With this album, The World is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die has stepped up to the challenge of their name (as well as their previous lyrics riffing off the name), and show that they are willing to fight to make it a reality. While this battle may be a substantially uphill one, Always Foreign stands as an impeccable call to arms.

7, Beach House’s seventh album is definitely not their approach to the finish line, but a positive view on what’s yet to come. As their message of optimism and a cry of coherence is strong, this release also solidifies of their efforts and dedication, hence the Baltimore duo becoming titans in the music industry and being worldwide sweethearts.

There's no real end to Cross' aspirations here, in just over 40 minutes, he sifts through his own past while struggling to believe in a brighter future. It's just what makes this record so powerful: with some of the breeziest production one of the finest beatsmiths to grace hip hop has ever offered, Black Milk begs us all to snap out of it.

After The Party is resurgent by rediscovering everything that’s exciting about The Menzingers’ esotericism, and it’s fresh through galvanising this logical step in their thematic journey with a goodie-bag of gratifying surprises.

Overall Another Life sounds like an illegal broadcast from an underground collective looking to inspire a revolution within those of a similar mindset. It may sound austere and unwelcoming, but if you’re on Amnesia Scanner’s wavelength then you’ll naturally tune into their determinedly experimental sound, and within it find a freedom and a groove that speaks to a different way of being.

American Football (LP3)’s sound is more expansive than ever, production is slick and Kinsella’s lyrics have matured along with him.

While Power conjures up one of the most hectic, impenetrable, and eclectic listening experiences of the year, it’s above all, a true rags to riches story, one that complexingly captures a struggling artist on the verge of fulfilling immense potential.

A whole album of bare arrangements might have been too much to take, but The Fact Facer applies variety and imagination throughout, which doesn't dilute the melancholy, yet ensures that the album doesn't become an overbearing listen.

The production is tidy but one note, the instrumentation resolutely professional. The vocalist has a few touchstones and reverently shifts from one to another without exactly lighting any fires of his own. Back in 1992 they would call this alternative rock.

Nine of the album’s ten tracks work perfectly well on their own (the dreary ‘Golden Remedy’ is instantly forgettable and turgid), yet as a collection there is something missing. Many of the songs are mid-paced, lacking the verve and energy which Swervedriver are more than capable of conjuring up. It’s a tough album to get through in one sitting due to the crushing melancholy, but there is still much here to be applauded.

It's easy to stand in awe at the masterful abrasiveness and thrashing communication of anger and unease on Dog Whistle, but its pacing is an equal wonder to behold and a perfect reason to deem Show Me The Body as ambassadors of hardcore’s future.

It may be a bit of an inscrutable debut, and certainly one that invites critical thinking far beyond a casual listen, but it’s an infinitely rewarding, promising one. You may just find yourself wanting to retire on its shores more often than you expect.

Rest is her gateway out from the darkness, a way of coping with her fragilities, a processor of emotions, her loss, and also her most personal work to date, simply, where Charlotte is finally able to be Charlotte.

The album could have benefited from a further exploration into Barnette’s flirtation with punk and hard rock riffs. Nonetheless, the album still manages to improve on the song structure of the first and show a more mature side of Courtney Barnett and some of her best instrumentals yet.

Ultimately, this seems to be his goal on Ruinism; to take you into a world of house and electronic music, where each and every artefact that you thought were held dear can be just as easily crumbled and recontextualised to create a whole new atmosphere. This is where which he wants you to venture, and not look back.

Hundreds of Days is as charming as a novel unravelling a story, but it’s all over in what feels like the blink of an eye.

For someone who makes music so precise and demanding, this means that Flying Lotus’ latest album is a harder one to digest, and ultimately isn’t quite as essential as his previous.

The power of Bradley's voice comes not just from the lyrics, but the fact that you can feel the truth of every moment he sings about.

He hasn't lost a step, returning with an album that reminds of Lotus in its sprawling, rapidly transitioning 23-song tracklist. There is little else to compare, here, Thundercat--already a musical wunderkind--truly grows into his own as a presence.

Darren Hayman has undoubtedly done a good thing here, and so it seems a shame that the musical result sounds so uninspiring.

This is still a lovely, lovely record, on the surface at least; I'm not sure it'll stand up quite as well to heavy rotation as its predecessor.

Through ten booming orchestral tracks, A Curious Tale of Trials + Persons is a much-needed self-defensive assault on the industry. On labels. On genre and gender norms. On materialism. On blinding ego. On expectation. On the box so many people have attempted to put her in. So don't refer to Little Simz as a female rapper. Just call her king.

Adding in the duo’s pressing commentary about narcissism and digital romance, both of which bear heavy relevance today, Modern Mirror is goth aestheticism for the now and just maybe—the decade to come.

Despite some trite moments, there are compelling sections spread throughout the album... it's just a matter of finding them.

Crutchfield is baring her soul and just about every song shows some signs of greatness. It comes up short, but not for a lack of trying.

It's a relentless album full of short, sharp, shocks of art-punk chaos made by a group of awkward, anti-rock stars, but however strange and experimental it gets, there's still that primal joy you get with gangs of mates crashing around in sweaty basements.

Sun Coming Down already feels like a cult classic and an institution that embraces a thousand sides of the punk rock coin while retaining a steadfast originality.

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.