Although on the surface this sophomore record is a less vulnerable effort than his acclaimed debut, if the listener scratches even a little below the up-tempo melodies they will discover the same shambolic protagonist, struggling with the strife of everyday life which they fell in love.

A strong component of the record is the varying light and shade between tracks, with head-bangers like 'Heavy Bells' sitting alongside reflection and soul.

If Springsteen’s characters aren’t all that multifaceted, they’re at least part of songs that are. ... When Springsteen cuts into his characters’ pain is when Western Stars stands out as one of his best late-period works.

Although The Names clocks in with just 9 tracks, the depth of theme, variety and overall production values give enough weight to the notion that Baio has bridged the gap from recreational hobby to serious solo artist.

With Father of the Bride, Vampire Weekend expand and re-contextualise their own creative universe, offer more questions than answers, take new risks, and open up new possibilities for their artistic future. In the process of doing so, they add at least a handful of brilliant tracks to their discography.

There is no ignoring the allusions to the natural world. And with big orchestration and even bigger ambition, the band were able to show just how we are only a small part of something much bigger.

Exiled is urgent and breathless from a band who need to be heard.

It’s a culmination of just about every texture they’ve explored before, fostered through unmistakable maturity.

There may be simple logic behind the phrase quality over quantity yet here there is clear cohesion and thought.

With five tracks over the course of 32 minutes, it never outstays its welcome, though if you listen to it at the wrong end of the day, the overall effect may become soporific.

This record should be coupled with its predecessor but it without doubt exceeds its ambitions.

Content Nausea doesn’t feel like a landmark release for the band, more of a palette of ideas and experience mixed together with some undeniably great songs.

Overall Enter the Slasher House is perhaps too subtle to sit amongst the likes of the Cramps, Goblin and Zombie Zombie playing John Carpenter, on your future Halloween playlist.

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.

Upside Down Mountain suggests that he's starting to move into a new period of his career where he can use his wisdom to write songs that are passionate in a new, more mature way, without having to try to dredge up an old fire that doesn't quite burn as violently anymore.

Light Conductor have made an accomplished album with a retro-futurist sensibility and it is clear that they have moved this project forward under their own terms - long may they continue to do so.

The Peace and Truce of Future of the Left is a dark and dynamic listen that's relentless in both its content and its approach, which makes it really quite gripping.

There are tracks on here that will undoubtedly go down in the pantheon of great Ty Segall songs and be taken out on stage to thrill and delight. The rest can be quickly and easily enjoyed, then entirely forgotten about--which doesn’t really matter, since we’re probably only a year or so away from yet another Ty Segall album.

They continue to write overwhelmingly catchy and energetic songs full of anthemic shout-along choruses that feel hopped up on one too many energy drinks, and though Kamikaze doesn't differ all that much from Blowout on the surface, the music here comes off a little more raw and crunchy, and also a lot more melodic.

As far as solo jaunts go, this is one she should be immensely proud of. It's Macomberesque as opposed to Borrellian.

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.

Jay Som is truly at home on Anak Ko, and it shows. It may not pack a wallop, but it's always welcoming, and, sometimes, that's just what we need.

The first half may be more instantly accessible but the final three tracks of The Invisible's third album sees them slip into their favoured lane and take the mantle as the most hypnotic and aurally enveloping band in Britain today.

With each album Snoh Aalegra shows progression. From Don’t Explain, to FEELS to this latest release, Snoh has taken parts from previous releases to create this record whilst keeping her authenticity.

It's cerebral, visceral storytelling. How you feel about that is your prerogative.

Despite Jack White's claims that each song is separate due to the archive nature of his source material Lazaretto is a cohesive entity made distinct by the range of styles and structural arrangements on individual tracks.

Flashes of sudden genius seem to make up for the spotty manner in which P2 is delivered in, an album that, although hype-worthy and buzzy, fails to make a truly lasting impression. However, if East can bring his same passion along for when he's finally ready to offer his debut proper, we hopefully have something to look forward to.

Painting Of a Panic Attack, while not their best release musically, may well be their most emotionally mature.

Floating Points lives up to expectations with this mix. Both intimate and dreamy, Sam takes us on a journey that's very much welcomed.

The second half of Worship The Sun is weaker than the first, it has to be said. And that could just be because the first eight songs (minus 'Recurring') are so damn good.

Overall, it’s a massive improvement on the disappointing Issa Album, with 21 Savage showing maturity whilst keeping his dark humour and persona.

Complex, surreal and divine. Noonday Dream is Ben Howard's best work to date.

We are guests in her world, after all, and Hell-On is precisely the breezy rock record we may need right now. If you need proof, any of the 12 tracks here will suffice.

Write In sees them continuing to demonstrate just how deceptively subtle their shifts in sound and approach can be, and the depth of their songcraft reveals itself over repeated listens in ways it never did before.

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.

