Much of the album treads familiar ground, not only to long-time listeners of Fort Romeau, but for any fan of the more minimalist side of House.

Dear is an album so monstrous, so monumentally loud that you can do nothing but let it consume you.

While AFI (The Blood Album) may not have the mainstream crossover potential that the band enjoyed a decade ago with Sing the Sorrow and DECEMBERUNDERGROUND, it is still a highly enjoyable album that both diehard fans and anyone looking for massive rock hooks alike should enjoy, despite faltering a bit toward the end.

The Endless Shimmering is such a relief to listen to. It’s not just a correction for the band, it’s also a redemption and a potential catalyst for an exciting new stage in their career as instrumental rock leaders.

Reduced to his own devices, our gentleman hero has crafted both the most intrinsically soulful, emotional, and heartfelt record of his career. No less, he's delivered on one of music's greatest archetypes--and with aplomb.

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.

Ghosts Of Then And Now is a rich and dynamic listen, threaded with a strong sense of purpose that's wonderfully engaging.

Everything on Eden more or less works, though it’s a definite step down from Ephorize.

This LP is clearly the product of four immensely talented musicians with a clear vision of asphalt soaked in rain and asphalt, the fears of death reflected upon by shining a flashlight through a hazy, ominously beautiful mist.

Things may have to dismantle a bit after Fever's stunning mastery of the current setlist, but fans will always have it to look back on the energetic high point of the band's time with its current lineup.

L’Orange L’Orange doesn’t exist in one place or detail specific events, which is to say it’s a fine contrast to the 21st century’s culture of volume. It simply is, and that gives it grace.

The band still show the glimmer of potential they’ve always carried, and it’s nice to know that consistency is possible with the band. ‘Doctor’s In' ends with an abrupt fadeout, and your memory of Tasmania can depart at a similarly unsatisfying rate.

Across the sixteen tracks that make up this entire project they’ve by and large avoided the awkward moments that have made listeners cringe on previous releases, they’ve finally nailed how to produce and mix Reznor’s voice so that his still somewhat heavy-handed lyricism doesn’t distract attention from the considerable craft that’s gone into the music, and they’ve found a way to organically explore new sonic avenues which mean that, while Reznor might feel like he’s trapped in a loop, doomed to continually find himself back where he’s already been, Nine Inch Nails are no longer simply repeating themselves.

By no means is Infest the Rats’ Nest the best ‘heavy’ album of the year, that honor is shared by Lingua Ignota and Baroness. But it’s not crazy to suggest that Infest the Rats’ Nest is one of the most valiant efforts of 2019, one that has only furthered the wondrous mystery of Melbourne’s beloved band.

With Action Bronson, he's continuously put out solid bodies of work, whilst never compromising his character. Mr. Wonderful may not be the strongest debut he could've released, but for a rapper that probably doesn't measure his ability by studio albums, neither should we.

Feeling comfortable is not something neo, and by extension So Pitted, is concerned with. Instead, exploration of the darkness and sickness of life are the key drivers and if neo is any indication, it is pretty compelling material.

The joyous moments continue to come thick and fast as you work your way through The Voyager.

Look Up Sharp is a defiant, singularly challenging work, and it infinitely rewards those bold enough to venture into its maw more than once.

White Reaper Does It Again is undoubtedly a summer album.

The fact that Tempest offers very little in the way of hope (the rest of the album's tale has been one of disaster so to believe any happy ending will last is naive at best) is representative of her bold story-telling, but it also means that through heavy beats and dispiriting lyrics, this is a tough album to get through in one piece.

Much of the record maintains a high tempo in line with the singles released so far, but interestingly it’s the one real downer that provides the album’s standout moment.

Nothing here really transcends nor even builds enough momentum to leave a lasting impression, but none of it prevents Midnight from being a subtly pleasing experience suitable for any time of day.

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.

There is restraint here, an alien concept for a band of Lightning Bolt’s usual undiluted abandon, but there is also the gleeful harshness which makes them such a force of the underground music scene.

Long time fans of Nadler’s work won’t be disappointed, but overall For My Crimes feels like a bit of a missed opportunity. She may sing about throwing keys, but the reality is this album won’t be taking anyone’s eye out anytime soon.

If, after an absence of 19 years, you are happy to engage with a band who are reprising much of their musical and lyrical themes whilst also dipping their toes into unexplored (and poorly realised) terrain, then no doubt there is much within White Stuff which will tick all of the appropriate boxes. But, oh man, that Kool Keith track.

How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful is an arena-ready and festival-ready record that, in true Florence and the Machine fashion, is packed to the brim with alarmingly catchy hooks and astounding vocal theatrics from its vocalist.

It's accessible, creative, and honest- everything art wishes it could be.

Whether it be pushing past the anxieties of sitting still with no particular sense of home, both in a figurative and literal sense, or even the bittersweet memories of failed relationships, Peck’s desires are timeless and unveiled for all to cherish and cry to.

