Gibbs is a masterful curator who knows who to match his flows with, like on God is Perfect and Look at Me, splicing soul loops, movie clips, and inventive beats etched into his gruff vocals. The beats are an attraction in itself, but make no mistake: they wouldn't be as good if Gibbs weren't behind the mic spitting his poetic yet matter-of-fact observations.

For All We Know is an extremely accomplished debut from a supremely talented artist.

Wicked City proves that Jockstrap have nothing if not range, and secures their place as one of the UK’s most intriguing new bands.

This brief collection of tracks shows growth and expansion whilst maintaining the addictive pop elements and retro recording style that made us fall in love with I Will Be.

There's nothing here with quite the same catchiness that The Field somehow achieved on the head-nodders A Paw In My Face or The More That I Do, but each track is a fascinating experiment in sound, and this is perhaps his strongest record yet.

The swinging electro-pop of Wild Times might sound out of place on a record like this, but when it's executed this infectiously, the change in mood is more than forgiven. Creevy sounds freer than ever, reclaiming her life amidst romantic entanglements that are equal parts vulnerable and resilient.

While it may not be the greatest thing to ever come out of the Po-Mo singer-songwriter scene, Lily Perdida offers plenty to admire.

Mrs. Piss’ sound is original, raucous, and delightfully angry. Self-Surgery’s only flaw is its brevity; hopefully, we’ll be hearing more from Mrs. Piss in the future.

Tonal changes aside, those worried if Deerhunter have stepped away from their feverish art rock needn't worry. Futurism is one of their most sparkling tracks to date, as it enjoys one of those chromatic guitar riffs (accomplished with the assistance of White Fence's Tim Presley) they've been writing since their Microcastle days.

For all the missteps along the way, El-P arrives somewhere quite poignant, and although he may not have paved his own way there, his route is quite impressive, and there is no wasted beat and no unseen seriousness and intensity.

Rarely is an electronic album like sparked with such radical confidence.

The Haunted Man is so effortlessly emotive that it seems to demand that we demand even more from it. Or at least, it would, if it weren't so easy to get lost in the many layers of these melodies and start thinking about the ghosts that Bat For Lashes is trying to chase away.

This is one of the few releases of 2008 that shook me out of my complacency and forced me to accept it on its own terms.

Stylistically eclectic, or maybe even chaotic, Obey is a sublime release, its melancholic moments offered grace and any ounce of frenzy more subtle than overt.

Loney, Noir is a beautiful serving of melancholia, and one of the most interesting and fully realised home recordings I’ve heard in a long time.

From the album's onset, you're treated to both the abrasive and the profane.

The theme is relatable, and relevant because it encompasses more than that one side of desire we all expect to hear about. This exploration and focus is what held together Eels’ 1998 masterwork, "Electro-Shock Blues." It does the same here.

It’s grandly impressive and points to potentially greater things in the future.

The Stand Ins is a solid achievement cut from the same charming cloth, even if it doesn’t crisp in quite the same way "The Stage Names" did.

There may be some subtle shifts here and there, but overall, The Prettiest Curse revels in the simple pleasures of big hooks, chunky chord changes, and sing-a-long melodies.

Lennon and Saunier interact with kindred sensibility.

Silence Yourself is more than just this year’s best debut record so far and even more than one of the best records of any kind this year. It could be the closest post-punk has come to full-bodied artistry since Interpol took their own post-punk influences and gave us Turn On The Bright Lights all those years ago.

As it is, Joy As An Act Of Resistance is shot through with stand-out moments, a great offering that you suspect will well and truly bring the house down when the band hits the road.

Even through all the morass, a vague optimism seems to always seep through; he plays with our senses, waiting for that final act to pull a disappearing act that can leave one utterly spellbound.

Locked Down is the result of a synergy between musicians of different generations – both have something to bring to the party, and the combination is compelling. It is an album of rare energy, heat, sweat and motion, and a salutary lesson to all that age need not diminish one's mojo.

Endearingly sorrowful without descending into outright misery, Leaders Of The Free World is exactly what we the listeners should expect from a band's third album.

The sturdy, timeless pop Edkins accomplishes often gets taken for granted, which, really, is the doomed story of power pop in a nutshell. But for a good 30-plus minutes, he convinces you that its ability to please is undeniable.

With Open Here, Field Music sound like they’re not only investing in their stability but in their future as well.

Fade is a sign of perseverance for the group, as the album perfectly details just what is so essential and appealing about the group, and why there will always be a place for these guys in the world of indie rock.

Unsurprisingly Heartbreak is a grower. At first it does sound minimalist and sparse but the album is layered with delicacy and marked with a maturity.

We Will Always Love You is an impressive mediation on everything that matters, and of letting go of what doesn’t.

The vocal hooks and catchy choruses that have brought Nada Surf this far have only gotten better.

