32 Levels sees Clams Casino step up a level and make a hugely positive and lasting impression.

Startisha, as such, finds Juwan transcending genre without qualm, a path crossed by many, but delivered here with a precision and confessional centre that feels innate, organic and without lull.

Chopper doesn’t reinvent the wheel, nor does it steer into anything surprising or off kilter, but it definitely shows how nicely the wheel continues to spin.

SweetSexySavage is a powerfully optimistic record, and while it glances back to a pop/R&B heyday, Parrish has crafted something entirely of her own, refined by a canny approach to lyricism and unbridled intimacy.

In Hug Of Thunder, Broken Social Scene have managed to master the balance between spiky energy, tender melody and a singular knack for carving out a soaring chorus. Hug Of Thunder has undoubtedly been a long time coming, but it has unequivocally been worth the wait.

This is an often-beautiful, fully professional work from an artist that clearly knows the toys his listeners will allow him to play with outside of his own sandbox.

The Great Dismal, thankfully, is everything it promised to be – it sounds huge, and it sounds miserable.

While the band leads us down roads we have assuredly traveled before, that doesn’t make the sights and the sounds any less interesting or intoxicating this time around.

It’s a thought-out piece of work; a collection of collaborating and competing daubs of colour across a blank canvas; a flock of sounds moving together as one, for one simple reason alone: to bring you joy.

Blondes' third album sees them take several steps forward, delivering a piece that's often mesmeric and always distinctively theirs.

On A La Sala, Khruangbin prove their talent for making intricate instrumental music that is capable of casting an evocative spell, whilst also hinting at the potential downfalls of becoming locked inside the band’s mid-tempo comfort zone: more of the steadily intensifying drama of gently soaring first single “A Love International” would be welcome.

In other words, they haven’t lost a step as a band.

There’s heaps of incendiary six-stringers, throttling beats and barbed tongues; it’s a potent brew that they peddle, but one that suits them just fine.

That Seven Dials is always on the move, though, doesn’t hint at finality, more at the further possibility of great things to come. This, for any lover of the cracked ballad, the pop hit, the smart word or the perfectly chosen chord, is essential.

Removed from the expansive instrument-led sounds of previous records Ganglion Reef and Golem, 1000 Days immerses inwards. Strident stadium rock collides with characteristic psychedelia with a natural euphoria.

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

It doesn’t as a whole compete with its first offerings.

It’s still a difficult record to parse – Smith’s complex collaging lends itself to attentive admiration – but on this release, she wants you to hear the concept. She wants you to see what she can hear.

Electric English is not groundbreaking nor really anything that competes with the band’s back catalogue, but overall it’s a good listen that will happily satisfy OMD’s fans.

The album in it’s conventional format may be too limiting for Nisennenmondai here and therefore, this is not their greatest advert.

Mutual Benefit occasionally build to moments of wonderful melancholy, before coming back down and resetting their expectations. It’s a charming sense of reality, but ultimately the music drifts in the middle lane too much to be truly mesmerising.

Like other Matmos albums, it relies too heavily on the concept behind the album for merit. Plastic Anniversary is an impressive experiment with intriguing results; it's not, however, an album you'll likely find yourself revisiting time and time again.

Utterly forgettable.

No, the record doesn’t represent a quantum leap in progression between 2011 and today. Yes, it’s another lovely listen.

Any record containing tracks of this quality, as well as 24 others of a similarly high standard, is always worth releasing, whether or not it feels academically or artistically necessary.

Like the best of Amos’ work over the past 20 years, what makes Native Invader exceptional is its complexity: songs are laid out like puzzles, ready for the subjectivity of the listener, with no obvious interpretations.

The cleverly engineered structure makes you feel like you once again understand why the album is a thing of beauty. It makes sense. It flows. And Joakim just makes it look so easy…

Slowness is not as instantly catchy as Outfit’s previous releases, but this should not deter listening from beginning to end; on the contrary, the record demands it.

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.

This isn’t one of the standout tapes in Thug’s ever-expanding discography. But, as always, it signifies development, progression--most of it accessible on "Drippin’".

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.

The glitchy deconstructed club of her past oeuvre permeates the entirety of KiCK ii, particularly in “Tiro” and “Araña”. The former goes full throttle as pop sensibilities crash into a nightmarish broken down metallic reggaeton surcharge. “Araña”, while much more tame in volume, draws from the same well, contorting left and right in a dynamic play of touch-and-go that defies all expectations set by the tracklist leading up to it.

GRIP is stylish and moving, yet lacks a sense of provocation.

It’s densely packed but never oppressive and yet also feels uninquisitive enough not to delve too deeply or for too long.

Escapism running through its veins, right down to the gentle “woah-oh’s” or cascading drums, Imploding The Mirage works because it doesn’t try hard but still pulls all of those components we’ve come to know and love together.

