While Deafheaven do their best to coalesce their efforts on OCHL, it’s the bigger moments that resonate most satisfyingly. It’s not perfect, but on this evidence, the Cali-based group are still one of today’s most stimulating metal bands.

Though it has been sixteen years since their last studio album, not much is technically new here except a further tendency towards the mellow and ongoing hopeless romanticism.

The great success of In The Same Room is that it achieves the admirable feat of making us feel intimately close to each performance.

With Transfixiation, they’ve provided a compelling rebuke to their detractors; once again, there’s no shortage of consideration behind the chaos.

There’s much on this sleek and self-confident debut to suggest that the young band are wholly capable of sculpting their own unique voice amongst all the others.

I Remember isn’t a masterpiece, but it’s an all round strong record where both Reid and Francis solidify their complimentary strengths.

On the whole, this is a wonderful album, and a suitable follow-up to Bliss Release.

It’s the haunting, beat-driven atmospherics that ultimately make the songs memorable (or not), and throughout this new record the textured dynamics of these songs pulse with a clean, modern inventiveness, while also echoing the moody tones of his best work.

While it does skew a bit more electronic, Every Now & Then maintains the psychedelic spontaneity of the group’s first record and adds in even more refined percussion.

Last Night... is an album that you can look to as a fitting memoriam of what made Wild Beasts truly great: fearlessness to be who they are, and do it all on their own terms. Even their retirement.

There’s nothing quite as personal as digging through someone’s record collection and God First feels almost exactly like that. From funk and soul to chilled out electronica, the entire spectrum of Steadman’s eclectic record collection has been mined here.

At a time when dance and electronic becomes increasingly homogenised by the mainstream, Mount Kimbie have released an album that still refuses to court the mundane.

The Veils are specialists in a songcraft where the traditional is aided by the current in order to explore new sonic realms. The album, which took nearly two years to take shape, is delicately spun rather than cobbled together, and makes for treasured listening.

Although more than half of the songs on Cellar Door also appear on Massey Hall, there are plenty of fresh-sounding goodies here for the casual listener, let alone the Young buff.

What he does well here, and has always done well, is to embody traditional music; its harmony, its lyrical themes, and at the same time imbue the music with a vitality that never feels forced or disrespectful of its roots.

The album captures a mixture of genres that come together to create a really vulnerable and organic sound. Kesha uses Rainbow to let her listeners into her struggles, thoughts and true personality, something missing from her previous releases.

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

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 all, Overyjoyed sees Half Japanese play it considerably safer than they used to, and there’s bundles of pop-rock glory to enjoy, but it’s still more than enough for loyal fans to breathe a sigh of relief.

24-7 Rock Shit might just be another slap in the face to those claiming the downfall of rock music. But less talking and more listening.

Fanfare deserves a round of applause for taking a fearsomely retro concept (album as a mega-budget, widescreen statement) and, rather than sinking waist-deep into pointless pastiche or a rehash of vintage mistakes, ending up with a piece of work that would have been remarkable had it been released during the era it emulates, and which sounds remarkably ‘now’ today.

An album that makes for pleasant easy listening, with frequent traces of genius.

Though the album isn’t an entreaty for mass acceptance, Tobacco’s music does sound increasingly comfortable in its stitched-up skin.

There are real signs of musical development on Sremmurd 2 that point to longevity for the duo.

If You’re Dreaming is quintessentially Anna Burch; a unique artist whose music bridges gaps between genres.

There’s plenty to suggest that she is still developing and searching for her true self, but there's more evidence that Flo is a captivating and striking new voice.

Outside the relative intensity of “City Dweller”, sample-heavy “Do My Thing” and “Pulse”, “Gently” and “Deep Breathing” provide musical sorbets between the action. It’s some of the softest production Saginaw’s put out before, and is a welcome break on the tightly-spun ep.

Even in busier moments, there is sufficient enough breathing room to catch each sound and instrument’s subtle exhalations.

Where Care lived up to its title with its balm-like electronics, The Anteroom is often a challenging listen. Its constantly adapting sonic landscapes are fitting for an urgent political and ecological moment: its song-like identifying features perpetually breaking down like a dying star, or planet, or human.

It’s is a fluid, cohesive album that flows seamlessly from one movement to the next--as its cover suggests, it’s a canoe ride without the possibility of capsizing.

From their start, Oh Wonder were putting out high quality tracks that were stylistically interesting and excellently produced. In some ways, it would be foolish of them to deviate from the formula that served them so well in the past. As a record, this is unsurprising by wholly satisfying nonetheless.

International is a sign of gradual progression for Lust For Youth; there’s occasional backward looks by Norrvide, but slowly and surely this music is stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

This isn’t The National’s finest album--for my money, that’s still High Violet, or if I’m feeling fruity, Alligator--but there’s much to cherish on Sleep Well Beast.

