It's a wholesome piece of work that just keeps on giving.

There's really nothing to criticise on Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son; it's Damien Jurado's strongest album to date.

The dynamics of their indie-punk have never been sharper or more finely attuned to the spin of their forlornness.

Every element of Close to the Glass feels like it has been minutely polished; like the workings of a miniature pocket watch, it all feels succinct, gleaming and fresh.

It's clever, sure, but it's high-grade, pedal-hopping rock music by the same token.

Many a songwriter has tortured themselves to twist and turn these experiences into new metaphorical shapes, but Jacklin has resisted. By laying out her honest realities in plain sight, she has not only allowed herself to heal, but she has offered a healing process to others.

So It Goes leaves a refreshing aftertaste on the musical palette and feeds the masses a full course of east coast education.

This is an exhaustive, but not exhausting collection. It will be fascinating to hear what surprises lie ahead on Volume 2.

Everything's connected on Chiaroscuro, providing an extra jolt of energy and plentiful scope for hidden nuggets upon repeated listens than if it was just chopped up singles.

Rarely is it as uplifting as his debut, but it's often as anthemic, and nurtures an ember of depth that may have been glossed over before.

He’s gone as far as he can go, done all he can. He’s lost in a bursting world of endless storefronts, in an America he no longer recognizes. He hasn’t a clue what he needs, only that he needs it. Songs as easy to imbibe to as to heave a sigh to, these are fogged, fading portraits for the ages. We all need a new war.

They sound as powerful as ever, and their penchant for weaving subtle folk melodies amongst their noise is still pretty special.

Passerby may not be so suited to the blazing sunshine and the accompanying revelry of summer, but there are few albums that provide a better soundtrack for blissful solitude.

Though the record as a whole is phenomenal, there's a particularly toothsome middle third, the highlight of which is 'Say It Once's thrilling shift into top gear.

What has changed is that this time around is that she swapped out the usual 8-track recorder she usually used to lay down her vocal parts and instead recorded them with producer Arthur Rizk in an actual studio. Far from distilling any of the fury from her pipes (which sometimes sound on the verge of shredding themselves) the added clarity does a lot to boost the emotional wallop of her words especially on the more vulnerable moments.

It doesn't offer any real answers or solutions, nor should it have to. Instead, it offers something more valuable than other albums exploring heavily topical subjects occasionally lack: empathy. Which is something we could all use in these fraught times.

Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light On Everything finds the Orchestra in combative mood, kicking against the economic ills of the western world and delivering a terminal prognosis for global democracy as a whole. More importantly, and as dogmatic and stubborn as ever, they continue to do what they do best; enjoying making a wonderful racket.

At times The Lamb can feel inscrutable, like it's keeping you just out of reach, but on the jazzy lull of closer 'See You at Home', Lala Lala finally let you in on the heartbreak. The pain's soft when they break it to you.

Mykki is a well-crafted, incisive debut record that proves to be well worth the wait.

With clear intent, Omoiyari is a strong example of that rare moment when a musician finds their true stride later in their career. Kishi Bashi has offered up a truly essential statement.

It’s a wounding, life-affirming ride.

Pop culture's reigning diva appeared in raw form--a vulnerable mess and unapologetically enraged as she thematically confronted her husband and father's alleged infidelity publicly, through visceral imagery and emotionally loaded sonic offerings.

It shimmers with an enchanting beauty that this writer at least has yet to find in any other song this year.

There is evolution on The Future and the Past and a real sense that Prass has done what she set out to do: make an album that, like the work of Marvin Gaye, gets people thinking and resolving to take action, all the while shaking their hips to the undeniable groove.

Amidst the swathes of memorable hooks, pulsation of electro-beats and persistent homage to acts like New Order and Iron Curtain, Bigger Than Life proves to be much more than an amalgamation of pretty and fun sounds. There’s real emotional weight, rooted in nostalgia and that in-between feeling of well, being in between.

Ohmme deliver on magnificently over 9 fully realised tracks that demand attention.

The music is bigger, bolder and more direct, but crucially there is still that lingering murkiness on the edges.

This is a fraught and definite collection of the uttermost importance. For the first time in their career, the end of the album doesn't feel like the extinction of Dodos, but instead an invigoration.

So Deep Fantasy works as ten lithe, wiry punk ragers, ten howls into our personal nothingness. It works very well as that. But it's more.

White Reaper Does It Again is undoubtedly a summer album.

Their latest adds a number of new facets to their performance, without diluting what makes their reality any less romantic.

This One’s for the Dancer & This One’s for the Dancer’s Bouquet will take you to the end of the world, and back, and keeping your head nodding to a gentle groove throughout. It just might be a feat worthy of Greek myth.

