They continue to test the waters, which in itself is admirable, however, the execution in reaching a pinnacle can get lost from time to time. I Have Fought shows the Body running roughshod and a band who will continue to push and who will never settle for less.

True North is another solid addition to a formidable canon.

Another One feels like some kind of sonic intermediary--showcasing the breezy, lo-fi approach that made 2 and Salad Days critical successes, while also offering a sample of what’s to come on future full-length releases.

It’s disappointing that there’s a few dull moments on Bluebird as they really do stand out against the stronger tracks.

While Esben may be the more established of the two bands here, the more critically massaged and beard-strokingly analysed, it’s Thought Forms that provide a sense of gameness, of openness and of actual fun that offers a welcome balance to Esben’s pummeling, near-savage emotional and musical beatings.

An electronically based album rich in its own distinctive character.

This incarnation of The Album Leaf asserts the resilience that has always held up their sentimental exterior.

Here, it’s clear Ainsworth understands the importance of experimentation, building something familiar yet otherworldly.

7 Nights is a strong R&B album, but it just doesn’t have the same impact of 7 Days. Each track seamlessly blends into the next, making it a listen that can easily pass you by if left to its own devices.

Although he may be the keystone that holds this record together, Russell seems more comfortable behind the boards, letting the talents of his collaborators take centre stage. His tight, percussive productions lay the perfect foundations for the all-star cast to take flight, filling in the gaps with trickling melodies and expertly picked samples.

When My Heart Felt Volcanic is a breezy, fun debut, but The Aces hardly stray from the road well-travelled. It’s a shame, considering they’re at their best when they push beyond the generic indie-rock song structure.

hile Stuffed & Ready shares the glossy sheen (thanks to Carlos de la Garza, who returns for a second go-round as producer) and excellent songwriting of its predecessor, 2017’s Apocalipstick, the former is darker and more insular both musically and lyrically.

It’s wildly unpredictable in a lot of ways. It will just veer, with no rhyme or reason, into territory you’d never think possible to be immortalised in recorded sound. If you were to step back, you might even think for a moment that it’s genius.

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.

While McRae’s previous outings may have been more complexly assembled, her new songs are more immediately accessible. Stylistically and in terms of production, many of the tracks on I Used to Think I Could Fly are markedly unconvoluted and easily recallable.

GOLDEN comes out guns blazing, full of personality, and as a result feels very front-loaded. Jung Kook’s desire to do his best work is obvious, but a little bit of pacing of the tracklist wouldn't have gone amiss, as energy levels (and featured artists) peter out all too quickly.

More than any record in their discography, People Who Aren’t There Anymore is as newly accessible as it is relishing in prior experience.

At an impressive bakers-dozen in length, Everything Still Worries Me is an impressive debut record from the rising pop-princess. Abbie Ozard is a sure-fire one to watch.

The messaging does feel appreciative yet it feels too familiar between its use of commonplace metaphors and lack of clear thematic thread.

Idle No More is inspiring on many levels, but mostly because it beckons us to dance passionately and live fully in the wake of ever present darkness.

Surprising, always engaging debut solo album.

Imbibing such personal performances with a universally relatable humanity is the greatest strength to a record that makes fragility sound pretty devastating.

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.

On his eighth solo studio album, More Rain, Ward once again taps into the familiar echoes of musical history, crafting a breezy, uptempo collection of tracks that show off his songwriting talents as well as his wide array of influences.

Talkie Talkie is a triumphant follow-up to their debut. It sparkles intensely has tonnes of shiny charisma and sustains its shape while trying new things in the second half.

The Soft Cavalry has the full-vision flow of an album like Deserter’s Songs, wherein each track has a unique character and story to tell. If the writing process behind these songs was hesitant and searching, the production that has brought them to fruition, helmed by Clarke’s fellow musician brother Michael, is striking and confident.

Doing what it says on the tin, My Soft Machine is powerfully subtle, and reasserts Parks’ ability to capture and alleviate negative emotions, while simultaneously furthering her exploration of the sound that put her on the map.

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

There is a feeling of higher power, an all encompassing truth or consciousness that pervades the album, and provides the thread to link their myriad sounds. Rather than an end, this feels like a reincarnation.

The tone and the simplicity and the subtle melancholy of these eighteen miniature pieces make EUSA the most charming Tiersen release in some time.

Femejism may not have quite the same impact [as their debut Sistronix], but their second album has enough to it to suggest that Lindsey Troy and Julie Edwards will be able to maintain interest our vested interest.

Though there is some tightening up to be done, and a feeling that Murray has some more grand moments like “Misread” waiting, Morningside is a wonderful half hour spent in her company.

It’s a journey through their journey, and of influences and styles we’ve all known and loved. But it has all the joy of something completely new, pulled together at the seams lovingly and beautifully into a patchwork that, at first, may feel like clash or confusion but in time feels full of strength.

So, it seems that band that once loved us all like madmen have mellowed and become more self-assured with age. But they've definitely not lost their spark.