A fantastically delivered meld of indie, folk and emo, afford Born Again repeated listens and you’ll be rewarded.

She takes the woozy, sub-bass-soaked beats and splashes glittering melodics over the top, adding her own little sprinkle of icing sugar. Listening to Zdenka 2080 is a little like how it would feel to be floating through space: disorientating and fascinating, leaving you with a constant tingly feeling upon your skin as your drift ever closer to the sun.

For what is a hugely bold manoeuvre, he has carried it out with much aplomb.

With these two albums [All Mirrors and Whole New Mess] she’s proven the vast range of her songwriting, and that she could go just about anywhere with what she does next.

This is a very tight set, sympathetically produced and moving towards the mainstream.

It’s lucky for us that Joyland so often yields gems amongst the heavy strata of computerized monoliths.

It’s probably their most listenable, and that alone makes it highly recommended.

This isn’t mere dilettantism, and while it’s likely to net both acts new fans from the other side of the great genre divide, it holds up more than capably on its own terms.

It’s about words and emotions rather than big pop moments; this is a slow-burner, which though possesses grandiose moments of musical glory, revels in the detail.

For now Pure Comedy is another elongated and extensive example of Misty’s intense outlook on cliché, contradictory and conceived contemporary life. If misunderstood, it’s easy to believe that the signified still signifies the signifier, but call Pure Comedy boring at your peril.

Waterfall is massive and unyielding, and marks Evian Christ now as a producer who’s mastered both tactile and intricate beats.

As a whole, Compassion is very impressive. It’s a largely fat-free collection of club-ready Danish synth-pop.

The formula might not be a new one, and ultimately Seratones are unlikely to change the world, but they will make your day.

The Visitor excels in the kind of attention to detail and musical imagination that's eluded Young in recent years. If the backing of California quartet Promise of the Real (featuring Willie Nelson's songs Lukas and, when playing live, Micah) has brought to mind a cut-price Crazy Horse on their previous two collaborations with Young, the band are superbly versatile here.

It takes from every era of the duo and amalgamates it in such a way that you it never feels forced or out of place. While we may miss those cutting riffs, they do more than enough to satisfy our thirst.

Though it may seem ironic that for all the glitches, warps and pops of their earlier material, Mount Kimbie find themselves gravitating towards the simplest of beats, Love What Survives is a close examination of how rhythm can define and alter our perceptions of electronic music.

The decidedly straightforward "Curves & Swerves" and the haunting, string-backed "You Don’t Know Me" - are amongst the album’s best. These highlights point to Harvieu as a voice in English music which has been missed and is more than welcome back, and she sounds like someone intent on spinning a rare second chance into something that will stick.

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's not a perfect record and finds Gaga pulling in so many different directions, but these are songs tied together by a common feeling. There is so much warmth here, so much that's human, and a lot to love.

Somewhere in the combination of the album’s dramatic, heavy riffs and revealing lyrics, there’s a depth to the artistry that depicts both the political criticisms that sit at its crux, as well as the band’s trademark alt-rock sound.

Contradictions is certainly a step in the right direction and sees Paul on the rise once again. This album is a dark horse, a grower, and one that current fans and newcomers to his music will appreciate alike.

This is a soul record that sounds pristine and yet feels raw--whatever else might’ve happened in the last couple of years, Beal’s voice--both literally and creatively--has not been withered.

Whether you read the title as a refusal to die or a foolish attempt to cling on, it doesn’t matter; both are just as relevant, and Martha have gone some way to capturing as much of it as possible.

It’s a skew-wiff funk record you can’t dance to, something to get lost in while not immediate, stuffed with arrangements that have so much going on but you hardly notice once they’re set.

The Altar is BANKS at her most confident and most empowered; tough and willing to accept her imperfections without a care for who’s listening.

Overall, it can be said that Tea for the Tillerman² is a strong throwback that boomerangs and turns in on itself ; it’s not the perfect path to Yusuf / Cat Stevens music for new listeners, but it undeniably succeeds in touching nostalgic hearts.

It’ll doubtless polarise his core fanbase, but amongst those who recognised his capacity for following an exploratory bent as far back as “Setting Sun” in 1996, the response will be a pithy one--“about time”.

For if you don’t get distracted by the constant temptations of modern contrivances and social connectivity, and buy into these simple but striking songs that Lewis is selling on Electric Slave, then he’s got the cure for the modern ills and then some.

Individ is deeply nestled in The Dodos' shadow, gathering patterns of the past to construct their future without shying away from tried and true habits.

Ruins shows an added steel and stronger resolve, the sound of a band toughening up, but still retaining that initial spirit that made them so distinctive.