The hazy, dream-pop vibe mixed with piano bar works. Take a listen. Soon you'll be lost in the worlds of melancholy and the sublime.

Although elements remain, the core of humanity and character drive this collection to an equally intriguing effect and leaves a far more immediate impression.

Though as a collection Moth is both fascinating and fun, demonstrative of what can be achieved when you focus on substance over style.

The Long Goodbye successfully captures the atmosphere, the tears, the laughter, the unbridled joy of that last ever gig, that final blowout, like a time capsule to be preserved forever more and to keep the spirit of LCD Soundsystem alive.

Whilst sounding altogether more psychologically and sonically cluttered, the challenges this album presents are as invigorating as its rewards--poetic beauty can still be found amidst the lysergic confusion.

All in all it's a time of self-expression and free-revelation, common features that make Love's Crushing Diamond so very beguiling, and warm its very earnest center.

While Starboy may not be a giant creative risk stretching away and beyond what we've come to expect from The Weeknd (like many of his A list peers such as Beyoncé, Rihanna and Kanye West have done with their albums earlier this year), it's a continuation of Abel's edgy salacious narrative and a complete assassination of pop's thematic normalcy.

On Party her songs are minimalistic, but they carry an emotional weight to which no one is able to stay indifferent.

It can be a little exhausting having to process so many conflicting and volatile emotions welling to the surface at once, but, like The Sunday Gift, Darker Than Blue isn't without its beauty either. Those moments can feel hard won though, especially considering all of the turmoil surrounding them.

After The Disco is an unashamedly brilliant pop album that might just be the right kind of stuff to get you through the remains of winter.

Sometimes, plucking a dandelion from between the cracks of the sidewalk, "just because", is transcendent. And Seraph is one of the prettiest damn dandelions in quite some time.

Sonically and conceptually, the all-purpose artist isn't interested in coloring in between the lines, but focused instead on offering a vibrant option to things once defined as black and white.

There is song crafting of an exceptional variety as Sermanni delivers ten solid songs, the longest just a touch under five minutes, that all have an important story to tell.

This is Shearwater taking a leap out of their usual rustic world and it's a world in which they could thrive in the future. If they don't come back here again, Jet Plane and Oxbow presents a wonderful snapshot.

As a result of this restraint, his latest record is a more challenging proposition, forcing the listener to question the vintage of everything they are hearing, and blurring the lines between all of the various pictures he chucks together.

ANIMA isn't an overly kind record. It is, however, eternally honest.

A snappy, hilarious, disturbing, damnably catchy, but most importantly, complete showcase for one of the most exciting young musicians to emerge--in any genre--for some time.

Dark Days + Canapés is quite simply Ghostpoet’s most accomplished record to date. As lyrically smart as his debut, and building on three albums’ worth of musical experimentation, it feels like Ejimiwe has finally found his niche.

It feels less like album and more like a smorgasbord of everything Kimbra loves, and not in a bad way at all.

Channelling the vivacity of the Beatnik poets in her hurtling metre and arrestingly forensic imagery, Tempest unravels a modesty in the metaphysics all the more powerful for its naturalism.

MCIII is a great record because it gives us a scattered, messy, but uncompromisingly honest portrait of Cronin himself. Nothing is overthought, nothing is too considered.

The album closes with appropriately titled 'Come Down', a sparse and intimate song with earnest vocals and harmonies that ease the reader out of an intoxicating album-induced daze.

With Seek Warmer Climes' slight redirection, Toubro and Lower offer mantras to live by, beguilingly presented and difficult to ignore, but with a serious sting in the tail.

Stranger to Stranger is a pleasure-filled exploration of rhythm, melody, instrumentation and lyrical themes which has joyful experimentation at its heart.

Wiley has curated a project that binds the generations of Grime and acts as the final confirmation of the genre’s return.

With a release drowning in possibilities, Floating Points' latest is a humbling work of art, ridden in environmental discoveries, alongside an empowering sense of mental stability.

The imperfections and the what-ifs are exactly what make it so intriguing as a glimpse of where Holley could take things. It’s an album which poses more questions than it answers. It gets under your skin like a tick. It leads you to the river but never forces to drink. It leaves you wondering what Black Foxxes are trying to say, but never gives you the answers. The scab of the question itches, and you’re left wanting nothing but to scratch it.

His debut album experiments with intense sincerity and captivating subtleties in the lyrics and melodies respectively.

Useless Coordinates is not perfect, and there are some flat moments, such as ‘Unwound’ which is very artrock-by-numbers, but overall this is an album which kicks arse and promises much for the future from a band clearly enamoured with the idea of challenging themselves and their audience.

Much like its cover art, Cocoon Crush can be recognized as something familiar, but you’re unlikely to be able to glean just what that is. It lies, distant and in waiting, ready to challenge you, with Objekt ever-seeking to open, both for his listeners and himself, new possibilities.