It's a new start for an artist who many had proclaimed early retirement. And even if he hasn't cheered up, his return does feel consistent with his downtrodden nature—and we can only listen as it all unfolds.

Circumambulation practically evades any trace of sheen that was found on their two previous efforts. The differences are minimal but not predictable, lying somewhere between sludgy stoner metal and expansive, yet acute rhythmic precision; it’s their ability to never stand on solid ground that elevates their caliginous mid-tempo tunes.

Outside Closer weaves an oddly distinctive set of roundelays between the Air-like poppiness and cheery melancholia of the negatives and the Massive Attack jams with The Clash in Reykjavik melancholia of winter 72, concluding with two of the most depressing songs I’ve ever heard.

MØ might have just released the freshest, most joyful pop record of 2014 (even if we heard most of it in 2012-3).

Yesterday and Today is a brilliant sequel, one that retains the strongest elements of its predecessor whilst bravely pushing forward into new territory.

Kendrick Lamar may not have saved hip-hop, but he's certainly provided us with one of 2012's best records.

It's the murkier-in-tone moments that stand out: while The Price Was High emerges with spellbinding dissonance and keeps the tension throughout, A Hitch surrounds its ringing hook with rippling guitar work. Tarantula is poised to become a staple on their future setlists alongside past singles like Winona, on which the band turns up the tempo with a driving melodic groove that satisfyingly fades as soon as it hits.

With The Best of Luck Club, Lahey has surpassed the achievement of her fantastic debut, changing things up enough musically to keep it fresh, but without losing any of the wit or songwriting prowess that made her one of the best young artists working today.

There have definitely been many bold and exciting extreme metal releases as of recent, but As The Stars is not just daring--it’s incredibly listenable, too.

Tres Cosas does then what all good third albums should do – it takes the best bits from her earlier works, perfects the model, and then goes a little bit further.

With the zeal of archivists and a yen for experimentation, they have found strength in giving tribute to their influences, reaffirming the role of interpretation in contemporary music.

What’s most apparent on this record is that despite having a fairly eclectic approach to creating a pop song, and cooking up the occasionally psych-y moment to epic-ify the songs, if there’s one emphasis on here, it’s on great melodies.

Memoirs at the End of the World, as ambitious as it seems, never seems to overstate it’s welcome.

All in all, this is another first-rate effort from one of the most deviant voices in hardcore.

Shade, Harris’ most varied release yet, feels like the broadest and most crisp view of this vista yet, with clear, starlit openings (Unclean Mind), vast ambient gaps (Ode to the Blue), and hazy nebulas (Disordered Minds) coming together to form a stargazer’s dream.

Rocket shows far more sophisticated rhythmic interplay than some of their shoegaze-leaning contemporaries on this debut.

These are songs that mostly get to the heart of the matter with open-hearted directness, and in balancing the coarse with the refined there’s a clearer sense of what Scott wants to find even if she struggles to understand the conditions that affect her most deeply.

While no commercial crossover will be gained from Eye Contact, Gang Gang Dance have released one of the most captivating albums of the year, each song different yet cohesive, challenging and ultimately highly rewarding.

Quiet or not, and despite the jazz-trained musicianship on display, Pearce’s production never buries the vocals—Stokes’ or anyone else’s for that matter. In The Beths’ case, their most valuable instruments are the ones they were born with—and that shines through every step of the way.

Mitski’s boldness is hugely impressive, and couple that with the fact the record is so expertly mixed and edited, she has produced one of the year’s more complete LPs.

It’s a sharpening of the ideas introduced on Addiction to Blood, performed with clipping.’s classic graveness which only supports how scary this album can be.

As bouncy as it is insightful, as flashy as it is understated.

So Long Forever has a knack of sounding nothing like your prototypical debut album, with no sign of any unsanded edges or rawness. Instead, the album’s sound is that of a band that have honed their sound over a number of exponentially strong releases.

Entrancing in its stillness, Phantom Brickworks solidifies Bibio as an artist of remarkable versatility.

Applied with both spunk and sophistication, The Courtneys II is a laudable follow-up that deftly captures their growing musical rapport.

Hold Time is a wonderful, wistful collection of songs from an artist who has really started to hit his stride.

Simply put, Post Self is another stunning addition to Godflesh’s uncompromising thirty-year run.

mbv follows its predecessor without aggrandizing its past resources, and as such, delivers a wallop of sweet, sweet distortion in a way that comes naturally to them.

They made one of the most interesting records of the year.

Since The Seldom Seen Kid's release it seems everyone and everyone's mum are now fans of the band. Though Build A Rocket Boys! is a strong album, it never quite matches the rampant grace of that record and in many ways caters to their more tested demographic.

Lost Worker Bee makes for a lovely epilogue to this period of the band's existence, incorporating the best of their qualities while also diving into previously unexplored musical landscapes.