In five tracks and just over 20 minutes, Not The Actual Events manages to build on Nine Inch Nails' past while stepping resolutely into their future. And after 28 years, we’re still excited to see what comes next.

This isn’t a terrible album, but it’s not much more than a re-run of what Pelican have been doing for a decade before.

This is yet another different side we’re seeing, but it’s no less special.

One of the best albums of the year so far.

All in all, Imaginary Man is a bit like an early afternoon festival set: a perfectly pleasant, though ultimately forgettable, prelude to something better best enjoyed while lubricating for the headliners with beer.

House in the Tall Grass is a sonically pure endeavor, but its beauty does not withstand scrutiny. Though it aspires to soundtrack, music by which to have interesting experiences, it amounts to mere mood music; ambience and suggestions of potential, but little else.

6LACK isn't doing anything new. But he is doing it better than everyone else. With East Atlanta Love Letter, the artist has trumped his opponents and influences with a fragile grace and solid talent for songwriting, echoing that of our most decorated balladeers.

Modulating between grandiosity and relative constraint helps to root the band’s sound in an eerily-wrought hinterland; a template that deters the fabled afflictions of second album syndrome, securing itself as a credible successor to their spry breakout debut.

Hauntingly atmospheric and staggering in its scope, it’s well worth spending an hour of your time with. Though perhaps not one to put on at a party.

The record isn’t a patch on his very best stuff, but compare Original Pirate Material to the work of the vast majority of artists and they’ll come up short. For every eye rolling moment, there are more than enough to make you glad The Streets are back.

Space is primarily given to the meditative on The Joy Formidable’s fifth album, a dynamic achieved without sacrificing the blisteringly euphoric appeal that has ensured their longevity.

Bleeding between the nebulous and formulaic, King's Mouth simultaneously presents the band at their most obscure and lucid; opposing absolutes that are wrought with the band’s ineffable style. This incongruity does not, however, dent the album’s stronger moments, which can be considered the Lips’ finest material in several years.

By harnessing their roots that made their debut LP, We Are NOTS, so celebrated, 3 finds the group adhering to a similar framework with its ten tracks. Nots underpin their hook-driven racket with themes of decaying existence and what it means to reemerge on the other side, liberated and ready for a fight.

By taking dubstep’s ideas and expanding them, one of the icons of that half-beloved, half-derided era has made a kind of a time capsule; granting longevity to an era of music which had liberation at its heart.

A successful experiment, a great record in its own right, and (hopefully) a great primer for a subtly evolved next effort.

It would appear that the desire to remain in stasis has left it to stagnate somewhat, which is a shame, as Kompakt remains one of the most invigorating labels in electronic music.

The more reflective moments on the album are some of the best.

If you're expecting a record which really takes off, Patience probably isn't it, but its downtempo, late night charms aren't hard to find (especially if you chuck it on headphones).

Sumac are an original voice in metal, and we certainly need more of that. However, as they currently stand, they're merely good. Really, the only thing stopping them from greatness is a lack of self-editing.

Crybaby is ironically more memorably catchy than some of their more obvious tilts at commerciality. Conversely that strength is also its slight flaw: the energy is so high on certain tracks that any slow to mid-tempo songs can naturally feel like lulls when actually they provide necessary variation.

It’s a different sound on Warpaint, that’s for sure, and though it’s friskier and more malevolent in nature--possibly even more damaged and/or emotionally ruptured--they’re far more open. There’s an accessibility, an empathy for kindred feelings.

Whether it’s dark and driving or elegant and echoing, Vultures is at all points capable of igniting a spark in your gut that’ll burn until there’s nothing left.

It’s not perfect--there are moments, such as during "Old Again", where my concentration has wavered--but when it hits the spot ("Big Bopper", "Guilt", "Acid Tongue"), it’s an absolute tour-de-force.

In Moon Saloon, Arc Iris have served us an album entirely unconcerned with nascent fads and just as heavy on challenge as it is reward.

It’s a natural-sounding progression that confounds the expected developments ‘a guitar band’ should make and instead adds a glorious musical technicolour to a set of songs to soundtrack the summer and beyond.

The essence of these songs is exactly what the essence of The Divine Comedy has always been. Expanded, with more intricately woven textures, Foreverland is an ode to everything that lasts: from historical characters to our own enduring emotions, the record celebrates the importance of importance on every level.

They find even more to dig up and use as coal for their runaway train. Imagine a rollercoaster that immediately starts on a death-defying drop, that you’re white-knuckling through with a chorus of cackles and joy, which swiftly takes you on a psychedelic mosey through a twisted fairytale tunnel - and that’s just the first three songs.

Flowing effortlessly between melodious vocals and blistering guitars, between reflecting on past feelings and accepting new eventualities, the majority of the album feels weightless.

Throughout the album, Broderick conveys the sense that he has a confidence in his songs to the extent that a hitherto unknown (to him) band can bring out their quality. It’s a risk, of course, but the rewards are at times startling

As good as Modern Dancing is, it just doesn’t quite encapsulate the complete experience of TRAAMS.