While this is also an explicitly more cathartic album than past releases, Schrader’s words sometimes are either difficult to fully parse or don’t pack the oomph they could. These flaws aside, Riddles required Schrader and Rice to take a gamble, and it’s one that paid off.

The album is an engaging and enjoyable listen and deserves all the credit it will inevitably receive.

Lex is well-mannered, fun experimentalism with a winning spirit. If it doesn't break any tonal boundaries, it firmly establishes its composers' place at least in sight of the bleeding edge. And it opens the door to all manner of discoveries.

The only other hiccups are a couple of occasions when the synth lines get a little too rambunctious for their own good, bordering almost on comic. These blips aside, Certainty Waves is inventive, uplifting and fun, with something new to be discovered on every listen: an excellent entry into the Dodos’ discography.

Public Service Broadcasting's intentions are to be praised, even if the result is weak and unfocused. If the SDP leadership had formed a band, it would sound like this.

[A] lovingly crafted, adventurous soundtrack that easily stands on its own merits.

What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World is scored through with the group's idiosyncracies--there's certainly no loss of identity here--but what there is, as well, is maturity, ambition and variety, all of which conspire to form the basis of a very fine indie rock record--and there's no strings attached to that qualification.

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.

Beautiful things take time to properly come to life, and this is no exception; although this reading obviously comes in the aftermath of her accident, Bon Voyage sounds like a rebirth of sorts for Prochet.

A perplexingly bloated, often aimless album is both a head-scratcher and a true waste of potential.

La Isla Bonita is harder, edgier and noisier than 2012's Breakup Song, but just as charming, off-kilter and curious.

It might not have the same explosive nature as Bones but what it does have are some pop juggernauts.

Though it offers only one "new" song, Pond Scum freshly adds (even more) depth to the Bonnie 'Prince' Billy cannon as if it were another studio album.

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

Sprout's contributions as are every bit as lo-fi as Pollard's, but they're softer around the edges, lending Jumpsuit a nicely balanced feel.

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

Mr. Davis seems to pull in every direction at once. Gucci himself, despite the attempted show of a triumphant album, largely seems to feel somber.

It's equally beautiful and heartbreaking, a kind of gentle sadness pulsing through it. Anne doesn't dwell in sadness though, instead, it presents a touching and honest glimpse of some of the more unfair struggles we often face that leaves us searching for hope and, more importantly, answers, but it does so in a tasteful and dignified way.

Although its most inviting moments come tucked away in the calmer less darker IDM influenced tracks. Similar to laughter, this music doesn't necessarily have to mean anything in order to give us deep pleasure.

For now, we’ve been gifted a damn fine collection of songs and we would be remiss to not soak them in.

Dying may appear to have a ominous bleakness about it on the surface, but it soon becomes clear that this is an urgent, cathartic and downright exciting listen.

IV is perhaps a little too ambitious for its own good. Grandiose aims are never to be scoffed at, but considering that IV's highs are so remarkably high and its lows are so forgettable, one cannot help but wish that BBNG had smoothed out the product.

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.

Your more serious fans and completists will probably find something like this a welcome addition to their collection. Despite it not offering many revelations or surprises, The Bela Session still serves a fun little snapshot of what was soon to be one of the more creative and influential 80s post-punk bands in their infancy.

Noveller has created a pretty, stretched, tasteful, insubstantial record.

For better or worse, Gliss Riffer is the most characteristically 'Dan Deacon' record that Dan Deacon has yet released.

If you’re a Segall fan then these open you up to his influences, while also offering more of an insight into an artist who continues to both be reclusive and impressively prolific.

Of course, at nearly two hours long, it’s probably not something you’ll listen to all in one go (especially if you’re not a Bob’s Burgers fan), but it’s quite easy to dip in and out of it at your leisure. If you like songs about butts and farts too, then you’re well catered for here.

If you want a nocturnal classic packed to the brim with contemporary disco genius, this is the record you need to buy.

International is extremely effective as a pop album, with stand-outs ('Armida' is very, very good) and a consistency of tone matched by pretty flawless execution.

This is 100% bittersweet, but it's honest, it's genuine and we see Li's true colours, hopefully shining back on us.

Food feels like a full-fledged look at the life, pleasures and pains of Kelis, something none of her old records ever really delivered.

A pleasant, but ultimately unspectacular adventure.

As with everything Tennis have done to date, it still sounds very light; the percussion, as usual, is kept unobtrusive, and Moore's vocals never threaten to bubble over into a snarl; you can't help but wonder what they might sound like with the shackles off, but perhaps that's to miss the point.

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.

Unravelling is an album that needs time and patience lent towards it. It's a slow-burner of a record, both in the tempo it sets and the amount of time it takes for it to reveal itself.

