An astoundingly honest, and at times brutal, listen, ‘PREY//IV’ still ends on a note of hope.

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.

The band have covered all bases this time; pushing themselves to experiment while still celebrating what makes their music so catchy and compelling.

The darkness that gripped Stevens during his last outing seems to be still tugging at his heels. But compelling as those moments are, more fun are the tracks where he puts his expansive imagination to use and lets go a little.

The band’s most musically ambitious and diverse record yet.

Ultimately this record lacks the genuinely interesting shifts that have punctuated Swift’s career so far, from the lyrical excellence on her superior breakup album ‘Red’ to ‘1989’’s pivot to high-octane pop.

They're songs infused with bite and bile, quite ridiculous, very bombastic - and let's make this point one more time - utterly, utterly thrilling.

It’s a bit nuts, but the ominous, shimmering psychedelia of standout tracks ‘Three Frendz’ and ‘Angel Of The North’ elevate the album beyond a quirky, Watership Down-esque curiosity.

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

It's one drawn-out primal scream that goes from dark and broody to blissed-out drone. [11 Mar 2006, p.43]

Recall[s] dance music's pre-superclub adventures in electronica and bleepy house. [19 Mar 2005, p.59]

Adhering closely to the template of Daft Punk’s two seminal live albums, crowd noise is mixed high, becoming another instrument as it responds to every hook with a spine-tingling roar.

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

Overlong at almost an hour but, largely, as pretty and organic as crystal.

After living with it for a while, you’ll come to appreciate ‘EYEYE’ as a record that breathes, sighs and will leave you lost in the same dazed revery that these tracks were born from.

A similar slide into the mainstream for Jim James and co certainly wouldn't be out of the question – not least because Circuital, despite stiff competition, is possibly their most impressive work to date.

The crepuscular glow of this quartet should be embraced.

As an instrumental score, fans may miss the clever kitchen sink turns of phrase that have populated Field Music lyrics since 2005’s self-titled debut, but Music For Drifters breaks down the band’s distinctive sound to its raw DNA.

A dazzling follow up to ‘Apricot Princess’, Rex Orange County’s third studio album is a total delight.

With bursts of martial snare and brass held together by a minimalist, bass-powered spine, it's reminiscent of The Neptunes' spare genius and feels like off-the-peg future pop.

An intensely personal record, the process of listening to the dozen tracks here is as intimate--and sometimes as uncomfortable--as reading pages ripped straight from Frank's diary.

The multi-talented musician’s downfall is sometimes that he wraps melodies in so many layers that it barely has a chance to breathe. ... Whatever the flaws in some elements of ‘Changephobia’, Rostam can be proud of creating an album that showcases his talent as a producer and is truly unique.

The Sun Kil Moon frontman may revel in the role of indie-rock’s great white grinch, but as Sings Christmas Carols proves, he’s no more immune to the spirit of the season than his furry green counterpart was.

Cottrill is a master at penning lyrics that make you feel like you’re listening to hushed secrets from a friend, but she also has a knack for crafting melodies and rhythms that make you really feel what she’s going through in any given song.

I’m Going Away sees The Fiery Furnaces abandon their surrealist tendencies to work outside their comfort zone, experimenting with structure and euphony to reassert their status as our most vital musical siblings.

Sam Beam's fifth album sees him taking further, grander steps in the shiny loafers of a cheesy 1970s crooner with a fondness for symphonic folk and a soul groove.

They’re still doing it better than anyone else; ravier than Foals, more fun than Fuck Buttons, flexing more post-hardcore muscle than Metronomy. It’s just that we kind of hoped they might surprise us again. That said, if they’re not pushing any new envelopes, Come Down With Me is still satisfying on its own terms.

Frank Carter used to be a stick of dynamite. Then a stick of dynamite with a longer fuse. Now his music is much more akin to a firework display. Long may he ignite the sky.

Things even get a bit classic rock on the anthemic ‘All The Way’, which features Ride’s Andy Bell, but this self-produced and self-released record is DIY punk through-and-through.

The kids of the LC! still bristle with a fundamental melodic vibrancy, and the hand-in-hand maturing of music-writer Tom Campesinos! into the realms of Sonic Youth thrashes, cranky synthetics and handclaps, harmonium, violin and bar-room piano gives the record a gravitas to counterpoint Gareth's lyrical anguish.

