Only the appearance of Barbadian teen rap prodigy Haleek Maul, annotating the grimy 'ISIS' with a murky charisma saves Supreme Cuts from slipping completely between the cracks.

Peggy Sue’s fourth LP impresses throughout, a record of soulful depths and heady, emotional highs.

Overall Trouble bristles with the freedom of early Breeders or Throwing Muses.

By drinking deep from the coolest records and the hippest poets, Penny succeeds in beginning a new chapter for her band.

Mostly Ghettoville is an exciting new landscape to get lost in and explore, even if it does spell the end for Actress.

While their true believers might not mind the record’s overall lack of variety, for anyone new to the band there’s little on None The Wiser to separate them from the indie-rock chaff.

Lee’s lyrics are sometimes sentimental to the point of potentially seeming trite, but they’re logical for a situation where love and pain have become so overwhelming that simple statements seem the most trustworthy.

A collection of astounding anthems for a new tomorrow, made by the disaffected youth of today.

This is a deeply personal record, unequivocally sensual.

It’s Grace’s own personal journey with gender dysphoria in ‘True Trans Soul Rebel’, ‘Paralytic States’ and ‘Drinking With The Jocks’ that has the most impact, though, the latter being the sort of raging polemic that proves the hardcore spirit of Black Flag is still alive and kicking.

Rave Tapes doesn’t stray far from the Mogwai comfort zone, but nor is it the sound of a band clapped out. Nineteen years in, there are still crescendos left to climb.

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.

Brothers And Sisters Of The Eternal Son bills itself as a concept album, a road movie with no end, but the songs are tight, the meaning incidental and any big ideas play second fiddle to bewitching tunes and delicate harmonies.

Mournful, moving and minor key, Age suggests The Hidden Cameras’ defiant sexual politics are still vital.

Waking Lines is a success.

A dusky delight.

Band moniker-related developments of recent years (see also: Ducktails, Peak Twins) mean this now implies gormless nostalgia, smarmy irony and, in a nutshell, chillwave. Happily, Lowtalker--five songs, 14 minutes--is a bit smarter, and better, than that.

Only a smidgeon less euphoric than ‘EP-1’, EP-2 is another brief broadside that further justifies Pixies’ drip-drip release plan, keeping their ten-year-tour on the road and the intrigue of their new material relentlessly fresh.

Her 2011 debut 'Hearts' had the drift and shimmer of shoegaze, but Chiaroscuro is sharper, even flirting with techno on the densely layered 'Faith' and handclapping electro on 'Denial' as Lindén tries out all the electronic styles of the 1980s.

It’s well executed, quite odd, highly original and full of promise--exactly what you want from a debut album.

Rarely has reliability been this funky.

Still The Boss.

Caoimhe Derwin and Jessie Ward’s guitars have perfected that Jesus And Mary Chain kettle-whistle sound, lending a haunted air to otherwise energetic stomps like ‘Heartbeats’ and ‘Talking.

Here he tightens the screws a bit to make 12 purposeful, concise tracks.

Climax polishes Beastmilk’s iron-curtained grandiosity slightly (‘Ghosts Out Of Focus’ is eerily like Suede), while maintaining the Cold War-era paranoia in their lyrics.

The nine tracks here turn to the old-school and the classic, making the carols you sung at school into something better suited to a night doing shots of eggnog in Fat Mike’s shed.

Burial’s success has brought with it imitators, but with this EP he’s outwitted them all by introducing a gloriously widened palate to his music that is both instantly familiar and shockingly unlikely.

If Skinner is coasting on production duties, then Harvey is overcompensating on the vocals.