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.

The ten deft and devastating songs soundtracking this latest instalment flash by in a blur. It’s around the third play that things start falling into place.

Author & Punisher’s Krüller is a sonic purge that rages and recoils in equal measure, enhanced by collaboration, but with Shone remaining the master of ceremonies of his distinctive noise.

Jurado has remained steadfastly allergic to any stereotypical singer-songwriter navel-gazing from day one, and perhaps it’s this aversion to familiar templates that both keeps the masses at an arm’s length and makes albums like Reggae Film Star so richly rewarding for those in the know.

In Spades sees Greg Dulli synthesizing all of his musical and thematic elements seemingly into everything he’s ever wanted.

The electronic elements probably won’t quite be to everybody’s tastes, but even then, the energy with which they’re delivered should be enough to make up for it.

Lux feels refreshing in the freedom and desire to explore new territory, resulting in a win for both.

The Magic proves surreal until the very end, just as promised.

Chromatica is not Lady Gaga returning to form, that would imply she’s ever had a dull moment - even Joanne held its own in a world of expectation - what is however, is an embellishment of who she is, both inward and outward, in a moment where the world needs beating, pulsating music to get lost in.

Ultimately though, there's more here that will shock than will appease.

Where Shall We Begin is a must listen. It takes your hand from the offset, guiding you over each obstacle found on the album and gently lifts you down onto a bed of understanding at its end. Truly beautiful stuff.

An Inbuilt Fault transcends emotion in favour of exploration.

As with the best pop albums, it sounds like a greatest hits record. The songs flow into each other seamlessly as well as standing on their two own feet, which is an astonishing achievement.

Despite each track standing incredibly strong on its own, it sometimes feels as though Ashworth is taking on more than the album can handle. A more decisive sound and Squeeze could be one of the best albums of the year, however, Ashworth’s indecision pulls the listener from one emotion to the next without ample time for digestion.

Not everything on Peacers works, but when it does, it’s the sonic equivalent of driving along a beach with a summer breeze rushing right through you.

So Much (For) Stardust’s main takeaway is the palpable, radiating carefree joy.

This is an album that sits somewhere between Lynch and Lucifer, ethereal in its softer moments and utterly savage at its loudest.

Put simply, Alternative Light Source manages to sound both fresh and exciting, and like old Leftfield all at once.

Lighthearted and wild in places, intimate and revealing in others, Ugly Cherries is whatever you want it to be.

Spooky Action is as dense and detailed as his former band’s best known work, but song for song he picks one mode and more or less sticks to it, setting up a more reasonable barrier to entry.

What Farao does so well on Pure-O is to create something nuanced and interesting. With an extra bit of reverb here, a pitch shift there, she ensures that the stands out from other synthpop, which can feel clinical: too clean and polished.

It’d be easy for Tracing Back to follow down the paths of say, GAS, or the somber mirk of Kyle Bobby Dunn, but thoughtfully, Cantu-Ledesma never verges over that line even though he may hint at it. Instead, by staying in line, Tracing Back serves as one of this year’s most angelically-bright collections of ambient music.

The results are musically elegant, emotionally eloquent, and absolutely vital.

In a scene over-stuffed with ‘80s-throwback melancholia, it is Byczkowski’s ambition, scope, and keen sense of melodrama that set Something to Lose apart.

Ugly Season confirms Hadreas’s commitment to discovery and resistance to reiteration.

Formentera II more than succeeds in claiming its own place in the world, less a sequel more a very satisfying entity in its own right – on this evidence Metric’s continuing existence seems entirely justified.

It’s a celebration of what Maribou State does best: creating music that feels timeless and deeply personal. And while we might continue to wait for the moment when they push their boundaries and fully realize their potential, this journey toward that horizon is just as compelling.

The beats prove slick with how they are able to further express his feelings, the lyrics are solid with bits of metaphors sprinkled for impact, and the production itself enlivens the whole experience. It wouldn’t be out of place for Joseph to come back in the next few years with a bigger masterpiece.

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.

It’s ultimately futile to fight the album’s considerable charms, culminating in “When It Rains”, a low-lit, minimalist beauty that eventually curdles into a storm of fiercely shrieking guitar feedback and electronic dissonance.

The album’s sonic homogeneity lends it an air of sameness at first blush, but the details burrow their way out on subsequent listens; the guitar work, in particular, offers fleeting doses of delightfully understated melodicism to counterpoint the slow industrial grind beneath.

Same As You isn’t going to be the most exciting release from Polar Bear you’ll hear, but it is a solid and entirely welcomd release from a band who rarely put a foot wrong.

What’s most striking about Bandwagonesque, though, is how tenderly Gibbard’s treated it; this is undoubtedly the sound of somebody very much in love with the source material.

Within its nine tracks, Gunn addresses matters of death, acceptance, and expectations, all of which round his music with serenity and credence, thus positioning him on the forefront not only as a quintessential narrator for our time, but a faithful guide who gently directs us revitalized and untroubled.