The contemplative, climactic nature of Suicide Songs, filled with layers of swirling strings, glorious brass sections and celestial vocals, resonates with an affirming sense of having confronted death face to face. The timelessness of this album reflects the nature of its subject matter.

Compared to their debut album, Dunes marks a step up in the band's sound.

He hasn’t crafted the second coming of Deltron 3030 but a contemplative and diverse delight. We can only hope Offset’s impending solo debut is just as good.

Acoustic guitar-driven folk music blends fervently with spoken word-esque rap verses and passionate R&B-mingled choruses through fourteen emotional purpose-driven tracks brimming with woke material and a call to change for the millennial '90s baby generation like the passionate artist out of Stone Mountain, Georgia.

Mystery Hour is a wistful, weird collection that shows once again that break up songs are the best.

Orc is another immensely satisfying offering from one of underground rock’s modern heroes.

Salutations is good, but it is apparent it could have been better. Rather than swing for the fences, Conor and crew settled for a base hit that didn’t move any runners on base.

Overall, Paradise is a safe bridge from HOPELESSNESS, where the singer is able to express herself in another wide collection of musical manifestos.

The second Drugdealer album isn’t quite the knockout it could have been, but it easily delivers on the promise of Collins’ debut. If his idea is to let this latest incarnation stick around for a while, we’re in for a real treat.

Room Inside the World is a trove of art-rock and post-punk. Always leaving the listener quite unsure of its potential, it cements Ought’s reputation as an exciting band perfectly capable of evolution and reinvention.

Eminem was really rapping across an entire LP again (something I’d never say elsewhere: Rihanna is not missed), stans were going to like it too much, while his inflammatory remark is sure to prevent most any of the unconverted from being able to engage with the music itself.

It's pleasing to discover that, even when taking his time, Ty Segall is still able to deliver the magic of spontaneity and urgency that was scorched across his previous albums.

Platform is a record that reveals itself slowly. An intelligent, intoxicating electronica record that draws the listener in and revealing new truths as it goes.

Perfect Shapes is a confident step forward. It all bodes well for whatever shapes come next.

Messes is an album that’s likely to fly under the radar, as it is being released into a field that’s already crowded. But, anyone that gives it a chance is likely to get Stef Chura’s idiosyncratic vocals hooked to their brain, and will be enticed to give it more time. It will only reward further listens, as the subtleties in this simplistic joy are many.

Wells has described Promise as the kind of album that requires patience and time from the listener. But considering how captivating and compelling the music can be, the time is well spent in the end.

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

To be fair to him, Morgan Delt is very, very proficient, nailing the '67 sound while injecting a dose of discipline that many imitators miss.

There are glorious moments of reflection to be found throughout The Last Panthers too. Circuitous, sweeping pad interludes that, more often than not, come in the form of unusual and unsettling chord progressions to jolt the beauty that's frequently on offer.

It's a gorgeously facetious record that succinctly sums up a breadth of adolescent issues; this is the kind of record you'd play when you 'rents were out, or when you've just been dumped, or when your younger sibling got you into trouble and you're sulking.

It is sad that there isn't more music being made with this level of political engagement at its heart, but it is encouraging that Spectre exists.

On his frequently divine debut album, Hayden Thorpe may well be a new man, untethered from his band, adrift in space and time, yet safe in the hermetic seal of an intricately designed vessel, but the desire for human connection will seemingly always bring him out of his shell and back down to solid ground.

Tomb benefits from having a slightly cleaner sound and the results are remarkable. Tapping into the potential his past albums only hinted at, It's polished just enough that the songs boast a greater clarity but without losing any of the homespun intimacy of his previous recordings.

It's unabashed, unrepentant, contemplative when it needs to be, volcanically in-your-face the rest of the time.

When listening to this album you can’t help but feel the infectiousness of the group sitting around together just jamming out these songs.

While at times the overall production and heavy effects can take away from the impact, Good at Falling is ultimately a work of emotions. The album perfectly represents what people go through while trying to hold on to relationships, knowing they should let go.

If your life needs to be stripped of its bombast for a little while, Real Estate remain a steadfast companion for a little R&R. Just don’t beat yourself up if you can’t sit through the whole thing.

Immersion do well to paint imagery in the listeners mind with, “The Humming Sea” rising up with an ocean of analogue synth pad like sounds representative of this image as though it is a reality. It is this ability to create an easily interpreted image of the sounds that make this album so easily accessible to a listener.

The album is definitely progress, but maybe not as much progress as those of us eagerly awaiting new music were hoping for.

It is polished in the sense everything has a place. Sleek track productions can’t hide the energy rattling in the bones of the band. They were able to bottle and utilize the catchiness found in electro-pop and showcase the best of those elements when applied to a rock band eager to branch out.

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

Dragons has taken some getting used to. With each listen, new details emerge.

The instrumental experimentation is spot-on, not imposing itself too much on the melodies nor serving as a vehicle for virtuosity; they sound solid and everlasting, yet serene enough to know how to take their music to the next level.

