Hooking up with producer Patrik Berger (Robyn, Charli XCX, Icona Pop) has given her music an explicit clarity. His prowess in the studio with some of some of the biggest leftfield pop artists of recent times gives an impressive breadth to the sound which manages to sound both large-scale and minutely detailed, the unfussy execution perfect for Boman’s introspective and unassuming vocal delivery.

Manic revels in the explorative genre-pop bombast, letting the delicates twinkle, and the snarls bare their teeth; yet it's the soul that shines dominantly. It's her most complete work to date.

This is one of those rare records were extra additions aren't just unnecessary; fine as they are, the fuller arrangements of some of these same songs included here as bonus tracks suggest that Fay has cooked up material of such elemental and fragile beauty that any additional noises could easily scare away the magic.

The band’s fun and pretty new full-length, Deleter, continues this growth and expansion. To wit, it’s the album that least resembles their first.

Fans of Field Music will be absolutely overjoyed with this set, and of course, fans of '80s art rock will be in their element. Those put off by the unwieldy concept ultimately have nothing to fear – the WWI themes are completely ignorable, and so disparately connected that the only reason you’d ever know they were there was if somebody told you in advance.

Algiers really fucking mean every note, and their radical politics soak through each track like petrol through a rag. If they overdo it from time to time, so be it – how nice it is to hear a band giving a little too much of a fuck, rather than not enough.

Deeply hypnotic, by turns soothing and unsettling tracks.

Taken on its own merits, Walking Like We Do is an unmitigated success, and a timely reminder of the simplicity of youth.

Essentially, this is sugar-rush, hyperactive pop music for people with the attention span of a gnat.

It’s difficult not to wish that the entire album was full of the same ingenuity as its first half, because there's so much potential and talent evident in those first tracks. It’s still early days, though, and the huge themes and inspirations Georgia plays with in Seeking Thrills showcase a true rising star of British pop.

Uncut Gems is a triumph. The Oneohtrix Point Never albums occupy almost every different mood the human body is capable of expressing and now Lopatin’s soundtrack work is starting to do the same. We’ve had the moody, anxious Lopatin on Good Time and now Uncut Gems has allowed him to show his more thoughtful and emotional side.

What with imitation being the greatest form of flattery, this must be one of the most flattering albums of all time. This is music by Devo fans, for Devo fans, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

Bubba has a subtle confidence that beds in after each listen. Welcome back mate, we missed you.

There’s no doubt about it. Through their brand of R&B, funk and soul, they nod to legends like Stevie Wonder, Parliament-Funkadelic, and others, while putting their own infectious, modern twist on it.

Fine Line is a solid, playful pop album, but that matters less than its status as a source of uncomplicated comfort and affirmation. When everything feels hopeless, pop music feels frivolous, but there’s joy in frivolity, and deep meaning in joy.

Walrus convincingly display a sense of contentment on Cool To Who, guided by a sound redolent of late-'60s/early '70s songwriting; a format that, while not revolutionary in and of itself, is executed with enough style and supple brevity to denote an increasingly honed command of structure in their output.

A powerful collection. And if Heavy Is The Head is one thing, it’s aware of its own worth.

Songs For You is triumphant; those unexpected pivots more often than not being pulled off with an addictive energy. For those that had given up hope, Songs For You is a sign that you should never count Tinashe out just yet. Now fully back in control, her only way is up.

Hidden History of the Human Race isn’t just one of the best death metal albums of the year, it’s one of the best metal albums of the entire decade. Stripped of its reductive metal assignations, it’s also one of the finest psychedelic albums of the decade.

This is a thrilling conclusion to an incredible, peerless career, and it just so happens to be one of the greatest posthumous albums of all time.

Tainted Lunch is an irresistible delight; once you taste it you know you can never go without it again. Seductive, inescapable, overpowering, and you might need to take a shower afterwards.

It’s only six tracks long, and all of the tracks are under seven minutes, but it often feels twice that length. Souleyman’s music has always been intense, but Shlon feels as though it’s been dry-aged, sun-dried and mummified – his voice seems rawer and wilder than ever, the electronics are fiercer and sharper than before, and each of these jams has a sonic gravity you would expect to find in a Berlin club at 2AM.

As a whole, the album rejects traditional song structures, though the final three tracks (“Shy”, “Fade Away” and “Make Believe”) are arguably the most melodic on the record. Such a duality implies the sheer range of Diamond’s artistry, so much so that it would be criminal to label her a “new kind of popstar”. Simply put, she is a new kind of star, an artistic voice that stands out in the tumult of the modern musical world.

While there’s no memorable poppy chorus here, or lush, full-band arrangements, or zany quirkiness, Hyperspace is nevertheless totally Beck: an experiment in broadening his own horizons, trying something new, which yet again just so happens to sound quite refreshing. It’s a worthy addition to this musical chameleon’s catalogue.