The truth is that they are both thoughtful, sometimes sentimental musicians, with voices that can sing of love and hurt just as much as eating croissants (“Continental Breakfast”) or friendly girls who insist on touching your face (“Untogether”)--and this is delightful.

Every Country’s Sun is an intent-drenched return to form from a band who, thank Christ, have never once abandoned it.

Hoodies All Summer is an exceptional achievement, proving once again that Kano is one of the UK’s most versatile, thoughtful and talented voices.

Mercy shows woods and Elucid delving more deeply into surrealism, their lyrical flows, brimming with uninhibited leaps, often bordering on stream-of-consciousness. The Alchemist’s approach is lighter, his treatments perhaps more precisely wielded than on Haram. With Mercy, Armand Hammer continue to radicalize and aestheticize rap, pushing language beyond the conventional – all while reflecting the savage world we live in.

It's a fully-formed debut that demonstrates Giannascoli's talent for a variety of genres, pop bedrock and his own idiosyncratic experiments. As non-debuts go, they don't come much stronger.

It is a cohesive collection, each ballad given similar treatment, steadied and prettied to similar effect, and the exercise is sadly brief.

They've created something cinematic, pragmatic, and above all, fantastically like nothing we’ve heard from them before.

Knowing What You Know feels like a journey, one that’s filled with mountainous climbs and treacherous lows, each to be consumed with reckless abandon, because that’s exactly what Marmozets are--a force to be reckoned with.

At times strained, others contemplative, though always whimsical, theirs is a carefully constructed character, one that refuses to take itself too seriously though never dares become anything close to disinterested. And for that, and indeed much else, they should be highly commended.

I quit shows that HAIM will always make good music, and while this record doesn’t radically shift the formula, it reinforces their strengths: thoughtful songwriting, tight production, and seamless cohesion as a trio.

The renewed cohesion and collaboration may have saved the band during this album’s recording process, airing grievances and settling put-off tensions, but the resulting homogeny of their sound lacks real bite and feels muddied.

Mental Wounds is a spectacular display of two bands continuing to push expectations and who’re willing to be the flagbearers for revision.

It’s a classic KC album. His Scottish brogue, the bagpipes, accordion and harp all reappear for his now expected impish magic.

Post Pop Depression doesn't really sound like anything Pop's done before, yet it sounds unmistakably, naturally like an Iggy Pop album, a very good and, at its frequent best, impressively alive one, proving that what Pop really needs is a collaborator who understands how best to frame his unique talents.

The emotional gravity carried by its brevity and simplicity, a quantum leap from last year's self-titled EP, is nothing less than astounding.

An outstanding (dare I say ‘perfect’) debut.

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.

What sets Kiwi Jr. apart from their peers though is their madcap view of the world and Cooler Returns establishes them as a band too confident to conform; a band who have all the skills to match their lyrical smarts.

Pedestrian Verse sees Frightened Rabbit make a triumphant return to the magnificent songwriting present on their lauded second album, The Midnight Organ Fight.

While there are moments of genuine honesty and emotional clarity, these are overshadowed by Halsey’s refusal to let the music breathe.

With how much groundwork they’ve already laid, Friko can afford to conduct themselves more lightly this time, but there are promises from their introduction that we’re still waiting for.

Though many of the band's distinct hallmarks show face – heavier than ever, even – somehow their latest record sounds miraculously and hideously new, proving their aversion to any mindless repetition.

At worst, Sexwitch marks a fascinating detour in an already accomplished career. At best, it’s a creatively adventurous standalone release. In actuality, it likely falls somewhere in the middle.

He’s at his best when tracks uncoil like little vignettes, leaving small clues that pile up towards the end.

Even as another merely good Wilco album, however, Schmilco does pay plentiful dividends for listeners patient enough to discover its gradually revealed riches.

Fairhurst has delivered his most cohesive record yet, filled with love, sadness, excitement and familiarity – the essential building blocks that helped to fortify the foundations of house music decades ago.

It sounds like The Family was BROCKHAMPTON’s most overtly challenging album to make, saturated with honesty even when it’s difficult. But there’s a sense that going out with intention freed them up creatively like never before.

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

Thematically, it can seem like a little bit of a kitchen sink job in places, but there’s certainly no shortage of crushingly safe folk songwriters at present; in fact, Jurado’s disregard for convention and appetite for reinvention stick out like a sore thumb amongst the output of many of his contemporaries.

Visions of Bodies Being Burned, like its predecessor, is macabre and monstrous in all of the ways that your leering curiousity would have it. It’s a taut exploration of hatred and hostility, one which stands shoulder-to-shoulder with its demonic older brother.

In a live arena the sinister power that Restarter wields will thrill, but as a static piece it's dense beyond reason.

Driven by the same melancholy curiosity that has epitomised the band’s trajectory to date, it instead makes for a wonderfully apt ending to this particular Kinsella adventure. At least for now.

Maruja and their defiant debut record meet us at that starting point, helping us to make sense of a world gone numb, to turn numbness into feeling and fire.

While Hecker continues to be a paradigm in formulating how sound exists, he proves with Anoyo what it means to extend his means and throughout its cleansing spirit, Hecker evokes a bewitching status, serving as one of today’s continued and top creators of elysian odysseys.