Although the performances on Live in Paris are spot on, they don’t fulfil the promise of the concert. It can’t convey the feeling of the floor moving during the chorus of ‘Bury Our Friends’. It lacks the visual component of Tucker and Brownstein kicking and howling while playing.

Deep In The Iris is full-bodied and assertive, while their lyrics address both the personal and the cultural.

It's another tour de force for Wales' musical explorer-in-chief, packed with the fine tunecraft, psychedelic references and experimental instrumentation we've come to expect from him.

Whatever the expectation might have been ahead of the album, Wet Will Always Dry is, all in all, an extremely Blawan album; wall to wall club bangers with no fuss and no fanfare.

It certainly doesn’t break any new ground, but it’s a committed, charming throwback to the early years post-millennium, when rock did one of its perennial about-faces, away from prog-y electronica and back to the days when wearing leather and ripped white or red t-shirts was actively encouraged.

Rather than fall in love with this record from the get-go it needs a little airing and breathing time to get to grips with the finer notes, but it's sure to keep you coming back.

It's a cliché to say that an album needs a few listens, but it's true of Plastics, as each new play reveals more depths.

Familiars is bleak and dreary, potentially at the cost of dragging in certain spots. However, those willing to spend enough time wrapped in its moody embrace will be rewarded with a quite beautiful experience.

It may struggle for attention-grabbing fireworks, but Build a Boat to the Sun is completely endearing.

Helen have turned out an otherwise pleasing debut, and it's nice to hear Harris pushing her otherwise ghostly music into lusher and sunnier places, but it doesn't prevent The Original Faces from feeling a little underdeveloped and like a missed opportunity by the band to take the kind of music they are making in more interesting directions.

On Last Building Burning, Cloud Nothings provide their take on a stripped back album. Belts were loosed, fingers bled, and there was probably some howling at the moon. But in a world so interconnected, you can’t forget the primal that’s in you still trying to make sense of it all- knowing a starry sky is the back drop to honeymooners and prisoners.

Happily, the quirky musical moments that characterised the London band's 2014 debut Breakfast are sprinkled over Brilliant Sanity, resulting in 11 pleasingly playful songs.

The circular fate of a world that is doomed to repeat itself is told on the thrashy ‘Ouroboros’ which is riddled with scuzzy feedback, but Ted Stevens’ melody manages to crack through the darkness. It’s these under-written melodies that somewhat cut the bleakness which is on offer here. That’s not to say there aren’t any moments of hope. There are.

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.

The saturated levels of Scandinavian pop and the mounting pressure on such artists' first albums all could've worked against Karen Ørsted here, but No Mythologies To Follow remains dynamic and expressive enough to work past these blocks and hint at very, very bright things.

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.

Unfurl is much like RY X’s previous record Dawn, though tinged with moments of evolution. Lined with a rawness that could be sometimes overlooked; it seems to find solace in giving an emotional response to me from its creation.

Whilst it makes for an interesting record, it does mean that it always ran the risk of dividing opinion. The album is however, not without its highlights and for fans of shoe gaze, post-punk, or noise rock in general, it's well worth seeking this record out and letting it consume you.

Aside from two or three fillers, this record should be applauded for doing what Consentino does best: writing melodies that stick in your head for days.

WATTBA still measures slightly disappointing in terms of what we've seen and heard from each artist individually, even this year. What A Time To Be Alive, even as a concept centers itself around the idea of 'now,' instead of striving for the notion of 'classic.' So I'll enjoy it for the time being.

Though there are hints of doubt and yearnful ambiguity associated with detachment and abandonment, littered throughout, Us is a project album radiating with friendship and the comfort of simply being next to someone.

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.

It ultimately comes up short on tapping into the kind of emotional depth needed to resonate beyond feeling like those brief moments when we find ourselves experiencing a sudden case of deja vu before snapping back to reality.

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

Unwrapping the record reveals a collection of tightly packed delights; exceptional songs that grandstand the artist's lyrical prowess, outstanding musicianship and incredibly flexible voice, readily guided by Herbert (Bjork, Michachu, Roisin Murphy) in the producer's chair.

He never carves out a distinctive sound for himself, opting instead to show off the breadth of his musical abilities--it's impressive, yes, but noncommittal.

Gone By The Dawn is, at many turns, a lovely record. But it also seems to be a transitional record, as the group tries to find a more distinctive place for itself beyond '50s and '60s nostalgia.

Shedding Skin is a bold move for an artist so associated with a different sonic cadence, and kudos to Ejimiwe for trying to artistically reposition himself. Ultimately though, I would have liked to have heard more of an evolution rather than a complete metamorphosis from him.

The infusion of genre's and styles certainly makes the record feel like a score that would be used in an Olympic opening or indeed closing ceremony.

It’s a solid debut that establishes Dizzy as a band to watch out for because, like their beats, they’re sure to linger.