Belong would still be getting outright praise along with their slightly more subdued self-titled debut. Previous work aside, this is still an intricate, technically awe-inspiring LP with many narrow pathways to explore.

With buttery vocals and perfectly-paired suave jazz instrumentals, - Ugh, those feels again is slick in its depiction of enigmatic love. While it may not be breaking boundaries sonically, the album’s saving grace is Aalegra’s thoughtful lyricism in which she encapsulates fear, loss, heartbreak and self-growth with tenacity and an empathetic tone.

A darker, rougher beast than either of its predecessors, it’s a highly expansive piece of work.

where Neuroplasiticy brilliantly built on Cold Specks' debut and breathed life into every track, Fool’s Paradise excels at singular moments and seems to struggle for air and space overall.

It’s an exercise in flexibility, in collaboration and support of new, largely unknown talent. It speaks not of a stale money grab, but of a conscious desire to stretch and explore his talent, exploring outside of his comfort zone, and to make not just another Streets album.

This is an album both challenging and gorgeous-sounding. If occasionally over-ambitious, it is always attention-grabbing, and very often risk-taking in the most positive sense.

There is nothing better than hearing an artist reaching the apex of his power. Trentemøller arrives at that point with this album taking its rightful place amongst the best electronic albums released this year with comparative e

Not everything that he turns his hand to here comes off, but when it does, the results are characteristically spectacular, and do more than enough to preserve St Germain’s reputation as an electronic musician of rare complexity--one who’s made a trademark of pulling off convoluted ideas with crispness and flair.

It’s no Plastic Beach, but, by ditching the often hackneyed attempts to stay relevant that verged on self-parody and digging into their identity and other existential fears, Gorillaz have demonstrated that they still have the power to feel vital.

The phrase ‘modern psychedelia’ often feels like an oxymoron, but on Human Ceremony Sunflower Bean make perfect sense of it, rewardingly broadening their musical horizons in the process and as with the Nuggets compilations it’s as diverse as you like yet retains a marvellous cohesion at the same time.

["Listen Out"] like so many songs on Last Evenings On Earth, has a fidgety, loosely controlled nature that sees it stray off into almost freeform sections before winding itself back in again, but it’s precisely this inclination to push boundaries that makes Melt Yourself Down so appealing.

The poppier efforts here don’t quite puncture the atmosphere that the band have worked so hard to cultivate elsewhere, but they’re hardly necessary either.

There is certainly less filler here than on previous albums, but there are still points which feel a little dull or repetitious.

The chaos and contradiction is audible throughout the record, which flips between analog alt-rock and eclectic, genre-smashing experimentation. ... It's this duality that proves to be her biggest strength.

Whether Crow is tucking into the midtempo rock bohemia of “You Can’t Change the Weather,” or getting lost in the groovy R&B psychedelia of “Love Life,” she demonstrates that she is a musical everywoman, able to move from knowing convention to wider experimentation.

Nobody needs to know the details of Lipa’s real life to lend her songs weight, but there should still be something in her performance, delivery, songwriting or production that sets them apart from platitudes, from background noise.

At a dozen tracks long, with The Crux, Djo is proving himself as a multi-faceted artist, being equally talented as both a performer and songwriter.

What immediately clicks on his newest record here, is that he’s just cracked the code on how to write a great track, as one would hope over a decade in. Choruses catch, he has natural chemistry with every feature, and he changes his flow so much he almost has chemistry simply by himself.

La Di Da Di however limits the potential for “free-thinking” with a series of stagnant, self-conscious ideas and motifs. Unfortunately, Battles have not mastered the art of repetition on La Di Da Di.

Regions of Light and Sound of God is as succinct as he’s ever been on record, and while it doesn’t exactly live up to its grandiose title, it’s a fascinating musical backroad to find yourself stranded in.

Perpetual Surrender is an ambitious album that delivers on numerous levels, though it can sometimes sound a bit like a TV stuck on constant re-run. But just as that’s enjoyable in its own way, so are DIANA in theirs.

Her conceptual sounds don’t offer blatant, fist pumping anthems for movements like Occupy and Black Lives Matter, instead they seem to capture the still, quiet tension that echoes around that space between the battle lines and point to the psychological fear on both sides.

