Rather than being owned by their demons, The Twilight Sad have created an 11-track exorcism to master them. It’s a full-bodied and inescapable mood-piece, and a visceral account of their victory in the fight to exist. We should feel grateful to have them.

Rat Boy’s international profile might be growing, but he’s not ready to conquer the world just yet.

He’s a unique talent, no doubt, and has once again made a work on his terms. It’s at times an exasperating listen, but that’s kind of the point.

Though this record is as polished as anything they’ve done before, it somehow feels easier to break through the sheen, and get to the heart this time around.

The most promising debut of the year so far.

Gallipoli is almost always an intriguing listen. Soaking the sound they’ve spent over a decade cultivating in dazzling Italian sun, Beirut’s latest is a welcome summer holiday.

These 10 tracks contain a dark power, an atavistic pull. Give in to their bad romance.

As a solo artist who’s far eclipsed the output of his former epoch-defining band, no one can criticise Brown for trying. But he can definitely do better.

Highlight ‘Swamp And Bay’ offers a rare hook-laden respite with a country-ish radio jangle and scuzz-rock climax, but everything stays consistently true to the core of the record: a very human and honest partnership, in a universe all of their own.

Encore essentially mingles mellowed ska and reggae with funk disco, Latin hints and spoken-word pieces.

It’s their most mature and measured album, both lyrically and musically.

Effortless and fearless, Sunflower Bean’s latest is a breakneck showcase of the trio’s talent. With each tune a high-octane chunk of the bold, New York indie the band have honed, it’s a triumph.

It’s too long (16 tracks), musically all over the place (veering from Littlewoods advert pop-house to Smooth Radio schmaltz) and, above all, wants so hard to be liked that it sounds like an earnest school project. However: for its occasional tedium, it would take a hard heart indeed to reject this record.

Succeeds as a standalone work, regardless of its authors’ statuses in the indie-folk world.

Respectful enough to rouse any struggling family gathering but knowing enough to amuse those in on the joke, The Teal Album at once satirises the covers album and makes a decent stab at perfecting it.

Stuffed with fizzing hooks and brilliantly frank lyrics, Almost Free could be FIDLAR’s best record yet. A blistering collection of eclectic tunes threaded together by punks’ fearless riffs and unguarded admissions, which add even more weight to their sound, it’s a reminder of how much we’ve missed them. Welcome back, lads.

None of these 13 tracks break the three-minute mark, but each works an enormous amount of inventiveness into its brief running time.

The various dark and mechanical intermission tracks on the album make for the most experimental peaks and exciting signposts to the future, but nothing compares to ‘Nihilist Blues’, a robotic and apocalyptic blast of Eurodance featuring guest vocals and mad noises from art-pop icon Grimes.

There’s something to be said for creating music exclusively for the club or to be bumped in car stereos in the summer, but with a bland, out-dated musical architecture, The WIZRD doesn’t even offer that. I

Assume Form finds James Blake clear-headed and in focus like never before. The influence of his new partner (actor Jameela Jamil) can be felt throughout.

The record’s constant dive through history often comes at the cost of consistency and a solid sonic identity, though, for the most part feeling more like a scrapbook of ideas in transition than the work of such an established act.

Remind Me Tomorrow, then, serves not so much as a nudge, but a forceful and playful shove to remind listeners just how special Van Etten’s talent is on both a lyrical and musical level. Don’t call it a comeback, but it may well be her most intoxicating and impressive work to date.

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

On the intoxicating Heard It In A Past Life, Rogers sounds in love with art, nature and life itself.

Come the closing ‘Nocturne’, Bradford is wailing into a malfunctioning microphone like the late, great Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse phoning a wasted lullaby home with one unreliable bar of phone coverage, and ‘…Disappeared?’ becomes less Cox’s ‘High Violet’, more his ‘Low’. This is how you turn pop into art.

He’s the most successful former One Direction member with good reason, and this album is a high-water mark for the 25-year-old.

Evil Genius is a perfect distillation of his talent, and we’re unlikely to see him outdo it, but it also underlines his unique position as bonafide star and rap outsider. This may be the biggest he’s ever allowed to get.

Some of Skins is good, some of it is not good. Musically, the tone is, mostly, consistent and effective, and the album’s overall effect is that of a sickly, vivid insight into a troubled life. And there’s not much else to say about it.