Ace. [15 Oct 2005, p.35]

It’s not only the consistent songwriting clout that elevates this album from recent efforts by Grande’s teen-star peers, Demi Lovato and Selena Gomez. Even if most of it is co-written, the modish message of empowerment feels honest coming from Grande.

Non-conforming, ‘The Off-Season’ is a little bit off in places and its steadiness can be one-note, but it’s still a strong piece technically. You might not play this album every day, but it would still be a strong record for J. Cole to end on.

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.

As long as Braids can escape unscathed from the hype machine, this could be an amazing journey.

Still as sharp and impactful [as 2023's self-titled debut] but focused more on the spaces in between her stories than the plots themselves.

[Producer Bob] Cooper adds gleaming sheen to Hairball’s 10 scrappy, infectious tracks.

There’s also no denying the power of their bittersweet, socially inept aggression, and the ferocity of their sound on Farm. But, as truly gifted as Mascis is on the guitar and as surly as Barlow is vocally, this is merely Dinosaur fossilised, leaving you hankering for something a little more daring.

Ultimately, Jialong is the sound of a producer having the time of his life--and boy oh boy is that infectious.

Love the way cricket brings out people’s most eccentric traits? Then love this.

Endlessly fun, stuffed full of brilliantly left-field production and ear-worm choruses.

For the converts there’s enough familiarity and boundary pushing to justify continuing to invest in this band, right as they begin playing their first headline arena shows on their upcoming spring tour. But for the doubters and sceptics still on the fence, this album might prove even more enjoyable and surprising. Only a fool would deny themselves this collection of big pop bangers.

There are some misfires here and there. ‘Escape’, which details trying to get away from the never-ending plod of everyday life, is so understated that it fails to make an impression. ‘Here I Am’, meanwhile, has the opposite problem – overcooking itself at points into OTT theatrics. Those missteps aside, ‘Melanie C’ is an invigorating, uplifting record.

Scream the words and dive head-first into the Fat Dog experience, because ‘Woof.’ is pure, unbridled escapism – just what the world needs right now.

Their charm lies in the feeling that below the faintly twee, wistful, synthy exterior beats a feisty riot-grrl heart.

['Savior Breath' is] such terrific fun, you can't quite fathom how the same band could be responsible for something like 'Iron Rooster', which moseys on far too long and a little too close to Neil Young's 'Old Man' for comfort, but normal service is thankfully resumed with 'The Neverending Sigh', ensuring the record ends on a fittingly-thunderous note.

Overall, you get the kind of lush musings that’ll soundtrack all the pivotal moments of your wayward summer romance. Blissful.

A decidedly strange record with flashes of beauty and brilliance, then. How utterly Yoko.

While the low-key arrangements and melancholic song choices may make Tinsel And Lights an EastEnders special of a Christmas album, if you're planning on a microwaved turkey dinner for one this year, there's probably no better soundtrack.

With ‘Stereo Mind Game’, Daughter marks a new era of tending to sorrow instead of dwelling in it, where the band wading into new wider ranges of emotion without leaving behind the rich orchestration and poetic lyricism they’re known for.

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.

In the main Dean Wareham is too dreary, too frequently.

Though the guests form a great deal of the fabric of the album, they do so on Battles’ terms, firmly entering their universe. No guest – not even Shabazz Palaces’ flowing verses on ‘Izm’ – steals the show. ... An album – that indulges the weird and wonderful side of Battles while also, simply, giving the people what they want.

Remarkably, with this astounding debut, an unassuming 21-year-old from SW2 has revitalised a forgotten form to make one of the finest forward-thinking British pop albums of recent memory.

A bit of a winner. [17 Sep 2005, p.58]

Barring a late collapse into soft-rock mush on the drifting ‘This Love’ and weepy ‘Clean’, Swift’s plunge into pop is a success.

What's most promising is that GVSB's often melodic noise now, thanks to emo, exists less in weird isolation than it did, and the band seem to be headed dangerously close to getting what they deserve. If this means they must intermittently sound like Feeder, so be it.

There are some particularly heady flavours here to be sure, some blended well, others not.

It’s bonkers, but it’s hard not to be wooed by Moore’s outsider charm.

Their latest album You is very much an acquired taste, a wonky clatter that eight fellas with wayward Warren Ellis beards and DIY instrument workshops in their sheds will surely jizz themselves silly over.

On Always Returning, their fourth album, they've delivered yet again.

Houghton’s control is masterful, not just in translating her thoughts and confusion so pristinely into cracking tunes, but this record is testament to just how undersung she is as a musician.

