This album is yet further proof that John Maus has no boundaries and relishes unearthing new patterns, sequences and progressions. He’s in his element when creating music quite unlike anything else.

As a whole it's a fine addition to the Foo Fighters catalogue – but that’s not the point of this album. .... This is a reminder that the Foo fighters are a band bigger than any individual member - including Grohl. They're a rock band that, even when the going gets tough, know that there's a job to do and there's no better way to deal with life than throwing together some ringing chords and belting the dark clouds away.

Touching on Northern European chamber, opera, and folk traditions as they steer through a minefield of club-ready moments, Catharina Stoltenberg and Henriette Motzfeldt have created a sonic topography that thrives on paradox - it’s a disorienting pleasure to navigate.

Prima Queen cement their emerging status with The Prize in a confident and unabashed manner.

Everything Maltese conveys feels like a direct connection to the mind that bore it. It feels filterless, and with the music playing its part perfectly, we're all privy to the cool, calm and collected, swooning and crooning, world that Matt Maltese sees. And we're all the better for it.

This is a varied, but still stylistically consistent and wonderfully accessible album. It’s a frequently wonderful and often fantastic album that demonstrates and exemplifies the joys of nostalgia.

Ultimately, First Taste exemplifies Ty Segall’s shape-shifting qualities. Here is a man who delights in trying on many a mask, restless and impulsive.

Smilewound’s gleeful, weird-pop eclecticism builds up the goodwill to cover any lull.

The phrase ‘modern psychedelia’ often feels like an oxymoron, but on Human Ceremony Sunflower Bean make perfect sense of it, rewardingly broadening their musical horizons in the process and as with the Nuggets compilations it’s as diverse as you like yet retains a marvellous cohesion at the same time.

This album was a joy to listen to, without a doubt.

On Autodrama the Kaplans stick with one sound. But it’s a confident one, strutting RnB that oozes beach house cool.

If I’m dinging anything, it’s the temptation to coat every chorus in frosting, but I guess that’s also what makes Man’s Best Friend so much fun to listen to. Even when Carpenter over-ices the cake, the bite underneath is her own – funny, flirty, occasionally feral, and unmistakably Sabrina.

Whilst the narrative of Rise Ye Sunken Ships is gone, there is still a mood arc that runs through Augustines.

While Crooked Wing finds These New Puritans at their most refined and fractured, the album won’t be for everyone. Its refusal to deliver easy pleasures might leave some cold. And for all its inventiveness, there are moments where the almost academic precision threatens to override the emotional core. Yet, it’s exactly what it feels like, a requiem for the mechanical age, a love song to decay, and a stark reminder of the beauty that can be found in the shadow of ruins.

Revel in the moods and noises, go with the ebb and flow of mood, pace and dynamic, conjure up your own tales to tell around its sounds: this is music with elastic boundaries, that will accommodate the interpretations that you choose to place on it, and bear them with a surprising lightness of touch.

In the end, what we have is a magnificent record, that looks likely to be sunk by the events surrounding it. Whether that happens remains to be seen, but what remains is a harsh disconnect, between the absolute joy of the record, and the crushing disappointment that surrounds it.

Its 11 tracks taking listeners on an rollercoaster of emotional peaks and troughs, and by the time the closing moments of final track "The Ocean Grew Hands To Hold Me" ring out, you can’t help but feel bruised, beaten and above all cleansed.

It’s an album that coheres more effectively than did the first, and it’s one that shows an adventurousness while staying within sight of the elemental spirit of its inspiration.

It’s nuanced, subtle and magnetically beautiful.

In ten aptly small songs Adrianne evokes our ability to vanish at the feet of nature, creating a black hole all of her own that’s both comforting and suffocating.

Like a well-oiled machine, the band’s constituent parts interlock with each other in punctual dexterity; supple musicianship that stands out more than ever on this robust sophomore affair.

It’s those little moments that best prove that Slow Pulp themselves have found that same type of sweetness, and with it they’ve delivered their best project thus far.

An album full of calming energy, with vibes to soothe the soul and the mind, and put a smile on your face.

The clarity heard on this album can be interpreted as a sharpened edge in Hval. She collapses the space of the album into a single sensory experience; she conveys something unsearchable but found.