The record manages to sound venturous and recklessly current. Iqbal’s use of chiming guitars, serendipitous synths and scurrying beats results in a record that is opulent in its warmth and sparklingly neat.

Bish Bosch is a wilder, more scattered (and scatty, in the case of Epizootics!, ten minutes of sax-driven jazz which could almost be seen as accessible, if it wasn't so dark and threatening) work than its immediate predecessors.

Modestly anthemic and quietly anthemic, ƒIN is worth the time of any music fan that considers themselves in the slightest bit interested in electronic music.

Loom seems to touch upon many periods within the extensive annals of indie pop, but Fear of Men put their own stamp with smart, modish pop tunes that intend to make sorrow, in the face of uncertainty, sound invigorating.

It’s mesmerizing background music that doesn’t pass judgment if you let it take a secondary role in your daily life.

You may not love it, but you'll probably like it, and that's enough.

What makes My Woman great isn't the new synths or the rockier tone. It's Olsen herself, filling these songs with the love, desire, anguish and acceptance that comes from her perspective as a woman.

Whirr crafts their own mold out of their influences, and, with an effort that feels grand and mesmerizing as it does dreary and bleak, Around hits the nail on the head and all those long lost sentiments of not having a shoegaze band to get behind seem to dissipate.

Half Free is both a revelation and a breakthrough, one that finds Remy elevating her songwriting panache while carrying a certain mysticism that seems grounded in both plausibility and commonality.

Chelsea Wolfe captured the essence of the album title eloquently, succeeding in making an album that is frighteningly honest, poignant, and graceful.

The power of this album comes from the mystifyingly cohesive blend of piano ballads, orchestral choirs, heavy metal, and completely danceable electronic.

Adele and her team have crafted an album that's both full of songs that have the potential to reach the upper reaches of the charts, and also a collection of songs that hang together as an album.

The Ascension bobs along in a meandering sea of drum machine and synth pads, waiting for something to latch on to. It never takes long; Stevens has the ideas and they hit relentlessly, moving on and doubling over before you’ve had half a chance to process them.

What's astonishing about Breakup Song is how it maintains an intuitive notion of coherence, even with its handling of contradictions. All the while making it look easy.

All in all, A Celebration of Endings is a curious, often potent blend of sounds and influences. While lyrically dark, its exploration is more often than not a very satisfying ride into the unknown.

The more you listen to this record, the more it impresses you, even if their name is downright awful.

Future Self sounds like a developing band, but one that's developing in some incredible directions. None of it is glaringly new, but they sound quietly innovative, developing their own unique take on indie rock.

Her ability on both sides of the mixing deck is on full display throughout Losing, and her latest work strengthens her case as a supremely talented songwriter and producer.

This is not for all tastes. Slow, broody, experimental.

Harvey’s audio experiments are celebrated with the release of each new album. But I wonder what she would do without any limitations.

Ultimately, a surprisingly successful mood piece, there’s a lot of fat to cut through--but this actually becomes one of the album’s more winning attributes.

Sure, there aren’t quite the visceral heights that the best tracks on w h o k i l l provided, but you will not be thinking that during Nikki Nack’s best moments. Listen to the words she says, let them sink into your head.

Complete Mountain Almanac is a superficially pretty album, but you’ll need to afford it your full attention to unearth its full charms and appreciate its emotional depth. Grab your best headphones and really listen; you’ll soon discover there’s something very special going on here.

Fohr details her cathartic experience with a smothering array of droning textures and clashing orchestral elements, where she succeeds at making sense out of her cosmic encounter.

A bold, brave, and beautiful record.

Transit Transit justly follows the digitalized distortion their debut paved, keeping a decidedly drab mood that permeates throughout the entire production.

The intensity of the music and interplay between the trio remains firmly intact and stronger than ever.

They pull from various sources and somehow manage to make them unrecognizable; the mélange of influences so rich and varied--changeable almost by the minute--they constantly keep you guessing.

Two is a gem amongst the labyrinthine post-Cap’n Jazz projects.

The creative zeal McCombs displays on Mangy Love, and his willingness to take some chances, even if low stakes, engages both the heart and the mind.

With Blackstar, Bowie disengages himself once again from popular opinion and scoffs at the idea of taking the righteous path, finding inspiration in what is immoral and contentious. But in doing so he also finds an artful niche that suits his sixty nine years of age.

The Man Who Died avoids the stigma of outtakes releases because it’s an ideal entry point into one of the most distinctive, fascinating musicians of our time.

At 41 minutes, this album covers every type of song Isbell does best; from tight rockers to disappointed country tunes, Reunions hits the spot.

Callahan continues to be a nature's poet, painting his imagery with the most carefully detailed observations of the everyday.

"Matured" is an overused word in music criticism, but that's what No Age have done. They've evolved in a completely logical direction in ways that are pleasantly surprising but never jarring.