Produced by Vu herself and boasting a lush and warm sound, it sets itself apart by striving to be something more ambitious and it shows in every little detail be it the sudden burst of bright brass soaring through breezy guitars on the gorgeous sway of '426' or the shimmering chords of 'Crying on the Subway'.

Refreshing indeed is the lack of a vindictive or grieved air, Shaddad instead largely keeping a sadly level head, pitying the person she had to grow beyond without being insulting.

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

I Have to Feed Larry’s Hawk is something of a messy enigma. Gone are the lo-fi production values and the urgency of early White Fence material, replaced instead by songs that take their time to grow but often miss the target. There are some aural delights here, but also too many instantly forgettable tracks.

It is a cliché but it really shows the power of music, Kristian Matsson found himself in an awful situation, processed it through writing, and over the course of one album left you feeling excited for the future.

Like the rest of her discography, Hour of the Dawn a short and sweet collection of music for and from the heart, only this time around it's played right from the guts.

The Physical World confirms everything we'd hoped for: DFA still know how to produce unstoppable energy, they still know how to push a bass guitar to its full capacity and they still know how to inject tonnes of fun into not just their product, but the wider spectrum of music itself--and there's not much more you can ask for, especially after so long.

This album is about the layers that play out in a minimalist way. Each brush stroke, each note, is purposeful. This album doesn't scream "listen to me", it gently draws you in.

The record's ability to be simultaneously dense and accessible, joyful and thoughtful, inspiring and cautionary, allows it to make a case for being an essential record for anyone in their twenties.

Smith's observations are insightful, full of emotional depth, but never overly complex. It's that combination that has always made them so appealing, and it also makes this their strongest release since Antenna to the Afterworld.

Its an album free of ego: the mirror isn't directed towards its creator, but clearly rather towards his hope that we will catch some glimpse of ourselves in its murky, softly swirling depths.

You will hear better records than The Scene Between this year; none will put a bigger smile on your face.

Those artists who standout from the rest of the pack do exactly this with the additional knack of killer songwriting, and Honeyblood fortunately have that going for them in an abundance.

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.

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.

There's some great individual tracks here, but they need their next full-length to be less Jekyll and Hyde and more Laura Palmer and Maddy Ferguson.

Gallipoli--a complete departure from band’s musically stale, emotionally sleepy No No No--reminds long-time listeners of the initial hype that surrounded Condon and Beirut long ago.

Uniquely with Mess, they've instead dealt with the most colossal environment, making a grander statement about the aphotic bleakness of society in the process

Young Billie Marten is proving that, even at the age of 17, she is charting territories and making music that will only aid her growth.

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.

FROOT is her strongest album to date.

Take Chet's out of context and they might feel as if there were no common theme, but place them side-by-side and you'll find the tracks forming a complete and comprehensive whole--a release that is dynamic, mature, and impressive in all areas.

It's a thrilling ride.

SASAMI feels like a warm friend you haven’t seen in years, ready to reflect on life: how you’d hoped it’d be, and how it is. It doesn’t feel so bad when you’re together.

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.

While the group’s mutual wit and sense of lyrical structure could elevate the flattest of records, the kineticism and gleeful weirdness of their individual work is bafflingly absent. Czarface Meets Metal Face is polished but never makes good on the thrills promised by their teasing enterprise ‘Ka-Bang’ off Czarface’s 2015 record Every Hero Needs A Villain.

Magnificent, opulent, bizarre, and wholesome, Go To School is unlikely to be remembered as a hit-filled album (opposed to Do Hollywood) but as an important stepping stone in the rock'n'roll rite of passage instead, the one that unmistakably distinguishes good musicians from one-in-a-million geniuses.

The Switch isn’t anonymous or soulless, but it does have an unhuman aesthetic.

This diversity in delivery is the savior of the first half of the record which pales slightly to the second.

Rather than betting the farm on a couple showstoppers while keeping everything else relatively muted and inconspicuous, Frost pushes himself further and further and creates an incredible experience.

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.

Everything Else Matters is an inventive, often genuinely exciting blend of noise and pop sensibilities not really heard since the early days of Lush.

Menace Beach’s Black Rainbow Sound is one of the most accessible and thrilling noise rock albums out there at the moment, and it's not even close.

Crab Day is an idiosyncratic and imaginative record, with fresh highlights appearing on every listen.