The Ultra Vivid Lament is impregnated with an array of influences ranging from ‘80s pop to ‘90s arena rock to the band’s own (mostly) splendid legacy. There’s also a certain penchant for experimentalism, which takes the listener back to forgotten currents of post-rock aesthetics, even though the band is always commercially careful not to push the boundaries too much.

Late Developers is self-indulgent, majestic at times, and just another chapter in the storied history of a Scottish group that deserves mention at the table.

Blake’s a master at making heartbreak sound beautiful. Now, on Friends That Break Your Heart, he makes it sound like something in service of the best version of yourself.

Rather than rushing into something, Inji is a complex compilation of his finest material.

Sampa The Great's latest offering ensures that she will remain a beacon in her home continent of Africa and beyond.

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.

While retaining links with Toledo's DIY past, much of the tracks bleed in to one another, making stand-out moments such as "The Drum" and "Times To Die" fall flatter than they deserve. Fortunately however, the entire second half of the record makes up for any early indiscretions.

Here Lies the Body holds a sweeter and more sentimental Moffat than one might expect. Some of these songs could be parallel universe versions of Arab Strap tales; the scenes quite similar, but the perspective lightened, finding tender humor in human intimacy that’s tart but not bitter.

Overall, although there is quite a bit of filler on Rabbit Rabbit, the album does contain some enjoyable songs, with Dupuis and Molholt demonstrating their obvious talents for solid guitar riffs at several points.

There is a mix of winsome romanticism and righteous anger throughout the album, but it’s occasionally difficult to see which are tongue-in-cheek or genuine.

It doesn’t necessarily stay in your head all day but when the drawling rhymes cut in there is attitude and thought provocation in buckets.

That’s why it's a remarkable debut, it doesn’t sound like anyone else, it sounds like Lowly, who on Heba are a band completely on top of their own game.

2013 is as much an adventure story, autobiography, romantic poem and a classical opus as it is a pop record. But what makes it so convincing comes down to Jones’s passion. Every note of the record convinces you that the Welshman believes 100% that he’s on the right path.

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.

Burgess’ omnivorous pop palate leads the music through baroque flourishes, residual California vibes, and a laser battle reminiscent of Joy Division’s “Insight” in the sunny swell of “Warhol Me,” with equal aplomb. It is a kinder, gentler rock and roll, perhaps, envisioned by someone who is convinced that “the future is friendly.”

This ability to traverse a broad gamut of styles and emotions betrays a scope lacking on Before We Forgot How To Dream, with the artist evolving to incongruously couple shimmering charm with a fatalistic sense of reality. The interplay of frayed confessional tenacity with pristine production polish reinforces this ambiguity, a tension that secures this as a confident follow-up to an acclaimed 2015 breakthrough.

Maybe it’s a little lighter, a little more carefree, a little sparer than her last few--or maybe it’s just that she doesn’t sound so hurt--but this feels like a step into something fresh. If not a creative rebirth, then a creative renewal.

On this album, the influences are acknowledged and respected while still managing to sound original.

His truly great albums tend to freshen things up by rearranging and adding to the toolkit whereas, by trekking back to earlier, unadorned works, this one maybe feels a bit too familiar. That said, it's still easily impressive enough for visitors to Sheffield to want to check out Hollow Meadows, too.

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.

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.

Overall though, this is a special album, and a real accomplishment. To make a record largely of solo violin music with songs played as impeccably as this, but have the performance itself not be the focus, is remarkable.

They’ve made a cracking collection of songs on Dalmak that are immersive and highly visual--even without lyrics, the four-piece are adept at weaving tabula rasa backings on which vivid imaginations are free to roam and gallop like free-range chickens.

Even though everything that Ultimate Painting have to offer has been heard before, the richness of their chosen source material- so utterly packed with hooks- puts them onto a winner.

Executed with conviction and instilled with its spirited concept, Good Luck and Do Your Best is an excitingly off-beat take on a feel-good album. This is Gold Panda’s most accomplished and adventurous work yet.

With Endless Summer, Sóley has delivered a reminder for us all to emotionally re-set.

The production team--Ben Turner and Part Chimp’s Tim Cedar--have done too good a job of capturing the excellent beats and riffs upon which the record is built, and this throws the shortcomings of the vocals into sharper relief. However, when the record works, it works, simultaneously in the senses of cohesion, physical graft and mechanistic industry.

This is the most listener-friendly and accessible that Speedy Ortiz have ever been. But the band hasn’t left behind their heavy grunge sound, despite what many long-time fans will think when they listen to Twerp Verse. They’ve just given their sound a clever makeover, and taken the next step in their evolution as a band by doing so.

Last Building Burning is, truly, as inspiring, energizing and life-affirming as punk is likely to get in 2018.

If this is what burgeoning motherhood looks like, then it is not a manufactured, diluted, and palatable version of oneself. Rather, it is an extension of an existing strong character, and in Kehlani we celebrate the power of a mother who isn’t afraid to say what she really thinks.