At its best, Antisocialites is a raw effort from a band who swears they've been around longer than they have, composing a handful of very good songs, with a majority of flukey, bored-out-of-my-fucking-mind songs that seem to drag one after the other. Alvvays' main flaw remains their lack of authenticity, a tragedy for a band with this much potential.

Passionate vocals and gritty guitar-driven melodies brings the album to life, reminding us of the reason the band have been successfully taking the industry by storm.

Dream Wife is an album inextricably linked with the band’s own youthful energy, as it is projected from every single guitar lick, vocal tick and musical explosion across its 35 minutes. This can prove a little wearing or agitating for those not in the right state of mind, as their brand of pop-rock is some of the most invasive and bolshy likely to be heard on a debut album. However, if you’re looking for an aural caffeine kick, a rock and roll sugar rush or an emphatic “I don’t give a fuck!” then look no further.

There's always a sense of worry that once a band loses its chaotic edge, its youthful exuberance, it takes a step back, but this isn't quite the case with Foals on What Went Down.

You never feel as if Wooden Aquarium lets up, and whether that's something that the band have picked up from having to cram as many songs as possible into their quick-fire live sets or just a nod to their long-held influences, it works very well indeed.

Where Brighter Wounds works best is when the band shows an element of restraint.

Each record provides exactly what you want (and a little bit more) and this should be applauded. Whether you're a seasoned fan or only just discovering the band for the first time Rave Tapes deserves a spot in your collection.

Ty Dolla $ign's most diverse and eminent offering to date.

Even if she doesn't match the heights of Florence, she can rest easy knowing she's made much better records.

This music has an antique heart and, instead of having lots of modern crap plastered on top of it, it has been lovingly restored.

Those seeking out a Julia Holter live album aren’t looking for pop thrills, but rather mature, sophisticated compositions performed by accomplished, unbound musicians. It is here in spades.

Siesta may be a celebration, but it keeps it low key. You’ll find yourself refreshed, minus the clean up. It’s a salve for a tiring year.

Similar to the likes of Animal Collective, it weeds out the ordinary pop listener to reward the fan devoted to deciphering its layers.

You Only Lie 2wice is a reflection of past mistakes, a declaration of dreams for his family’s future and a time stamp for the strenuous reality of an artist who nearly lost it all on his way to gaining it all.

In an engaging and accessible way, Kehlani uses her sharp pen game to detail her experiences navigating relationships and her career as best she can, despite her past impacting many facets of her future.

Unfortunately, aside from a couple of other stronger tracks (‘Gonna Get Better’ and ‘Towers and Masons’ – one of Brendan Canning’s contributions), the rest of the album isn’t something I have a desire to return to.

At times it seems to be too much under the influence of My Bloody Valentine--even the cover art evokes them--and their contemporaries, yet it does what it does very well and it would be harsh to overlook the fact that this is a strong debut in its own right.

Moh Lhean sounds just as complete as any other WHY? record. This album is the mark of a man who knows where he is in life.

This feels like a band overflowing with ideas in a productive way.

By listening to it, you are induced to disconnect from your surroundings, and to appreciate and find peace within the chaos of the everyday life and modern struggles. It’s not an isolation capsule, but you’ll definitely feel as though you’re floating to safety.

Overall, this is an album packed with huge riffs and honest intent from a band who seemingly have a new lease of life.

His music is meant to be both nakedly honest and cathartic at once, and this is where Skip a Sinking Stone succeeds the most.

Even if parts of Ad Infinitum might not come off, it's worth remembering that Lerner had to teach himself how to play half the instruments featured from the ground up. Still in his 20s, it feels like the project is another string to his bow as a musician, rather than a defining turn of direction.

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.

It is worth a listen but won't hang around in the memory for long, which is not what we've come to expect from a legend like this.

If you've already heard 2002's tenth-anniversary reissue of the group's debut album, Slanted and Enchanted, then you've already heard everything compiled here.

Native Invader is a step back from Unrepentant Geraldines, but still boasts enough quality to suggest that she has another stellar album in her.

The beautifully crafted lyrics of Things Are Really Great Here, Sort of are slowly offset by the melancholy implied in the title, at times through the stirring yet mournful violin-caressing and whistling Bird.

All in all, Highest Point In Cliff Town is a fun ride as a first album. But sometimes you have to sacrifice a little fun to really dig deep.

The growth Lucy Rose has experienced since her debut album is self-evident, she tackles universal feelings with unmistakable poetry, and while at times the album can feel drowned out, the overall feeling is one of understanding.

Lost Girls is fundamentally disappointing. It is an album devoid of originality from an artist who should be reaching for the stars instead of looking back into the murky past for inspiration. No doubt it will sell by the bucketload, but then people like Coldplay and voted in the Nazis so what do they know.

This album is more of a reset than a reinvention, ditching the guitar was meant to make or break them, but it's kind of done neither.

The marathon middle section paves the way for the record's standout final songs. 'Padova', in particular, slows Plaza's propulsion peacefully and formlessly.