When he’s crooning swoon-heavy gut-punches, he’s unstoppable. When he guns for swaggering electro-pop or soul-infused dance bangers, there’s almost nothing than can get in the way--this is the best pop music in the U.K. right now.

Forging strength in the wake of confusion, The Haze is the rapturous escape you've been craving.

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.

Kingdoms In Colour is an album that lingers with you even once it has finished; leaving an afterglow of warmth on everyone it touches.

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.

You, Whom I Have Always Hated is a remarkably coherent and singular piece of work, which, due to its economy and pacing, never stumbles across an ill-fitting moment in which you can hear the seam that joins two different creative forces.

Fast Food isn’t as labyrinthine as her debut--exits are neon-lit fire escapes rather than barricaded doors--but it is just as powerful.

It’s incredibly immersive, and at times it can be emotionally overwhelming.

Aftershock may not have come from the same dark hole that spawned those bad boys [Overkill, Ace Of Spades, 1916 and Bastards], but as a statement of intent, it’s right up there with them.

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.

Sleep of Reason then is a ponderous rolling through complexly changing scenery, no one drive-through ever seeming the same, more than a roller-coaster ride that promises the same loops each time.

Throughout this accomplished, assured new record, Lana manages to repeatedly freeze time and capture those fleeting cinematic moments that make us who we are, while reminding us of who we could be.

Where some tracks edge towards lounge territory, on the most part, this is a an album that surely won’t sink.

Take Her Up to Monto continues Murphy’s reemergence as one of the most interesting and chameleonic electro artists of the moment.

An addicting 46-minute listen that grows with consecutive approaches.

Opening themselves up to new concepts and sounds, but retaining their trademark ability to captivate and obliterate in equal measure, listening to Holy Fawn’s Dimensional Bleed inspires a deep, unfading admiration for a truly genre-defying band.

Whether it’s cheering the night off with friends and family or spent in reflective solitude, I’m Bad Now is something you want to experience and get lost in, and if you don’t come back for a while, it’ll be just fine.

Although the switch to stark monochrome from the blazing multicolour of the Maraqopa trilogy can seem underwhelming and slight at first, further listens reveal In the Shape of a Storm--boosted by Jurado’s hypnotically committed, intimate performances--to hold together surprisingly well considering the disparate origins of the material.

What I Don’t Run does do is that it takes the already colourful palette that the group used for Leave Me Alone and expands on every aspect of it, imbuing it with the sort of fizz and crackle that you can’t fake--it’s only ever the product of a thriving live outfit. Hinds are approaching full bloom.

6 Feet Beneath The Moon is an album of mixed emotions, a complex work of focused, driven highs and meandering, confusing lows.

The ten songs on this thing really are special, and worthy of the epic introduction tacked on to every article about it.

Masking our flawed humanity with flawless electro, the South London trio fork over a delicious portion of pessimistic pop, drizzled in scrumptious synths and glorious electronic production, but bypassing a sugarcoating of over-hackneyed hedonism.

Despite its purpose, The General is a warm, intricate experience that can soundtrack whatever you need it to on each listen.

Although The Main Thing isn’t perfect, it serves as their version of it as we see Real Estate continuing to be both consistent and reliable as ever.

This is experimental music at its very finest, and rarest: unashamedly cerebral, but also unrelenting in its dedication to powerful dynamics and--crucial point, this--melodic hooks.

The album often also throws song structures open to unexpected twists and diversions: more than half the tracks on The Neon Gate unfurl at their own sweet pace over six minutes or more. The results can be revelatory

Both albums [Quazarz: Born On A Gangsta Star and Quazarz vs. The Jealous Machines] deliver uneasy commentary on modern times, and the music that supports it is as equally challenging.

Her vocal dynamism translates particularly well in rock-leaning settings, where her leaping registers make their way through enthralling kicks and mean guitar riffs.

The fact that a band thirteen albums in to their career can still make music that scares their audience is one thing. But the most amazing thing about The Terror is that it sounds like they still have the capacity to scare themselves.

It’s still clear, though, that she has too many ideas not to be able to take them somewhere interesting once settled into a new life. File under ‘transitional’.

The best albums allow us to ruminate on life’s big questions, giving insight not only into the mind of the artist but reflecting the sentiments of the beholder, and Viet Cong does exactly that.

Where past ventures could tend to exude a mannered self-consciousness, Adams acquits himself here with an easy and infectious sincerity.

It’s an emotional record first and an ambient record second, and one that will resonate even with those who typically aren’t fans of the niche genre.

Hard Boiled Soft Boiled is an album of progress for Odonis Odonis, and while appearing to be a bit conceptual on the outside, it’s got one hell of a tasty centre.

Faulty Superheroes, simply put, is faultless.

Despite these downbeat descriptions, the beauty is evident from start to finish.