Dyer and Sanchez’s synthesis of the familiar with the new, however, revels in a disparate identity that both challenges and lulls. While not to be crudely termed genre-defying, it would be difficult to argue that the idiosyncratic sound of Buke and Gase can be easily defined.

She gives you everything, expecting nothing in return, lavishing you with luxurious, gothic glamour and saturnine pleasure. A modern masterpiece.

Household Name re-establishes the pair’s vitality to this extent, avoiding a potential slump in extending the countercultural charge that cemented the appeal of their previous LP's.

Shriek is perhaps not what we expected from a Wye Oak record, but it’s blinding nonetheless, and, while destroying any preconceived notions of the band, lodges itself near the top--if not at the top--of their canon.

There’s no denying the technical ability and songcraft is there, and unpicking the layers is the most enjoyable part of listening, but it’s emotional tugging ultimately strikes as hollow, not through insincerity but in being too obfuscated or overbearing for me to really love these songs.

Illusion of Time can sound more like a proof-of-concept piece than a fully-fledged album. However, if you can reconcile yourself to this fact, there’s some truly outstanding ambience to be experienced here.

Quilt are a group well aware of their strengths but not willing to overplay them at the cost of their distinctive balance, and Plaza is stronger for it.

M:FANS is certainly a fair deal more interesting than yet another note-for-note trek down memory lane.

Whilst it is a pleasure to hear Tycho again with new ears, it's difficult to argue that what is being heard is anything new.

The album proves that Exploded View are at their best when they refuse to be constrained by reality, to listen to consensus or to obey, and instead, exist in the dazzling reverie of their collective dream.

Images Du Futur is exciting in a way that few albums manage to be, dangerous and compelling like a first cigarette or fumbled sexual encounter, and nothing here quite seems real.

The songs themselves don’t shine through the production.

Tracey Denim manages that difficult task, of creating an album that feels like a self-contained world without losing sight of songs that really work in and of themselves.

A total package of pop hooks, instrumental genius and gorgeous rhythms, Mulvey presents us with an intelligent record that demonstrates his passion for sounds outside of insular scenes.

A superb debut.

Unfortunately, there are too many missteps for this to feel like any kind of progress on their debut, even if the sentiment behind the tracks remain essential. Sløtface clearly still have much to say; they just need to work out a way of rediscovering their voice.

Much of the record takes the well-traveled Just Mustard path of slamming guitar pedals together until a mind-melding guitar sound summersaults out the other end. This process may as well be the Ted Lasso Way for shoegaze, but few others can boast the ear for melody and a measured control of the chaos like Lovecraftian, tortured Blondie.

Charlie Boyer & The Voyeurs have crafted a solid debut.

Overall, Banks has taken a step forward in her development as an artist, and you can hear this increase in maturity across each album. At times, her evolution is not as convincing as other artists on her level, though the quality of the songwriting here generally makes up for that.

Hardcore fans will likely find things to be affectionate about here, with Pollards knack for sweet melodies with a rough edge still just about shining through, but the safe production and tired performance means Earth Man Blues is ignorable for those outside of the '90s indie sphere.

From Talking Heads onward, Byrne’s songwriting style hasn’t been so much light and shade as light or shade, and the album sags a bit when he indulges in his more twee instincts.

The resulting project is weirdly disappointing; a bold creative decision ends up splitting the collaborators’ contributions down the middle, and BBNG bring surprisingly little vigour or experimentation to the table.

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.

Shamir settles into the familiarity of gleaming indie-pop arrangements and sweet starbursts of melody, all while hints of darkness bleed through the margins. While not a startling stylistic reinvention, the album does feel like a rewarding artistic waypoint from an exceedingly consistent singer and songwriter.

Her most polished record to date, in every sense of the word.

This is undoubtedly Pinegrove’s best record yet, and isn’t without its learnings for those that decide to spend some time with it. The band, and Hall, manage to retain their contemplative and overtly confessional style, and deliver something intensely moving and beautifully constructed.

There are a couple of songs on here – like the dull "Crosswind" – which play it too safe, but for Stapleton, a more succinct record is no bad thing because his talent is pretty direct in the first place. In short, as the country scene gets more crowded, Stapleton remains its finest voice.

It’s tempting to see it being one day considered an “essential listen”: compiling and collating the first half of the decade’s tastes, trends, aesthetics and politics into a cohesive and inoffensive whole.

Depression Cherry is a beautiful record about darker times being a point in a journey, not the final destination. It shows its creators have a level of wisdom beyond their years.

The fact that Pattern Is Movement defies genres is both its strength and its downfall.

The sheer variety of genres in this remix collection is just one indication of the breadth of influence that N.O.W has exerted over the past two decades.

As inspired as the band's sounding, it's the three cuts from Houck's solo show that really stun.