At the very least, it’s an admirable first step into something far more profound.

Jem is an auspicious debut, a worthy volley from a city whose popular music reputation has been built on genre splicing and boundary pushing that’s sat a bit quiet as of late.

Modest means and humble ends shape the character of No Fool Like An Old Fool.

Overall Resistance is Futile is an interesting nexus of the Manics’ twin ambitions towards populism and complexity--and an encouraging sign that they are still progressing after over 30 years.

Committed to a style and substance that simultaneously looks to the past and future, the five-piece soundtrack their role as esoteric prophets of doom with a sonic credo that proves genuinely idiosyncratic in the current climate – sharp, wit-filled and uninhibited stuff.

A bold record of resilience. You Know I’m Not Going Anywhere is, in essence, a rock record. But it is a rock record that asks for more, unafraid to scratch that little bit deeper.

His best, most vital album in a long time.

Overall, though, this is a satisfyingly substantial listen.

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.

TFCF marks yet another shift in sound for Liars, as Andrew battles with dense samples and new instrumentation to compensate for the loss of former members Aaron Hemphill and Julian Gross. Like some of their greatest records however, TFCF creates a metaphorical space for the listener to explore to excellent effect.

Good Riddance verges on greatness, an incredibly honest portrayal of guilt, doubt, and heartbreak.

Cults is a pop band--albeit a very distinctive one--and Static only works when the band delivers on the melodies that made its debut so compelling.

There is a refusal to rest on any laurels here, and as a result 12 is a record that can sit comfortable alongside their most beloved albums. Quite why their brand of effortlessly delivered power-pop hasn’t taken hold outside of Canada remains a mystery, but anyone with an ear for a catchy melody, a sing along chorus and a chiming guitar will find plenty to love here.

A still-formidable effort, but perhaps not the homecoming .Paak would have produced if he'd decided to go his own way.

June Gloom marks another confident step forward in the band’s quest to live up to their name in the indie-rock landscape.

While Providence is by no means a failure or throwaway LP, as a body of work, it doesn't quite keep you enthralled and, more than often, leaves you grimacing at the cacophony of, at times, irritating sound that's pummelling your eardrums.

There’s no inherently bad songwriting here, but most of it isn’t particularly interesting, either. This ultimately becomes the chief complaint here.

As this band is essentially a bunch of like-minded friends getting together, they clearly don’t have any worries about how this record is going to be received. Perhaps they’re resting on the laurels of legendary past projects, but this record neither breaks new ground nor successfully exploits the flow of an old formula.

Much like a Full English and a strong cup of tea, Luke Temple wipes away the hangover from what you might otherwise call pop’s misguided choices (including the bubble perm and Kylie-and-Jason collabs), leaving only the happy memories of dancing to ’80s classics like it’s 1999.

This is a great record. Talk Normal are clearly indebted to the foundations of post-punk and no wave, but crucially they never feel like a throwback.

Shulamith provides exactly what you want from a second Poliça album; it’s incredibly fresh and exciting, but still a reminder of what you loved so much the first time round.

Some will appreciate the record for the bursts of soul-infused pop, others will take time to grasp the tiny details and appreciate the deeper layers of Sing To The Moon.

The recipe for their success is straightforward, but they do manage to indulge in some more experimental desires by pushing Geronimo’s voice to the margins of the mix on tracks like the psychedelic “Bird’s Eye.”

This highly visual, lyrically-driven mode of storytelling might not appeal to Baths fans who appreciate the minimal vocals and delicate restraint of his earlier work. ... Romaplasm, however, is clearly an album made by an artist who has made the choice to create in a way that works for them, blending innovative electronica with the storytelling of a comic book artist to produce a truly innovative LP.

The Competition proves a multi-layered offering from the two-piece, juxtaposing viscerally relevant themes with modulating, often overpowering soundscapes. It's volatile, beguiling stuff, and utterly distinctive.

What with imitation being the greatest form of flattery, this must be one of the most flattering albums of all time. This is music by Devo fans, for Devo fans, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

Disco Volador feels like a journey into a world undiscovered, without ever feeling too alien.