On The Sovereign Self, they combine to remarkable effect. This is not an easy record, but it needs to be heard. Again and again.

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.

Juniore’s cinematic yet understated psychedelia provides much-needed opportunity for escapism in these turbulent times, and allows us to dip our toes into a world where all that matters are happenin’ hooks and rad riffs.

Neither bad, nor excellent, this is an album which sounds like a promise.

72 Seasons is certainly a triumph. It's Metallica by the books, the experimentation and curiosity pushed aside for brutality and sheer force. How much of this you can handle is debatable, but therein lies the trick of 72 Seasons.

Throughout, there is a compelling sense of commitment and deep love towards the material and the concept from both the stage and the audience – but ultimately the undertaking is perhaps a bit too respectful to make Cat Power Sings Dylan truly come alive.

Although his impressions of Sinatra give an insight into the music of his formative years and remind of the beauty and genius of that era, they are unlikely to appeal very far beyond hardcore Dylan fans.

On Send A Prayer My Way they apply tasteful country renovations and marry humour, melancholy and joy with timely themes in a way that will only delight fans of either artist.

There are no 'sound-

Californian Soil is London Grammar in an act of gradual evolution, signs hinted at on their sophomore outing but blossoming to a greater extent here; retaining an ability to innovate within the parameters of their synonymously plush electronic soul.

Long-time fans--particularly of King of the Beach--will find plenty to like here, but it’s difficult not to feel that Williams, by now, has scraped the bottom of the pop barrel; his future, as No Life for Me suggested, looks brighter when his stylistic eye wanders elsewhere.

The result is an earthy, positive album that buzzes with authenticity and pride.

It's hard to analyze Segall's music without thinking about his reputation as a studio rat, but Emotional Mugger is an enjoyably warped deconstruction of buzzy guitar rock.

While not quite continuing with the bombast of its beginnings the The Savage Heart and Jim Jones Revue--a live band at best and perhaps one of the most visceral around--leave a lot to the imagination on this record which will certainly allow them to maintain the surprise and hype live.

Krai will never be for everyone, but then it was never intended as so; instead it gives forgotten stretches of Russian land a name for themselves, and in that regard this inventive and progressive release from an exceptionally talented young musician is a success.

It grows immediately after every listen. Its effects have some kind of exponential growth in your head, where you can find yourself humming melodies that appear once or twice in one track. His songwriting is that infectious.

Dream Nails are their best when their lyrics feel like an arm around your shoulder.

This is a band still keen to experiment – a flourishing ensemble ahead of the alternative music curve.

Creatures of the Late Afternoon is a significant evolution since his seminal work Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, showcasing an impressive restraint of oversaturating us with dizzying samples and flashy turntablism and instead focusing on letting the music speak for itself.

No matter how disorganised Olivia Dean proclaims this album to be, she doesn’t miss a beat – and instead generates a record with just about everything to deem itself ‘perfect’.

Oceanside Countryside provides a snapshot of Young in the middle of his 1970s winning streak, possibly the most creatively fertile run that any songwriter has ever had the good fortune to find themselves in.

This is a seductive and beguiling record.

The substance to his music however means Anthropocene is consistently listenable, and at times immensely enjoyable. Exploring one of the most dismal subjects we as a race can face, it’s nonetheless a joy.

Alicia offers its listeners with the ultimate microcosm of the singer’s discography thus far, re-positioning Keys as a force to be reckoned in today’s musical landscape.

For all its fury and fragmentation, Never Exhale is remarkably cohesive, a testament to DITZ’s ability to harness chaos into something purposeful.

Braindrops is as cerebral and gut-level as its name implies, high-minded and high volume, a grand mess that isn’t really a mess at all.

Royal Blood’s debut is an easily digestible, unfortunately thin-sounding, slightly disappointing rock record and an exciting, fresh, invigorating pop record both at the same time.

Pinkshinyultrablast isn’t so much offering something new to or pushing shoegaze anywhere it hasn’t already been. They are flat out transcending it, offering a sound all their own that is frighteningly powerful and overwhelmingly beautiful.

Ending the album with a couple of more easily accessible songs – closer “Price of a Man”, despite being groovier and addressing toxic masculinity, is also quite conventional by their standards – may be the band’s attempt to attract a wider audience. And they do deserve a wider audience. It’s just that you hope they can get it without having to lose the spark and spirit that makes Again such a thrilling ride.

Ö is a raw, natural celebration of that trust. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and it’s exactly what’s needed heading into summer.

It could be argued that you need to put in some effort yourself to fully enjoy music like this that demands activity from your brain, but with a catalyst like The Phoenix, all you need to do is listen and let your mind wander into a galaxy far, far away.

The last installment of the KICK cycle is much more tame, less experimental, less intricate than the three others. It’s almost hollow in comparison to its counterparts, paradoxically harder to make sense of than the more frantic entries released at the same time. Arca adds a new dimension to the mix with kiCK iiiii’s insistence on centering silence within the music.