Equal amounts tender and wild, Mitski places power in vulnerability. Validating every topsy turvy emotion, Puberty 2 is a soundtrack of self-awareness and self-acceptance at its most real.

Vulnerability is presented here as strength, where before it’s been masked in metaphor. It’s not that Welch isn’t scared any more; it’s that she’s made her peace with that, and in turn one of her strongest records to date.

Magus maneuvres its songs in such a fashion and that patience and allowance for their gradual build shows their skillset as a group with a revering quality, thus placing Magus in the running for one of this year’s most auspicious metal releases

Thanks to Rubin’s acoustic method, which encouraged Laus to play solely on an instrument before working on the production, most pieces have attained what may possibly be called “skeletal beauty”.

Musically the album moves in a more organic way from one song into another than if it were just a collection of ten songs.

Jansch's future Pentangle bandmate John Renbourn guests on second guitar and the guitarists' mainly instrumental, jazz- and blues-influenced duo album Bert & John (also from 1966) closes this hugely impressive set on another high note.

This definitely isn't for everyone, and the production and mixing is particularly un-inviting this time around. ... But the sheer tunefulness in the songs beneath it all is actually incredibly heartwarming, and something that deserves as much attention from the adventurous indie listener as it currently gets from the rock and metal gatekeeping elite.

The quality of the tracks are enough to keep the most hardened of critics occupied and the depth of the album, both musically and lyrically, should hold your attention, whatever month it is.

Other You isn’t quite perfect. The album leans too heavily on dreamy tempos; more of the ‘motorik’ reverberations of the Grateful Dead-jamming-with-Neu! gem “Protection” wouldn’t go amiss. Gunn’s step into the unforgiving glare of the spotlight as a singer coincides with some fairly densely cryptic lyrics, too. Such misgivings are minor gripes when faced with closer “Ever Feel That Way”, a life-enriching anthem for empathy and mutual care.

Field recordings, earthly elements, human murmurs and heavy breathing mix seamlessly with synthesizers, drums and keyboards to produce a meditative enlightenment, with Jaar and Harrington creating an album based on opposites, successfully uniting the natural with the unnatural.

Goldie and Davidson’s sound is full and rich, and as Subjective they have managed to create an electronic album drenched in melancholy and distorted nostalgia.

Earl Grey’s range is ambitious, and it's executed with a gratifying versatility that lets it hold its head high when nodding to 60s psychedelic pop, 90s Britpop and sweaty pub indie.

These twelve bitter-sweet tracks are packed with bright pop hooks and jubilant melodies, just about sellotaped together with fuzz and rendered endearingly on the verge of constant collapse.

At a dozen tracks long, with The Crux, Djo is proving himself as a multi-faceted artist, being equally talented as both a performer and songwriter.

Lovesick, woozy, and somewhat optimistic, Are U Down? demonstrates an inherent musicality and dextrous ability that is likely to become magical in due course.

Yoncalla isn’t earth-shattering--everything sort of blends together, as is often the way with most dream pop records. But what does it matter when it’s the sort of album that makes you feel good.

No One Was Driving The Car represents a strong return to the guitar-driven, fictional, but nonetheless moving terrain of La Dispute’s third (and best) album following the more personal and pastoral Panorama.

His production has never felt so atmospheric and intimate; what was once a meek, deadpan mirror of lyrics is now a proto-expressionist conduit for any depth of emotion.

Small Changes manages the rare feat of being a beautifully crafted singer-songwriter album in the classic mould without paying audible tribute to any of its classic inspirations, or succumbing to mere tasteful politeness: an album that's informed by the past while sounding unmistakably now.

For all its pomp and broad appeal, it brims with the artist’s personality and is a delight to connect with.

It’s a brave act on Furler’s part, to stand up and present a body of work that so many other people deemed not good enough, but ultimately, it’s a great collection of pop songs, cynical or not.

While Esben may be the more established of the two bands here, the more critically massaged and beard-strokingly analysed, it’s Thought Forms that provide a sense of gameness, of openness and of actual fun that offers a welcome balance to Esben’s pummeling, near-savage emotional and musical beatings.

Nothing here seems out of place, which is a stark contrast to their last record A Deeper Understanding. ... The highlights and key tracks are in plentiful supply.