Her sonic advancement doesn’t smack you in the chops are much as it did on Interstellar, but there’s notable alterations and plenty of reasons to love it regardless.

Mercer is a poetic lyricist and his abstractedness continues on Heartworms. With all the extra bells and whistles on this record however, it takes extra attention to appreciate the details.

Twerps couch enough of a dark streak beneath their mostly sunny exterior to promise future explorations outside their current box.

Raw, thoughtful, and thought-provoking, Love & Peace teleports you to the dusty plains of America’s vast countryside where life seems a little simpler.

There’s a reason he's thought of as one of the pioneers of electronic music; he manages to create more than just simple sounds--instead, there’s an idea that the big picture is far bigger than you’d ever care to realise.

This is aural nutrition if ever there was such a thing.

Brickbat is not an indulgent “supergroup” affair or a rehash of former glories (what would a Lush-Moose-Elastica-Modern English mashup even sound like?), it’s a chance alignment of classic alt-rock pedigree, on and of its own time.

Innocence is saved by the urgent innovation that courses through its emphatic high points, with Pontiak once again proving that they are taking rock ‘n roll in a thrilling new direction while also giving a knowing nod to its unruly past.

Going the high fidelity route was definitely a risk this far into Woods’ existence, but the band never fully embraced the lo-fi label, and City Sun Eater proves that everything about them sounds just as strong with or without the fuzz.

Ultimately, United States of Horror is more than just a collection of songs. It’s exactly what Ho99o9 intended it to be: a blistering manifesto for a disenfranchised America.

It’s certainly one of his best, and like numerous tracks on the LP, it plays with a glossy melancholia; a dark edge to the lush, string augmented tracks can be found in the lyrics, in these tales of downtrodden souls in pursuit of an elusive salvation.

Savage Hills Ballroom is confounding: an album about new life and new directions loaded with references to death and dead ends; an album about disillusionment in the glossiest package Powers has ever produced.

It isn’t overly ambitious, but after more than two years without an official release it is still a treat to hear Pusha T, even if he stays largely in his cocaine comfort zone.

The group’s first LP since 2014’s Ghosts of Download plays brilliantly on their talent for blending genres and turning melancholy into melody. It’s a winningly astute addition to a catalogue too clever to be pinned down to a definitive style.

While it might lack the chaotic charm of Nights Out, or the lush, well-rounded sound of The English Riviera, it makes up for that by simply being fun.

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

They’ve evolved in shocking ways, but still remain loyal to their m.o., and thickly smother everything in a shoegaze glaze; culminating in a record that’s smoother, smilier and more adventurous than their eponymous debut.

Imitations is another strong entry to the diverse repertoire of a singer who seems to be gaining an increasing grasp of his vast expressive potential with age.

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.

It’s an unexpected but fitting swansong: like Brams’ presence in Stevens’ life and work, it is a gentle guide, and an encouragement to give our thoughts space.

In short, they’ve honed their craft and matured without eschewing their admirably innate pop sensibility.

Phantastic Ferniture is pumped with enough care-free energy and catchy pop hooks to brighten up the darkest of days.

As If, with its foot shuffling inducing melodies and rhythms, is an album that will delight both hardcore and casual fans, and will undoubtedly put a wide Cheshire cat style smile on anyone that comes into contact with it.

It doesn’t quite all come together here as a whole album, veering between low-key dreamy ambience and more up-tempo indie pop.

This is a record that moves and moves.

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

A truly interesting album that is sure to maintain Rakei’s notoriety amongst artists and listeners.

Shattered is a deeply comfortable and comforting thirty minutes of expertly curated rock-and-soul.

Rave Tapes doesn’t quite reach the euphoric heights of Hardcore Will Never Die, but it is an elaborate and intelligent album from a group that isn’t interested in grabbing their listeners by the scruff of their collective neck anymore; instead, today’s Mogwai are purveyors of nuance and subtlety, and fine ones at that.

At times, Narkopop moves surprisingly fast and the senses struggle to absorb all the nuances of sound. Other moments are more traditional mesmerizing GAS offerings. Either way, it is a complex, beautiful and terrifying experience.

It becomes powerful when given proper care and attention.

It’s deeply personal, plaintive and emotional, and a very lovely thing.

Even if seems a touch outdated at points, though, there’s not likely to be another punk album this year that unleashes its ire with such precision--and it’s proof again, too, that Oberst remains a master of switching through the gears.

Clearer in vision and production than debut Shapeshifter, Crush Crusher is especially potent in the trios that start and end the album.

As is so often the case with albums like Creation--records that find bands daring to tear up old moves and comfortable registers--the album only stalls when it lapses into familiarity.