Scalping’s world-creation on Void is engaging and welcoming while being both ecstatic and unnerving. What gives this record cohesion is its ability to freely blend sounds and be bold while maintaining its heart as a rhythmic electronic record that’s audibly bursting to be let loose on a live audience.

If you like this sort of thing, then you’ll like it; if you’re indifferent toward it, then you’ll easily move on unaffected; if this isn’t your bag, it still won’t be.

[This record] showcases a band capable of innovating, pushing themselves and experimenting eight albums deep to come up with an album more than worthy of praise.

On their dense, careworn new LP (their fifteenth studio effort), indie stalwarts/college rock heavyweights Yo La Tengo have shown that can still bring fresh ideas to the table, despite the album being fifteen tracks long, and it being over thirty years since their first album.

This demonstration of versatility provides a hint of what could happen if the yin and yang find a little peace. As it is, on Silver Tongue, their occasional struggle leaves us with a worthy album with definite highlights, but some unfulfilled potential.

At its best, Process is an album that makes a virtue of its own patterns of gray art-punk surfaces slashed with caterwauling bursts, like a roller coaster you’ve ridden enough times to feel the ups and downs in your muscle memory. In both cases, the thrill remains, adrenal peaks and false-calm valleys.

It’s Real displays the same exuberance and professionalism--not to be taken as a dirty word here, but as testament to the band’s seemingly effortless knack for arrangement and execution--as its predecessor but adds a handful of different moods and textures.

It might not be all we'd hoped for, and could certainly benefit from some variety, but there are just about enough standouts here to keep admirers interested.

Daniel shows potential for Real Estate to take their music to the next level and in a way, that’s both its biggest plus and greatest minus.

With nary a crack across the entire album, Bonar’s weaving of multiple indie rock subgenres--alt-country, dream pop, punk--is tight as it gets, yet she and her band consistently retain an air of restlessness across the album.

This is NIN revitalised with Reznor’s thirst for chaos truly quenched.

The sharp craft of Tension II confirms that this is Kylie Minogue’s world, we’re just fortunate enough to live in it.

DON'T TAP emphasises that, really, he’s simply multifaceted. We all have radically different sides to who we are, and Tyler’s committed to expressing as much of himself as possible, from the cliché to the novel, the ugly to the beautiful, the cold-blooded to the empathetic.

Ceremony is not going to be to everyone’s taste, but this doesn’t take away from the fact that it is a stunning piece of work, which--with the time and attention it deserves--proves to be a thoroughly rewarding listen.

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.

The Baby is an incredibly self-aware pop record that proves Samia’s not a baby anymore.

Harlem River sees Morby’s melancholic discomforts through a refreshingly soft lens.

Abstract philosophizing aside, Sweet Justice remains as immediately gratifying as the rest of her catalogue; its rapping is smoother, its hooks are catchier, and its instrumentals more fine-tuned and studied.

At its best, the album is all at once loud, ethereal, and haunting--as if being violently jolted awake from a lucid dream you can’t quite remember.

It’s not packed with bangers, and the vocal tracks are a let-down, but as a fresh statement from a band that has promised and delivered much in the past, it’s exciting to hear them go down this route.

Black Rivers are creating sombre yet euphoric, uplifting music that shows how to sound far out whilst still retaining the knack of writing beautifully cohesive songs.

Collectively, it’s certainly Moss’s strongest work to date - a thoughtful, mature album, which delivers plenty of food for thought and a range of sounds, emotions and lyrical quirks to keep most listeners happy.

A few of the less memorable cuts drift by without making much of an impact: adventurous arrangements in search of a substantial centre that would allow for a real connection to be made. That said, the blissfully floating, richly melodic closing suite “Alma_The Voyage” makes up for the occasional idling.

On a surface level, the melancholy strum of a slow acoustic guitar can come across as another translator for yet more sad songs, yet Atwell tenderly works on herself beneath its topline, where more complexities also lie, refusing to change for the acceptance of others on tracks such as the steadily-paced "Fan Favourite", even taking on crunchy guitars in "Release Myself" for a change in pace.

Tapestried by contributions from the likes of Rousay, Roy Montgomery, caroline’s Alex McKenzie and Squid’s Laurie Nankivell, Murphy’s debut is an uncanny and heroic game of hide and seek.

KicK iiii soundtracks the edges of her universe. So far out from the frenesis of KicK iii and ii, the fourth installment’s driving force is a “bloodlust for beauty” (“Whoresong”).

There isn’t a weak track on the album--just varying degrees of excellence.

Balloonerism is an emotive and plaintive testament to Miller’s lasting legacy and firmly establishes the profound impact he’s had on shaping rap.

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.

Carrier is a joy and we have an album that’s up there with the most moving and stirring records of 2013.