They’re not ceasing their distinct punk-rap, but they’re offering a new portion of the spectrum. If you found it had to stomach their previous material, CLPPNG will provide you a rope, from which you can drag yourself into their miscreant lair. Fair warning: they may not let you leave.

Things are once again totally captivating, though not in a daze-y, dream-like way; rather because this album demands your attention through the sheer scale, sprawl and scope of it.

As an indicator of the kind of music the Wainwrights indulged in at home while they and their many and various offspring went on to charm and dazzle the musical world, this is an invaluable document. For those who simply want a dazzling, slow sunset of a folk record with the occasional lyrical bite--the same applies.

Doggerel finds the American alternative mainstays reinstating bittersweet peaks and ironic edge, the interplay of Black Francis and Paz Lenchantin’s quasi-mystical vocal patter joining songwriting that captures the four-piece’s creeping, jack-o-lantern-leering spirit.

As well as a wide range of emotions, various musical styles are visited and executed with the causal confidence becoming synonymous with her output.

Does the record deliver after all these years, then? Occasionally, but not satisfactorily when playing with the tempting what-ifs.

As well as some (comparatively speaking; nothing here is entirely unrewarding) misses, the instrumental cuts also provide the EP's highpoint in the form of the soaring, Can-inspired propulsive hypnotics of "Loop".

Sylvan Esso have always made albums that demand to be listened to at the expense of everything else in your record collection. Free Love is no exception. It’s the pair’s most cohesive body of work yet, and despite its more left-field moments, possibly their most accessible.

Joy’s fluttering vocals reflect the ancient feeling of the folk genre, but the soaring chorus balances that feeling with a modernity, paving way for the more pop-leaning aspects of the record.

It’s hard to find fault with an album that feels so consistently representative of the mind that bore it. Francis Trouble is certainly Hammond finding a version of himself that’s pushing toward the future while never losing sight of who he really is.

The album isn’t easy going: it’s hard to completely love a record as bleak as this.... but Henson has a poet’s way with words and an expressive voice that you’d never tire of listening to.

Mythologies is the sound of a band who've realised their previous limitations, improved on the sounds they're most comfortable with and invited us to listen to them discovering their ability to splatter the canvas with all kinds of beautiful mess.

Of course half the fun is in hearing how the band have transformed oh-so-familiar songs into something quite different, and transform them they truly have.

The album’s many incongruous textures are sensory experiences: formless and visceral and not always easy to connect to. People of the North produce collisions rather than compositions, and those of us unable to embrace the tumult likely won’t appreciate their music.

A celebration of lightness, of fun, and of growing, learning, healing, High Road confidently and comfortably reconciles the different sides of Kesha which previously felt separate.

Ephyra is an intelligent release, one that grows on its listeners far more than initial investigations would should suggest. Such things can be a double-edged sword however, and Ephyra is also a fractured record, the potential of which feels somewhat stymied by its own belligerence.

Fizzing with melodies, the dream-pop infused aura that emanates throughout is charming and vastly uncomplicated. Her vintage aesthetic sealing the deal.

Although Burch indulges herself in lovelorn lyrics for the entirety of the album, she manages to keep everything fresh and clean even when the tempo slows down.

On Fast Idol, Stewart once again offers a perfectly poignant distillation of danceable, downbeat synth music.

He’s woven a stunning debut which is as scattershot as it is coherent, and his homeland is certainly right to be heralding him as the next big thing.

Love-burnt and ambitious, Drake has produced something better than its predecessors, but without the fallback of crowd-pleasers, it is hard to see it standing the test of time.

Las Ruinas spotlights Rico navigating a broader emotional and stylistic range than she did on her debut, while also displaying finer attunement to the details of songcraft, production, and performance. And yet, one has the sense that Rico is still seeking to codify her brand, to claim a fertile balance between horror and pop, posture and vulnerability.

It’s pretty hard to deny that No Age make a damn good off-kilter rock record, and that’s a pretty good idea in itself.

Each song a little burst (nothing over 2:30), the rough ’n’ ready charm to Stay Alive is where it shines like a diamond plucked from the depths of blackened coal. It feels like Grace is in the room, life unfurling from her mind and straight into music.