Here, we observe Celeste widening her scope by lessening it, capturing new forms of light as a nascent force – one who has quickly catapulted her name into the stratosphere of what it takes to rebrand and revolutionize the club.

Coldplay are a band who explore. Be it the origins of their emotional landscape, or the shallow depths of the mainstream world or even the actual vibrancy; every effort has been made to create an audible spectacle. And gaze on as a band who've evolved into an unstoppable entity carry on their organic exploration.

You can come here for the unsuspecting pop songs, the meditations on traditional Scandinavian folk music, the strange humour and infectious friendships. Against the great abyss of tangled internet information, Saints and Sebastian Stories is an unobtrusive gem.

Heavier than his last offering, this is an album that sees Maltese dissect his psyche during a particularly rough time, and lay it out on a plate. Matt Maltese is an artist bursting with true musicianship and this record demonstrates the versatility that underpins his enormous talent.

It’s the moments of clumsy transitions, erratic woodwind inclusions and underwhelming choruses however that throw some doubt on that suggestion, but there's still much to love on Girl.

In short, there’s a sad irony to the title of this album; as a body of work, it derives courage through its commitment to playing it safe.

It’s disorientating, harrowing, yet hopeful – the ending needed to complete the circle. The only thing to do now is go back to the start and enjoy it all over again.

These are songs written for the sheer joy found in creating and sharing that still hold within them a much deeper core. ... Beautifully constructed, candid, and hopeful vignettes.

Overall, this material is essential listening for hardcore fans of Bob Dylan, recommended listening for fans of Johnny Cash, and somewhat life-affirming for folks who have Nashville Skyline as their favourite ever album. But for everyone else, there is the sense that this material making up its own standalone set shows either a lack of foresight or a thirst for dollars.

Free and unshackled - while also troubled and brooding - is a decent way to summarise this hypnotic, deceptively sparse gem of an album.

For those who already love the album, the remix works best when Litt’s touch is relatively light. An intriguing aspect of the remix is the renewed focus on Stipe’s vocals. ... The remix aside, this reissue should be a chance for those previously sceptical of Monster to give it another try.

Each featured artist brings their best game and does what they do best. And in return, K&K thrive, bouncing off the energy of their fellow artists.

There’s the sense that the artist is using this record as a transitionary vehicle, a space where he can blend familiar themes with unfamiliar sounds, adopt different lyrical approaches and mix them with different styles of production and instrumentation. Such an effort is testament to Sweatshirt’s status as one of the foremost artists of the hip-hop avant-garde.

It is an unsparing, anguished release in which we see an artist laid bare and tapping into a more natural and resonant version of her sound and self. It is the fullest and most developed work from FKA Twigs to date.

He found himself in a rut, did what many of us would be too scared to do, and spent time with just his thoughts, for weeks on end. He waded through them, and came out the other side with his best batch of songs in years.

With Your Wilderness Revisited, William Doyle hopes to bring you along on a magic carpet ride through suburban England, where you will find new ways of experiencing pathways, front gardens and parked cars as though they were entirely new concepts.

The album marks a significant advance for A Winged Victory…, in accepting the challenge of unorthodox inspiration, and doing musical justice to it in highly convincing fashion.

It’s a fine line to walk between variety and novelty. Metal Galaxy dances along this line in admittedly very fun way, but that fun is at the expense of true depth and soul.

In its bone-chilling, earnest spirit, we witness Swans maintaining a power they never lost – we see them exceeding expectations, branding themselves as a seismic force in experimental rock, and here, they continue to touch on that greatness.

Despite being an excellent release in many ways, Networker nonetheless reinforces the belief that we are only scratching the surface of what Omni have to offer.

It is possible to be fooled by the compelling, sugary pop song layers that unfold on this record, but there is so much more going on underneath it all and therein lies some of the complexity and fascination.

In short, it’s a bit of a misfire.

While Life Metal serves as the stronger of the two LPs, Pyroclasts holds its own, musing reflection placed boldy alongside atmospheric fury – two elements that have shaped Sunn O)))’s career and why they continue to be ranked as a top-tier act capable of reconfiguring heavy metal and pushing it into new territory.

People will say it's better than its predecessor, but at least that album had the good sense to be as gross as it was unlistenable. JESUS IS KING isn’t even as hilariously shit or infuriatingly offensive as Ye – it's one great tune and a bunch of other ideas, and it isn’t entertaining in the slightest.

Listening to Anicca is like watching the sunlight burst through a stained glass window: everything you hear is bathed in light; warm, soft-focused notes swirl together in a wash of colour – the perfect soundtrack to brighten any setting.

On Heavy Lifter they continue to find catharsis while moving in reverse as the bronzed halos of nostalgia meld with the intimacy of their blazed slow-core.