At an impressive bakers-dozen in length, Everything Still Worries Me is an impressive debut record from the rising pop-princess. Abbie Ozard is a sure-fire one to watch.

If their previous albums were the sound of cataclysmic blasts--of unhewn matter rebounding through the cosmos trying to manifest--then Corsicana Lemonade is the sound of their universe finally taking shape.

Trust is every bit as impressive as The Comet Is Coming's debut. Which is pretty high praise indeed.

Boisterous closer “Love Don’t” leaves no doubt that the Night Sweats are revelling in being a unit once again, after having spent the past few years apart, and they’re all the better for it. Their bluesy soul is being delivered with newfound heart, spirit and zeal, one that makes The Future jubilantly bright.

Hippopotamus feels like the latest volume in an alternate cultural history formed of all the weird things that only Sparks are audacious enough to make songs about. It’s an admirable commitment to silliness.

Despite such intense themes, the record manages to stay light and joyful, revelling in the potential that music and dance possess to draw communities together and find resolution.

They’re pushing the boundaries and reinterpreting music in an exciting way within the digital age, making us pause to rethink and reminisce what was special about a specific age of music and the amazing technology that has come before.

A daring, self-assured statement by a band who have finally figured out just what a special thing they have created with Volcano Choir, but still aren’t aware of where it’s going to take them next.

Lung Bread For Daddy’s inauspicious genesis plunged Beth Jeans Houghton deep into an artistic quagmire, yet she has escaped with another outstanding record.

Unforgettable, powerful, and easygoing all at once, Ragu’s maximalist debut is a special mark on the landscape from a new pop disruptor.

When compared to the mixing and progression of the original, it presents the same odd feeling for the same old record: you can see one of the greatest records of the 70s held captive by a spare mistake here and there. Held together, the original and its remixes could be pieced into Band on the Run’s finest hour.

How Do You Burn? ups the ante on its two predecessors going deeper in a richly assured display of Dulli and the band’s abilities.

It appears they have landed on something magnificent; symphonies of aching, internalised nostalgia and frequent beauty, bookended by hate, despair and some of their finest sonic experiments ever.

Though it will never be something you can boogie on down to, or strut your wiggly bits at, it will, without a shadow of a doubt, hold your attention.

With Strange Peace, Metz have created an album that still largely has one foot rooted in the best of their past, but sees the other stretching forward into a future that is just as riotous.

The record is a veritable patchwork of perspectives. It elevates the voices of women who, on paper, might seem broken, were it not for Remy’s ability to trade desperation for cynical dynamism.

This is a relatively direct album, and it gives you all you need to know about it within the first ten minutes, but its reliance on a consistent sonic palette only increases its power. Of course, Rønnenfelt is the star of the show – his name is on the marquee this time – but the songs are a very, very close second.

Even more consistently inspired than Eitzel's previous two, excellent solo albums (2009's Klamath and Don't Be A Stranger from 2012), Hey Mr Ferryman demands that Eitzel is at last granted at least as much attention and acclaim as his fellow songwriting Mark, former Red House Painters-leader Kozelek.

Rocket weaves a patchwork of complex emotions experienced by (Sandy) Alex G and his friends. The album is reaffirming and disheartening at the same time.

The Gossip may currently be no more, but with Ditto's solo album, we have a replacement that fills the void.

What William Tyler does is reach back into the past with complete honesty, and by doing so he’s able to create new and exciting sounds from the social, political and geographical changes of a particular period.

It’s no Plastic Beach, but, by ditching the often hackneyed attempts to stay relevant that verged on self-parody and digging into their identity and other existential fears, Gorillaz have demonstrated that they still have the power to feel vital.

Girlfriend Material sees shimmer traded for increased complexity alongside a confident pop-punk presence – one that defines the album’s major strength alongside a sharply served side-eye view of society.

With a wholehearted desire to make music purely for himself, UGLY displays an artistic freedom regained, reconnecting with what drew him to music in the first place. It’s a creative direction that will most likely not stick around, but that’s what makes it that bit more authentic.

Although wrestling with Sport, at first, may prove to be a challenging affair, it rapidly becomes a wholly rewarding and thorough sonic work-out.

Cabral and her band have taken what could have been a disaster and turned it into her best work. A stunning, unexpected album from an artist to keep a very close eye on.