Far from diving deeper into the bleak, sonic maelstrom that has characterised most of their work, Pe'ahi is their most open, emotional record to date.

While it is a solid, if unspectacular debut with promise for the future, it's difficult to fight the feeling that Before We Forgot How To Dream is an album which hides behind big production because it is afraid to be intimate.

The Way And Color is an admirable, solid effort, surely paving the way for better material on the not so distant, sunset dripping, horizon.

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.

This is more a record for hardcore fans than casual ones, though there are some distinct highlights.

Their efforts were actualised in a catchy album that makes you want to dig deeper and discover what they are trying to say lyrically and musically.

The casual listener is sure to find comfort in the background nature of the music at play here, and a voice this talented couldn't help but deliver an above average pop record even on autopilot. That being said, there is a wish that he'd understand the very best pop statements don't shy away from a clear personality.

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.

Destroyer feels like a band waking up from the slumber rut that marred their more recent output. There is a distinct sense of urgency here, of the adrenaline felt with a new experience that always seemed previously out of reach. McBean has (fuel) injected an exigency to this project once again, and the results are great.

They haven't reinvented Christmas music and made it respectable, but it's infinitely more palatable than anything else you're going to hear for the next month.

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

The comforting warmth of cassette fuzz binds itself to the entire work, making the gamble an intimate experience akin to anything that Nils Frahm has laid his hands on. This has allowed nonkeen to find the perfect balance between experimental and familiar.

Through their highly freeform but affectionate collaboration, the trio consistently accentuates the potency of the passion in the songs.

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.

With Elephants on Acid they often sacrifice, clearly by choice, catchiness for a more avant-garde complexity. There is a fantastic set of songs awaiting murkily on Elephants on Acid, and for Cypress Hill's intended audience here--the true fans--it's sure to be a joy unearthing them.

This is a slick, polished rock album with a clear lineage from bands such as L7, Sleater-Kinney and Celebrity Skin-era Hole to more contemporary acts such as Du Blonde, Dream Wife and Pip Blom.

More Rain is a graceful, though somewhat unrewarding member of that career.

There are a select few tracks on Lucid Dreaming that you'll be delighted to include on a party playlist, but this isn't an album that you'll be playing on loop.

White and Mosshart's collaboration feels like a tale of the proverbial nearly men--close, but no cigar.

Heads Up feels like an album bound to be forgotten.

On Bermuda Waterfall, Savage has taken a real step forward, proving beyond reasonable doubt that he's a fine songwriter; he just needs a little more instrumental refinement, and perhaps a slightly more nuanced understanding of his strongest vocal suit, before he's truly mixing it with the big boys of throwback pop.

Thankfully, rather than this coming across as some comprehensive grave robbery, Greys have added enough of their own ingredients to concoct quite the powerful brew.

King’s Mouth has moments of pure joy and feels timeless in many ways, and for that Coyne and co. should be applauded.

Not outstaying its welcome (a common problem for samplers that peddle transcendent music which can occasionally feel like it is treading water), there is a good diversity of experiments, albeit largely backed by familiar themes.

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.

Whether they're delivering something rocking, glistening or simply breathtaking, almost every song on this 12 track effort is a gem (only the strange sound collage that is 'Go In' falls flat).

Pursuit of Momentary Happiness is neither a mere regurgitation of Alas Salvation, nor does it send the band in a completely new direction altogether--instead, it showcases a steady yet unhurried matureness emanating from Oli Burslem's bittersweet Iggy-meets-Lou vocals (he is indeed a talented crooner, and 'Words Fail Me' is one of the most romantic tunes I've heard recently) and the overall tight sonic deliver that ultimately allows for a détente of the listener, who in their turn realises they needn't be afraid to find any uncomfortable gaps.

He has a release that bifurcates between sparkling, let-it-rip takes, over to a self-antagonistic, ball of constructed chaos.

Colours is not a bad record, far from it. It does, however, feel like an experiment that has gone slightly out of control; exhilarating and dazzling at times, worrying at others.

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.

Love Yourself: Tear shows off each individual member’s qualities fairly and acts as a well-structured introduction to a wider global audience that is all too eager to pick out negatives.

It's quite an enjoyable listen. It's all possibly about as boxed and pared down as Richard D James has sounded.

