p.55]

A fine evolution.

Whether it's 'Tension Remains'' collision of religious chorale and space-age pulse or the jazz-soul cyberpunk of 'Never Defeated', the result is always original.

‘iiiii’ floats up into the clouds – often pairing sparse plunks of piano with haunting choral vocals and snippets of ethereal sound design. Of all ‘Kick’s instalments, this one is the most meandering, focused on conjuring up an atmosphere, and living within it.

While it’s a step down from both "VV" and his Danger Mouse work, it at least might be his definitively stoned record.

Ridiculously ambitious--and often plain ridiculous--Tasmania dances its way to impending doom.

Recounting the happier memories of her relationship often results in the album’s lightest moments: it’s here where synths soar and possibilities seem endless. Elsewhere, Scott employs some of her most evocative lyrics yet.

This Brooklyn band, completed by Dale Eisinger on drums and electronics, strike a thrilling balance between extreme industrial sound and remarkable artistry.

Ex Hex’s sound is so distinctive that it’s also very tough to escape, but luckily Mary Timony, Betsy Wright and Laura Harris avoid stumbling into the trap of picking up where they left off. As it happens, It’s Real is a bundle of collaborative fun instead.

Citing Prince and OutKast as touchstones, the record has a sun-damaged feel that envelopes the darker material without washing it out.

Taken as a full album in a single sitting, the drum-heavy tribal starkness of it all could be a little overwhelming; unrelenting, even; but the tracklist is just crying out to be dismembered and spread across your playlists like blood-spattering across a crisp white wall.

The record is made up of four nine-minute-plus epics that waft into view, all dub basslines, ambient synth washes and well-chosen samples. The exception to such rambling--and standout moment--is the title track.

It’s the sound of a band bolstering their already formidable palette. Free from the shackles of Reznor’s self-imposed trilogy of releases, the masters of melancholy sound rejuvenated, and ready for another 30-plus years as kings of the musical underworld.

This collection of (mostly) new songs stands strong on its own. The record is tighter yet bolder, sexier yet sadder, as icy, electropop siren Kylie once again leaves it all on the dancefloor.