Taken as a whole though, Waxing Romantic is a warm, enjoyable listen; one that suggests Bretzer has a voice worth hearing and all of his own.

There are many highlights, to the point where it's evident this is just an exceptionally consistent record.

At 14 tracks long, Gate Of Grief is a long listen and, in truth, a lot of it sounds the same. But after a while those icy beats and warped vocals begin to sound more like a bony, deathlike finger tapping into our instinctive fears. If White Ring are hoping they can exorcise the past and begin a revived new chapter, this is a decent effort.

This is an album of bold, aggressive regeneration that does not fall short.

It's a deft endeavour in making an album that speaks to the most bombastic music of the past, and it's an enjoyable listen – just be wary of ear fatigue.

This shift further into sounds of the dancefloor obviously comes with no hands in the air hedonism, they stick firmly to their monochrome formula but by adding flourishes of colour to their sound they've made their best album yet.

Find The Sun is an unsurprisingly great album from a curiously underappreciated artist, and an unassuming one at that. Deradoorian and her collaborators have made an album that fits the times, without knowing just how pertinent it would be.

While Independence Day doesn’t shine in the same way as the more refined Money Can’t Buy Happiness (executively produced by accolade heavy Dave), it shows a Fredo even hungrier, relentless and refusing to loosen his ties to the street.

Its effort to not just be another rock record is what makes it dazzle. Love City is The Vaccines in their own world, chiselled by the sounds that have trademarked them.

A Fistful Of Peaches is a refreshingly honest offering from the indie rock scene, and Black Honey make for the perfect couriers.

The Good Witch is pleasant pop, a record that doesn’t feel like it’s trying too hard while still cutting with witty writing.

Sunburn is a delightful entanglement of love, introspection, and nostalgia, married together by slick guitar licks, preppy notes, and delightful beats that make for Fike’s most impressive project to date.

It may be shrouded in shadow, but Acts of Light is a hopeful record, rooted in intense feeling, nostalgia and desire to connect the past with the present. Woods’ talent for communicating these emotions commands a solemn and sublime respect.

While the record doesn’t necessarily uncover any new ground not previously telegraphed by its first half, letting the beat ride until the end of “Addict” will reveal a welcome surprise: you’ve been conned out of a half-hour.

The album both expands on the now expected lyrical themes (tackling corruption and injustice both generally and more specifically in the context of ever-messy Nigerian politics), and injects fresh energy, economy and verve into afrobeat’s typically unhurried, generously portioned polyrhythmic splendor.

On Hers, both the words and the music often make you stop in your tracks, raising a smile or prompting a gasp.

Their growth is obvious: the songwriting is more versatile and the dynamics more daring, the emotional range broader.

Enderness is a record you're guaranteed to want to return to again and again.

Strangers feels and sounds like a breakthrough album, a set of linked short stories set to music. Having built a head of steam with her previous six records, album number seven sounds like Nadler’s waiting game is at an end.

An album that is truly magical, Man Made is a stand-out debut. After giving everyone a bite of the fruit with previous releases “Downers” and “Hu Man”, this is the full showcase of her impeccable talent.

Mourn is clearly a band developing at a rapid pace while continuing to play with an ability, set of musical touchpoints and a belly full of fire that belies their youth.

This is the first New Order album for a long time that sounds like it could only have been made by them.

Fanfarlo may not be breaking new ground with this, but they’re building on their previous foundations nicely.

What’s most impressive about the Blind Spot EP is not only how deftly Lush have mined the sound that made them a real treasure in the first place, but that they’ve matured without sounding tired, cash-in or merely nostalgic.

The struggle and challenge presented here is worthy our attention if not for pleasure’s sake alone, but for the varied breadth of emotion that each mini soundtrack evokes.

A cohesive record, on Soberish Phair sounds polished, clean and equipped with a new arsenal of songs about breakups, addiction and small glimpses into her inner workings.

A muddled record that thrills and distresses, equally, in short bursts.

If it doesn’t quite hit the consistent highs of 2017’s Love What Survives, The Sunset Violent is a clear next step for Mount Kimbie. With limited features and a cohesive throughline, they’ve never felt so much of a unit, embarking on a trip together.

It’s a far more eccentric record than their first effort, stretching past the obvious influences that led to their pigeonholing as a shoegaze band, but loses a little of the unbroken, hypnotic atmosphere as a result.

New Moon is at times quite captivating and as rowdy as you need it to be, but its weaker moments consistently outshine its brighter ones, leaving the listener with an album half-full of both indelible sonic fury and equally forgettable missteps.

There is no chance of someone walking away from Eat, Pray, Thug similarly un-enlightened; the political suite, as mentioned above, is far too direct for that. What makes it unique, however, and uniquely Hima; to be specific, it's that it manages to be both obstinate and intelligent, outspoken but sly; one could not imagine anything but that rubber-and-sandpaper voice being as such.