The somewhat dated soundscape presents the album one relative weakness, but truthfully, sticking to her guns serves Allen and No Shame just fine, with the clear spotlight allowed for her vocals.

Both the fact that this effectively represents a collaborative effort and also that there's three different singers across the album's twelve tracks are probably reasons behind the fact that it feels like a pretty diffuse collection of songs; the only real unifying characteristic to Hold It In's songs are their punishing level of loudness.

Too eerie to be a comedown album, too scary to be a soundtrack, Kiri Variations is rich in weaving a tapestry of Wiccan ideals, of woodlands and innocence and dreams of suffocating entrapment, which combine to produce an album of unsettling pleasure.

Certainly some tracks could use grounding and a smidgeon of common substance to prevent a stupefying hypnosis--but in many ways that's the appeal.

Flashy records are always exciting, but the merits of a solidly constructed and alluringly dreamy album like Life of Pause should never be underestimated.

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.

He and his brother have made an album that’s too impersonal to provide an actual emotional connection but also lacking the vision necessary to provide something out of this world.

Beats skitter, churn, and bubble with a menacingly magical quality but never do they outshine BANKS' vocals.

Jagbags runs into some of the same problems that previous Jicks records have faced; his nonsensical lyrical style, which veers between the sublime and the ridiculous at breakneck pace, is certainly an acquired taste, and his penchant for stylistic variation, as always, throws up the odd miss to go with the hits.

The majority stays well within its comfort zone, cuddling up to the listener, rather than poking them in the eye.

Although it is by no means a bad record, it just represents the first time that he has lost the emotional power that has previously made him so much more than just a man with a guitar.

Hawthorne has once again proved himself as a superb purveyor of funky jams that will please the ear and the spirit.

Overall, this is an album with fleeting moments of joy, but these are not sustained.

Two is Owls taking on their unfinished business; the sound of a band whose dynamic can stand the test of time and still sound as fresh as ever.

There was a sense of duty in pressing play on Luminous rather than an organic excitement or desire.

Cohesively, Prhyme 2 serves as a pivotal point in the connection between old school and emerging rappers.

It's oxymoronic. It's uncalled for and essential. It's ridiculous and severe. It's useless and powerful. It's everything Run The Jewels stands for.

None of the songs here are particularly lengthy, but the way ideas evaporate almost instantaneously makes it a slog of an album. It doesn’t help that one-third of the tracklisting is made up of befuddling interludes, with only one (a reprise of another, no less) offering any intrigue thanks to some well-rendered telephone rings.

At its best White Hinterland can certainly hold its ground alongside these artists, but it's a much tougher and more crowded scene than where she came from.

Enjoyment of Mercy as a whole hinges on whether you consider the boyish, faltering vocal to be strong or cheesy.

Daughter--and Tonra in particular--have elegantly lowered their defences with Not to Disappear. Emotional literacy and gripping theatricality lie behind the wall.

Piano Ombre proves that by being romantic, intimate and even forward-looking in the way the album positively addresses difficult times.

WIFE marries the intensity and raw energy of Kelly's background in metal with the subtler inflections of electronica and aquatic pop fluidity; in doing so, he forges an intense album, well worth getting sucked into.

It's certainly far more accessible, and much more ingrained in traditional dance and electronic styles, but it still has that unfamiliarity that remains The Knife's trademark.

Map of the Soul: Persona is a bold, if tempered, call to Western media.

Where some of the cuts, like 'Gitter', 'Pro Model', or 'Many Descriptions' evoke vibrant feelings, others ignite a giant pile of 'meh' inside your brain.

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.

This is a solid, fun-loving post-punk record that definitely leans heavy on the punk.

No dead sharks here, then; just the sound of a once-cult band confounding their perceived limitations and joining the top tier of Britain's pop purveyors in the process.

There’s a balance to be struck between playing it safe and playing it smart, and Lindstrøm leans more towards the latter. If he occasionally veers the wrong way, he recovers handsomely.

As a cohesive album, Beauty Behind The Madness showcases artistic growth and sonic progression through danceable pop deliveries like 'In The Night' and grand acoustics like 'Shameless'.

While Kazuashita might not be a completely perfect album, it is as close as you can get to perfect when it comes to fulfilling the potential of the album as an artistic concept. Every piece fits together, it has a message without pontificating, and it’s absolutely crucial to experience it all at once.