The record is everything you’d expect from a PINS debut, with a little bit extra tacked on. Mostly, it’s a belligerent beast, boasting bravado and a torrent of guitar swarms.

It’s clear that they’re at their best when they’re drawing from the college rock/grunge well, and disappointing that they feel they have to include 36,000 different rock styles to be taken seriously.

Peggy Gou has always yielded her talents to the complete advantage of the listener. On I Hear You, she pays homage to these talents, laying a path that is singularly hers to embark on, one on which she carries the future of dance-music, and all of it’s fun.

Ehrlich’s resplendent falsetto is still at the centre of everything, but there’s a serious depth here in the writing that elevates the material above the group’s previous two albums.

A comeback, then, that proves the case for Peaches herself while underselling her music.

Tobacco has done a fine job of crafting tracks which are different enough so as to not all blend together.

Ultimately Mulvey’s record is once again intriguing, engaging and diverse. A record that is equally accessible and rewarding on multiple listens, the softer side of pop can take plenty more of Nick Mulvey's music.

“Kyoto” is one of the more effective here; stripped of the insistent indie-rock embellishments which made it a single, the rawness of Bridgers’ lyrics is exposed. ... Elsewhere, some versions are less illuminating. ... These songs are still some of the most charming and psychologically nuanced in indie rock’s recent memory.

Luckily, on a 19-track album, there are more gems than duds. Lovato is more willing to experiment than on previous releases, both through her music and her voice, which is more versatile than ever.

Murder is hellishly dark, terminally weird and subsequently very funny.

Giving The World Away spins the all too familiar tales of coming-of-age gradually and overcoming obstacles, and it does so with assertiveness. It’s an album unafraid to break new ground, but not without holding onto Hatchie’s familiar musical personality.

Whether it haunts you, puts you in a dreamlike state, or simply makes you hum along, Beach Music is an album which should be listened to without hesitation.

English Graffiti is a record full of ideas that has much to commend it, neither a triumphant or disastrous third album, just not a great one.

Sadly, what should have been a triumphant return ends up being as forgettable as the time of year of its release. It’s a middling album birthed in a middling, gloomy time of year without much joy to offer. Not even a proper chuckle.

That’s just what this album’s got. A heart. Mathmatical, mechanical parts that once evoked landscapes, snowscapes, a view frozen in time now evoke emotions and memories. Fleshy stuff, any mistakes made with a smile. It’s that searched for human touch, something no mere tin man could create.

It is a powerful and dark narrative that fits the explosive attitude of the Big Ups and makes this record relevant on so many different levels.

At their height, the tracks on Oxy Music are some of Cameron’s best, and his songwriting is often defter and more thoughtful than ever.

Surrender to the Fantasy is a timely reminder that Elisa Ambrogio and Peter Nolan are a truly talented pair of musicians, making some of the best noise-rock you’re likely to find in either the US or on these shores.

Breathing new life into a set of songs that could have otherwise been tragically forgotten.

Like every Interpol record, listening to Marauder is a draining experience for the right reasons. Their sound is designed to deflate, to alienate, to offer no resolution, to poke and prod at your most depressive tendencies.

Great Divide is a definite step up from the flab of Free, blowing out its cheeks impressively hard at first but it does run out of puff all too quickly.

Everywhere the listener turns on this album there is something else to be found, another subtle motif, another dab or colour. When combined with the inescapably affecting vocal and accomplished songwriting style of Spx, this creates a record that manages to reveal its treasures over multiple listens without ever sacrificing immediate appeal.

Coldplay are a band who explore. Be it the origins of their emotional landscape, or the shallow depths of the mainstream world or even the actual vibrancy; every effort has been made to create an audible spectacle. And gaze on as a band who've evolved into an unstoppable entity carry on their organic exploration.

Geography has much that appeals, not least that it’s one of those rare records that doesn’t fit neatly in to one genre. With it, Misch has cemented his place as one of the UK’s top independent producers of the moment, and looks set to only grow in confidence.

Each track is like a piece of the puzzle. You’re looking at the shapes in front of you thinking that they will never fit together; then somehow, given time, everything clicks into place. That satisfactory snap into place is what Little Dragon has been searching for. Their wait is now over.