Strauss is going to continue heating up as an artist and Cheap Queen will add a whole lot of fuel to that fire.

Sudan radiates confidence on Athena, uniting distinct musical elements as if they belonged together all along. It’s an album that sounds like nothing else.

The context, the lyrical content, and the overwhelming volume of their sound kicks and crashes through traumatic themes, providing a cathartic burst of anxious freedom. It’s a record designed to bite chunks out of its listeners, and will probably have the same effect when heard live.

Resonating like a joyful shout in the distance, Four of Arrows draws you towards it, and you’d be a fool not to follow.

This is an exceptionally compelling, absorbing, rich, and genuinely human piece of work.

Fibs is thrilling because it doesn’t adhere to the usual. A freewheeling, freethinking treat for the senses which reveals a musician at the height of her powers.

The eleven songs here are tidy and self-contained but not sealed. The possibilities for Black Marble continue to open.

Rex’s true feelings have been told marvellously within this sonic journal. Through his own unique artistry, Rex has created an album that is wonderfully creative. This third album cements his status as a nascent national treasure.

Like recent releases by Robyn or Solange, this expansive and beautiful record shows Vagabon as an expert at creating pleasure and soulful reassurance from electronic pop – a surprising but welcome heelturn.

Pang is a remarkable debut album assured of its legitimacy and brilliance, one that should be celebrated for its shimmering beauty and the success of its authorial intent.

Somebody’s Knocking represents the point of no return – he's finally surpassed his past achievements, forgotten his past lives, cast off his old names and fully solidified his position as the pre-eminent ruler of the dark kingdom of gothic rock.

With There Existed An Addiction To Blood, Clipping have artfully seized upon the viscera of the horrorcore genre, creating an album which is both disheartening and sonically intriguing. It is yet another successful experiment for the group and one of the eeriest examples of modern hip-hop to date.

Juice B Crypts is an uncompromised, multi-faceted assault course for the brain, but one you won’t regret taking.

Old LP is so assured and confident, it’s easy to imagine another two decades of additional back catalogue we simply never heard. ... It’s a stunning success.

While most of the individual tracks dazzle, there's not much of a unifying theme the bind the pleasantly punishing beats, pastoral orchestral leanings and ambient drifts together. Even so, Crush may not be the album more recent converts to Floating Points may have hoped for, but it is worthy of our undivided attention regardless.

Two Hands is a great record, and a stunning artistic accomplishment – a reminder if you needed one that this is Lenker’s THIRD album in twelve months – but it’s also devilishly clever in that it isn’t a perfect album. If it was, they’d have nowhere to go on the next one.

It’s clear that they’re at their best when they’re drawing from the college rock/grunge well, and disappointing that they feel they have to include 36,000 different rock styles to be taken seriously.

Deceiver isn’t your Oshin or Is the Is Are, not by a longshot. Yet, while certain touchstones are present that give away that this is in fact DIIV, in a much larger sense we’re observing a band operating unlike they have before, and in the midst of that shift, they execute it stunningly.

No Home Record is heavy in its use of experimentation, yet it results in a vividly cutting and complex portrait of what it means to live in contemporary LA, and a superb introduction to the solo Kim Gordon.

From their dream-pop origins, through their psychedelic sophomore, they have arrived at a spiritual revolution with Emerald Classics. It's a development to be proud of, to feel good about.

Closer to Grey is the coldest, shiniest, most polished collection of songs released under the Chromatics banner. It’s chillier, darker and more sinister than anything else they’ve ever put out.

A rich, shifting tapestry of grief, beauty, tailspinning disorientation, and illuminating snatches of lucidity.

If you’re looking for an album with a coherent, tangible theme then perhaps this isn’t the one for you. Instead it’s a coagulation of the weird and the wonderful, and just a snapshot of the immense power of FEET. Complete madness, but so much fun.

Though it lacks in the experimentation of Atrocity Exhibition, it compensates with cohesion and undeniable quality. As a presentation of Brown as an exceptional rapper, it ticks all the right boxes.

It’s concise, it’s even, and it feels structured. Its main issue is that it’s nothing that new or inventive and on that basis alone is what essentially damns their efforts. But despite that gripe, Vivian Girls have always surrounded their LPs with charm.

Such moments of challenging, bold experimentation (which Wilco hasn't really bothered with off-stage on this scale for a while), coupled with a set of by turns desolate and uplifting, strange and sweet tunes, makes Ode to Joy mandatory listening for anyone interested in the enduring creative potential of rock - sorry, folk – music.

It’s all at once a whirlwind of colliding ideas both past and present, a bold stride into the future, a new sound pushed beyond expectation, an album that marks the passing of time and the changing of minds, a continued rebirth.

Stars Are The Light drifts unassumingly in a dreamlike state and although the key component of all of their albums up to this point is relegated to atmospherics, it’s a transition which has been made with ease.

