Spring King are at their restless best when Musa--who sometimes vomits on and just-offstage from exhaustion--sounds uncomfortable.

Patience is impressive, for sure, but The Invisible still leave us wanting to see much, much more.

Strange Little Birds is a record that’s human to its very core, revelling in flaws and failures, but never losing hope. And in that way, it’s the perfect mirror for its creators’ 22-year career.

A direct continuation of the Gaslight man’s Americana-driven Horrible Crowes side project of 2011, only imbued with more confidence.

Bass, horns, strings, organ and choir provide the backbone, and when Whitney allow themselves to kick it up a gear and really let rip, as on ‘Golden Days’ (with its cathartic “Na na na” outro) or the George Harrison-meets-The Band magnificence of ‘Dave’s Song’, they’re untouchable.

An album packed with shimmering highlights.

ever. The Kills are finally hitting their peak, but a low-key kind of peak.

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.

A melancholy blend of shoegaze, hardcore and alt rock overlaid with Palermo’s dark and dreamy vocals.

As on their debut, the sound is slick and polished and the songs are snappy and unpretentious, but there’s a lack of wit or invention.

Most tracks last over five minutes and the longest comes in at 12. It gives the impression that Toledo is doing what he wants and making the music he wants to hear. You can’t help but love him for it.

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.

Cloud Nine could certainly do with a few more musical ideas, but this shouldn’t trouble Kygo unduly--after all, the same problem never held back David Guetta and Calvin Harris.

There’s surely enough here to bag him some space under Rihanna’s umbrella-ella-ella.

These People is the solo record most aligned to Ashcroft’s Verve peak, right down to employing the same string arranger and bunging on one gigantic romance anthem, ‘This is How It Feels’.

Fizzingly fun, this third mixtape sees Chance finessing but certainly not hampering, his freewheeling nature.

Seemingly existing on a higher plane, this feels like upended R&B beamed down from outer space, encapsulating everything from the smoothness of Sade to the edginess of Aaliyah.

Konnichiwa is a landmark in British street music, a record good enough to take on the world without having to compromise one inch in the process.

An album of eerie, elusive beauty.

The album was recorded in close friend Ben Kramer's house in leafy Massachusetts and is plush with piano, trumpet (from Will Miller of fellow Chicagoans Whitney) and a more mature take on their Rolling Stones obsession. The five-piece have added consideration and restraint to their usual wheezing approach.

Every so often a new band will arrive clamouring that guitar music isn’t dead, as if they’re mid-CPR. Yak have crash-landed clutching its still-beating heart, wearing an irrepressible grin.

Features Blake's richest and most emotionally resonant work yet.

It can be a taxing eardrum workout--its beefed-up guitar work (from Walker, Stu Mackenzie and Cook Craig) and jackhammer rhythms (drumming duo Michael Cavanagh and Eric Moore) barely let up. But it’s also loads of fun.

Making relevant, accessible, uncringey protest music in this day and age is such a difficult task that most artists have decided not to bother. Anohni has been brave enough to take that risk, and the most vital album of recent times is the reward.

Cohen’s obvious enthusiasm for his music humanises the man behind the headlines.

Views should be a slog. But remarkably, his signature brand of downbeat introspection remains gripping.

White Lung have somewhat softened their ragged edges and in doing so have created one of the most compelling albums of the year.

The problem is that Ferg fails to provide a coherent musical vision to go with these compelling reminiscences.