The Best of Luck Club is not quite as immediate as the bruising garage-rock intensity of her debut, but this is instead a world-building release.

Beyond the familiar name drops and signposts, there are flashes of a band in control of their destiny, and willing to try something new.

While her commitment to reviving the golden age of hip-hop by harking back to the likes of Lil’ Kim and Foxy Brown is admirable, it looks like we’ll have to wait for Milli’s next release for that consistent collection of sure-fire hits we know she’s capable of delivering.

Hozier’s vocal abilities are on full display across ‘Unreal Unearth,’ but much like the album’s instrumentals, it’s his understanding of when to give more understated performances, as on gentle ‘I, Carrion (Icarian)’ or to go full-force, like on the end of pared-back ‘Unknown/Nth’, that make the songs triumph.

Ultimately, ‘Abomination’ feels like the first leap Lynks has taken into showing all their dimensions as an artist. It’s a refreshing change of pace to hear them not just deliver club classics, but also let their spiky persona begin to soften a little. .... The result is a thrilling, moving, life-affirming listen.

‘Smitten’ is a loved-up record that’ll have you falling for Pale Waves all over again.

The Odd Couple contains few hints about where the pair will go next. For now, let’s revel in the fact that soul music hasn’t sounded this fresh and downright freaky for a quarter of a century.

Leaping from its 2009 predecessor, Psychic Chasms, with the first notes of 'Heart: Attack', Era Extrana becomes a lesson in how to execute electronic music properly.

There’s no denying that Heartland is an overflowing well of musical creativity that leaves you feeling like you’ve missed something crucial if you let your attention drift. But the array of sounds can smother the songs.

Holy Fire brings new words to mind. Sharp. Emotive. Massive.

Equal parts The Runaways and Weezer, but still going, and still good.

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.

This rag-tag collection, dating from between 1999 and 2010, sets out his stall as an outsider savant in an Ariel Pink vein.

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.

Oberst’s evocative character studies add intrigue throughout.

No Way Down’s panpipes and ‘Windmill Wedding’s' outro menagerie racket are so gap-year utopian they make you want to ram joss sticks up Air France’s noses. Mighty peculiar.

Pure indie-pop to hold close to your heart.

Despite the sense of chaos, there’s a level of sophistication and poise on show throughout. This record showcases Black Lips in a songwriting prime.

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

It can be dour but that just makes the moments of light, such as the galloping, violin-augmented 'Golden Age', gleam all the brighter.

By digging deeper into her heritage and her own psyche, Cabello has created her richest and most compelling album yet.

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.

Their seventh album finds the London indie veterans dusting their melancholy songs with hope and loveable melodies, each a compelling tale in its own right.

An engrossing, bleak and often warming set of exotica, vintage pop and childlike pizzazz.

All of this unique oddness would not, of course, mean a thing without the music, and this is an album without a single duff track. More than that, it has plenty of exceptional ones. [2 Apr 2005, p.46]

There’s no build-up here – the record begins at maximum intensity, a full throttle barrage of chainsaw guitars and hyperspeed drums. .... The problem, however, is that immediacy can be a double-edged sword – there are points on ‘Blindness’ calling out for more work.

A hodgepodge of styles (electronica, jazz, reggae, rock and classical) is finessed into something stirringly cohesive.

From the moment ‘Bombs Away’ hoves menacingly into view, it’s clear this is Eels at their most visceral.

His many personas have made for an oddly characterless record.

For all its prettiness, though, Passerby is a record that boasts about as much excitement as a gentle breeze, and its rewards are too few and far between.

A 30-track nonsense-o-paedia of speed-metal twatabouts. [9 Apr 2005, p.58]

For Nao, it’s also a representation of the growth (and heartache and pain) she’s pushed through in the decade since her debut and how she’s come out the other side, lighter, warmer and happier – but just as brilliant.

Is much, much better than a record made by chronically drunk middle-aged men has any right to be.

She may not have written the words, but Björk's emotional investment in songs like 'I've Seen It All' (really sad) and 'Scatterheart' (really really sad) is undeniable; making this album - 'in character' as poor, doomed Selma - totally seductive as A Björk Record.

It's no classic, but there are reassuringly unhealthy signs of life.

Woptober II is much more intimate. ... A lot has changed since it was last open season on Gucci Mane. The optimism and positivity on this album is infectious, even when he’s reminded of the darker times.