Most of the songs on Air Con Eden are enveloped in this haze of hallucinatory imagery and soporific instrumentals. The wrenching “Water” is a shock to the system. Grounded, unironically sentimental, and unlike anything else on the album, it’s a gorgeous piano ballad about unbearable loneliness.

While these tracks aren’t necessarily bad by any definition, they certainly lack the charisma that M83 is known for.

The Talkies is a devastating and jaw-dropping record that provokes awe and anxiety in equal measure. Although there are elements throughout the record that are ‘quintessentially’ Girl Band, The Talkies builds upon these elements and makes a vast leap sonically and narratively with the aid of unrestrained experimentation. There is a definitive artistic expression found on The Talkies and frankly it should be a late contender for any albums of the decade list.

A Picture of Good Health addresses issues more personal. And though predicated on personal experience, it’s a record that looks inwardly while projecting outwards, all the while letting listeners know that however on your own you might feel, someone somewhere has been through the same, and that you’re not alone, no matter how much it might seem like it.

His further point of recognizing singing as his strength and songwriting as his weakness is the most self-aware and perceptive comment either Gallagher has ever made professionally, and Why Me? Why Not clearly benefits as a result.

The sparser the group go, the more space they have to fill and the more it sometimes feels like they’re straining. There’s beauty here, no doubt, and they’ve lost none of their technical skill. The move to Danish also brings an exciting new element. But, after years away working together on other projects, one suspects there's room for more inspiration here.

Taylor and co-producer Brad Cook (Bon Iver producer and collaborator, formerly of Megafaun) use the space and details of the performances to emphasise the mood of the songs more effectively than ever before.

Not unlike The Twilight Sad’s mastery of making an emotional impact with the combination of a few choice blunt images and a monolithic musical arrangement, Of the Sun derives a good portion of its power from persistence. Trupa Trupa continue to hit the mark as they experiment with simplification without excising the art from their rock.

Lookout Low is brought to a mellow ending with slow rock song “Sunken II”. The album as a whole has to be Twin Peaks’ most diverse, musically explorative and mature album yet, leaving fans with curiosity and excitement about where the band will go from here.

Days of the Bagnold Summer encapsulates the best of Belle and Sebastian whist simultaneously narrating the key themes of the film. The gentle approach of the album and the complementary nature of the band’s rerecording’s and the new tracks are hard to fault. Belle and Sebastian have truly found a beautiful sweet spot on Days of the Bagnold Summer between a film soundtrack and a signature sounding album.

Birth of Violence isn’t Wolfe’s best album, or her most intense, or her most accessible. But what it is is a combination of elegant songcraft, dread-fuelled musicianship and otherworldly vocals. ... Birth of Violence no longer stands in the centre of the crossroads, it opens up a new road... down.

Through AMHAC, JPEGMAFIA has attempted to produce something so questionable, unique and conflicted in its elements, that on first glance, it’s uninviting and dissonant. This goes for the use of his close friends giving faux unfavourable comments about the record in the PR campaign too. Yet that friction he creates and the doubt at the front of your mind makes you concentrate more, breathe in every element and realise its undeniable quality.

While the two records share an airy, ethereal DNA, The Practice of Love is a far more palatable, more replayable affair – it just doesn’t seem to hit as hard as its sister, but very few albums do.

Ma, to an extent, substitutes freeform elements with a more bankable linear path, orienting between breezy accessibility and flashes of lateral sprawl; a pattern that serves to engage adequate interest. Honeyed highlights compensate for less tight moments, paralleled with a ponderous, but temperate pace; translating into an elegant offering from Banhart, despite gratifying a teasing fondness for excess.

Miami Memory displays an increasing, albeit cautious, capacity to divert from a well-trodden trail; seeing Cameron’s confessional voice explored and defined to a degree previously unseen in his output.

Showing no desire to even the scales or to polish the extremities of his vision, as we near the end of this decade (Sandy) Alex G has re-established himself and one of our most inventive and intriguing voices.

This is a debut album that cements Fender’s place at the golden table: the perfect first attempt.

Tracks are also structurally diverse. Fans expecting an album stacked with back-to-back bangers, as Nights Out (2008) and The English Riviera (2011) are, will be caught off guard. Instead Mount gives his creative muscles space to flex wide, sandwiching catchy hits between mysterious soundscapes and zany instrumentals.

Charli is almost there. Ultimately she’s too gloriously messy and multitudinous to produce such a thing. Although she could often benefit from an editor, her process and vision doesn’t adhere to the music industry’s prioritisation of the album format – which feels right for an artist whose music could be read as an attempt to dissolve time itself.

It's a moody, hazy, gloomy take on modern jazz. It’s also a return of Iggy Pop the elder statesman, the icon, the legend in his own lifetime. But, more than that, it provides a fitting end to a career, on his own terms, if that’s what he wants it to be.