Throughout, the vocals are natural and organic which allowed an artistic endeavour like If I Was to even take shape. Growth is the life force of any artist. If I Was is proof of this.

Minus Tide is a record that lets you recall the best moments from vacations both real and imagined in a way that's better and brighter than the original experience.

You can’t say that Two Hands is an overtly hopeful album, but it is far from hopeless. Rather, it is realistic and grounded. Big Thief’s restraint in adding the production wizardry they showcased on U.F.O.F. is a key move to making the songs of Two Hands really hit their mark.

It's a thrilling ride.

uknowhatimsayin¿ may not immediately shine as brightly as the grandly ambitious and fearlessly experimental XXX or Atrocity Exhibition, and some of its tracks and vocal hooks are a little undercooked, but Brown’s latest reveals itself more and more with each listen.

The Far Field is a triumph--it shows Future Islands refusing to buckle under newfound pressure, and instead creating another stellar record to add to their burgeoning catalogue.

This is music full of heart and imagination and it is well worth investigating, even though some long standing fans of hers may be puzzled at first.

This brand of tell-all genreless rock may seem impenetrable at first, but a few listens is all it takes before you’ll be hooked by Richard Dawson’s paranoia, honesty and poetry.

No Life For Me might be fast, but my god, will you enjoy the ride.

Wildflower might not be perfect, but it is gorgeous, heartwarming and fun. Its upbeat outlook is infectious and sure to be the soundtrack to many summers to come.

For those who are willing and eager to succumb to Stetson’s idiosyncratic sound, pressing play on this album is like stepping into his wilderness, and if you’re prepared to be battered by typhoon-like playing and virtuosic arrangements of sound, then you’ll come out the other side thrilled and refreshed.

Six albums in, Hot Chip are still making stunning pop records filled with a barrage of dancefloor wonders that are packed with heart and soul. That's enough to show why we still need Hot Chip in our lives.

So whilst there are shades of Jan St. Werner, Brian Eno and Yellow Magic Orchestra, the result is a series of soundscapes like nothing else.

What Now contemplates private change of circumstance and personhood with pathos, kindness, and humour, and bangs fervidly in the process.

They haven't changed their sound, more developed it. They've kept the rawness, the pop songwriting and uncompromising attitude but pushed it sonically further than many would have ever expected them to.

Not one second of How To Die in the North feels over-worked or incongruous.

A truly wonderful record that deserves attention, as does the work of Arthur Russell.

Impressions is a special record, coloured by climbing compositions as cavernous spaces of reflective quiet. It’s deeply feeling, and deeply felt.

He is undoubtedly an absurdly talented fellow, and has the creative potential to make a truly ground breaking album. This isn’t that, but it is a strong debut.

There's an abundance of feelings created in the listener from this album when played in full.

From the very start you can hear and see the ideas that were explored in the clips and videos stretched to their fullest, most histrionic range.

As usual with Cooly, the sound selection is on point, as an 808 cowbell is included in the arrangement.

Each of the ten (plus one bonus) tracks has earned their place here and sits on the tracklisting proudly as such, leaving none of the excess that sometimes plagued their earlier releases.

Despite its otherwise grim title, it plumbs emotional depths even further and creates a more vivid and exciting picture of what Clark is capable of this late in his career, and why all of the hype surrounding him from the beginning was more than credible.

Despite the mechanized nature, the depth of texture on show here is astounding, and HIDE definitely know how to play with space as well as sound.

It is the album's ability to create such an immersive experience with relatively few constituent parts that makes this Ryan Lee West's finest release to date.

Siblings is not an easy listen, but it is a fantastically varied one. Self is at his most compelling when he is contrasting anarchic beats and chopped up vocals with more standard pop composition. It may take me another few dozen listens to fully understand the structure of Colin Self’s new album. That can only be to his credit.

Through Girlpool's seven tracks, the band grow into their make-up as a two-piece with aplomb, complementing each other with both voice and instruments.

Repeated listening will take you down new paths, unlocking Easter eggs along the way; immersive, entrancing and absolutely non-linear.

The new sound stands up straight as the original iteration, but is backed by the depth of his previous work.

Power is richly produced, up-beat in the pop mould at times, and tugging away at something deeper at others.

It’s a hurricane of pop-punk fury with as much ferocity as anything the band recorded 25+ years ago.

Four years after dropping his breakout mixtape, the follow-up is an exultant street album.

It is a record that keeps listeners in mind, attempting to make sense of all of these painful feelings and moments in order to offer all-encompassing advice on life’s fleeting nature and on whether or not it’s still worth investing in love.

This is Brockhampton at their funkiest and most playful, but it’s also Brockhampton at their finest.