With so much powerful percussion on display, it takes a few listens before you finally settle down and appreciate the more intimate and painstakingly-beautiful arrangements that fall in between Stranger to Stranger’s colossal thunderclaps.

Any Human Friend is an explosive body of work, one that isn’t afraid to discuss sex and female eroticism with a microscopic lens. Peeling away the layers to reveal an intrinsically human record.

There is something intangibly magnetic about In Love, and it feels like a wonderful, igniting record--when so many other “indie” records fail to stir any emotion other than indifference.

There is not a whiff of a cynical retread of old tricks during Raise the Roof, which manages the trick of coming across both sophisticatedly polished and winningly raw and in-the-moment.

Omnion isn't hugely different from the Hercules albums that came before it, but that's not really the appeal of the group: their records have always been episodic because of their guest vocalists, and Omnion feels like checking in with a group of friends, the focus shifting with each new song.

Rips is that album; there’s nary an ounce of artiness or innovation here, and it sounds almost hopelessly out of time in 2014, yet you can’t help but grin and love it just the same.

This is comfortably the most sonically-pristine album that Belle & Sebastian have made.

The entire EP clocks in at just under 15 minutes. Despite this, this has ensured quality over quantity and makes up for the potential disappointment felt by listeners due to Club Shy’s speedy turnaround. The synths are fat, Shygirl’s voice steps into places she rarely visits, and it's absolutely everything you could want from a Shygirl club cut, soaring as it takes a victory lap around what has played prior.

The tracks’ detailed arrangements are almost symphonic at places, but no matter how elaborate and eccentric they get, listeners are consistently guided by catchy ornamental melodies with which the album is replete. It’s this powerful juxtaposition that makes Age Of so compelling as an album.

It’s designed for the outdoors, for huge crowds and for losing your mind to. There are few artists that have perfected the kind of engrossing and engaging dance delights that Jono and Gabriel are demonstrating here.

Light Up Gold isn’t total hedonism, but as riotous, guitar-led escapes from the drudgery of the day to day go, it’s more than enough fun to convince you to go along for the ride.

A wholly strong and fruitful debut album from the scuzz-pop prince, there’s no doubt we’ll see more maturity and critical creations in Lang’s future.

Structureless, vindicating and yet jarring in moments, Two Star & The Dream Police is the sound of Mk.gee taking ownership of the musical world he’s been building for years.

In terms of coherence, it’s quite possibly their best LP since Imperial Wax Solvent.

There’s a communal ambience on show here; using three vocalists gives it a mixtape aesthetic, the music feeling like a bulging bag of pick and mix.

The artist’s love for effortless aesthetics may have ironically been brought into a confident big room setting on With A Hammer, but successfully merging thoughtful pop, trip hop, house and everything but the kitchen sink is surely anything but effortless.

As well as sounding incredible as a whole (not all of Swift’s previous albums have hung together as well as this one) these songs also have the air of a victory lap about them, as though Taylor’s basking in the glow of this new cottagecore indie-pop hybrid she’s found(ed).

Far from a fans-only stopgap, Häxan sustains the creative peaks the band scaled on Allas sak.

In short, Trials more or less achieves the goals the band set with Fear.

Agora is hypnotic, transient and valuable and a rarity which although oppressive at times ultimately delivers on a promise as tangible as it is striking.

With the exception of The Band-esque fable "Percy Faith", the more light-hearted material proves less memorable. Even so, The Horizon Just Laughed continues Jurado's recent winning streak.

If a long playing ode to the wonder of women was the driving concept behind G I R L, then of course, Williams has failed. If however, you want to hear an artist at the height of his popularity who’s all up in this place for a good time, then grab a hand and raise a cup (if you must), this G I R L will keep you entertained throughout.

In short, afraid may demand a bit more from the consumer, in terms of mindful listening, but variety and range (and intensity) are indeed present, even if more understatedly.

All irony aside, this bold debut is something to be admired--a creative and eclectic gem to be cherished and nurtured.

We’re left with an album that hides behind the idea of specificity--the title and the lyrical content certainly want you to believe as such--but that ultimately provides a ferocious observation of our lopsided society. It’s also the best out-and-out rock record that Harvey’s made since Uh Huh Her.