Pennied Days is an album anyone who has ever been in love with rock music should listen to, and it has the kind of universal appeal that should mean big things for Night Moves down the road.

There’s an exuberance to the entire record that feels genuine and fresh, like it was captured unexpectedly.

Day Of The Dead certainly makes a compelling case in favour of the Grateful Dead's merits as musicians and songwriters as opposed to uncommonly successful marketers of an alternative lifestyle.

This is everything a punk record should be; abrasive, aggressive, occasionally a little gauche, but with an emotional core that’s unmistakeable, and that elevates Surfing Strange from a enjoyable album to a genuinely gripping one.

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.

A reprise of the title track with added orchestration and extended strings only serves as a reminder of how lushly the album began and highlights what’s been missing in the latter half. Kahn as the producer can appear less critical than the songwriter and while the whole album possesses an innate beauty some material is very spartan and has you craving more actual songs.

This record comes four years after Sheezus, and the time and space Lily has taken out has created a masterpiece. Ballads stand side by side with dance beats; rappers, dancehall and afrobeat singers feature alongside production from Mark Ronson, Ezra Koenig and Fryars--yet it all comes together into a smooth and succinct tale of finding your identity after a crisis.

Though not quite as compositionally adventurous as Shields, these demos and bonus tracks are equally emotionally resonant--it’s an insight into what Shields could have been--and what we might have to look forward to in the future.

It all results in their strongest album for over two decades.

It’s curious to hear Chris Clark join the ranks of underground British artists drawing inspiration from the essential weirdness of Northern European folk music, yet by the end of Kiri Variations, it feels like a masterstroke.

Singing shines brightest when Margaret's voices are in harmony.

It’s not all as instantly catchy as its opening track, but you can bet it’s a grower, post-break-up or not.

Musically there’s much to tie Rustie to his Scottish compatriot Hudson Mohawke, and though they may be working from the same spreadsheet, at the moment Rustie still remains in is shadow.

They have always effortlessly switched registers, blurred genre boundaries and smattered their lyrics with eclectic cultural references. Citizen Zombie does all of these things, without loosing its political edge.

This is a snapshot of a band that has conquered mountains and achieved grand things while proving you can still find those edges at the peak that go a little higher.

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.

There is a feeling that at times the record dips into repetition, particularly around the mid-point, though there’s no doubting that Omni’s intricate and deadpan approach is worth a visit for even the most casual of bystanders.

This record is a lot of fun and show great song writing promise.

There still feels like the same ratio of hit and miss that you might find in a twenty track White release. But when there's half as many tracks at twice an instrumental's length, it means those tracks you don't get on with rather overstay their welcome.

It’s music from an imagined film, not an imaginary film in music; and although laudably ambitious, it goes down as an opportunity missed.

Williamson truly soars when her moving vocals combine with the vivid imagery that is painted through the lyrics.

If you're looking for choice picks that suit your current standing (single / taken / stuck in lockdown lusting) then you'll find what you need - a relatable nature is served up on a silver platter - but a greater understanding of anything other than the above shall not be found.

With Five Dice, All Threes, Bright Eyes prove they can still evoke both intimacy and grandiosity without sacrificing the imperfect edges that made their early work so compelling.

Ultimately, Everyone Says Hi is the sound of a multi-platinum songwriter with a fresh fire under him – someone who has turned the page yet can’t help but pack these tunes with the kind of melodic heft that lands them squarely on your repeat playlist.

Most importantly, at the turn of the arc Tatum rediscovers his grit and tenacity as well as his melodic poise, showing that Life of Pause isn’t just a fascinating dissection of romantic disintegration, it was also necessary.

It’s sludge but impeccably clean; and it’s all frighteningly good.

It's all a bit too safe. Nothing feels unexpected. Nothing feels like a step forward. Everything Else Has Gone Wrong is lodged sonically somewhere between the sound of the last two albums, but lacking the freshness both possessed at the time.

KiCk I is a consistently enjoyable, so the fact it still feels like something of an anti-climax is testament only to Arca’s history of braveness and originality.

The powerful fusion of the electronic and the classical crucially allows the brothers to lightly grasp the hands of their listener, and guide them through dreamscapes of cosmic beauty, searing light and haunting darkness.

Banks has a universal appeal that’ll see her soar to the tops of charts, into high-profile festival spots, and slide into awards season like she’s covered in butter.

The album does well as a high-octane rock record, so much so it makes you wonder why some tracks feel ever so slightly diluted.

Sometimes weighty and serious, sometimes dissolute and light, Grimes’ interaction with the piano on The Clearing is the sound of a musician who knows how to extract every emotion and feeling from what they are playing.

The group still manages to fluidly blend southern-fried garage rock, soul, psychedelia, and funk on their sixth studio effort, showing no ill effects from the recent shakeup to their tight-knit core.

Always Strive and Prosper is arena rap in jet-set dance-pop drag, and while A$AP Ferg’s talent occasionally flickers when it’s directed in the wrong places, it shines brightest when he’s just being himself.