Despite the changes in their compositional style, their growth, their pain and their heartbreak, First Aid Kit haven’t lost the key element that makes them so distinct.

At times, despite the fact that this is his 12th collection of compositions, it’s often as if Lazaretto is Jack White at his most vulnerable.

For a record that on first listen sounds so sparse, Await Barbarians is a trove of sentiment and intricacy.

The album was not created lightly, and by no means deserves to be skimmed, but there’s a diversity and thirst within this album that stands to keep Early Riser remembered for some time, and will no doubt lead McFerrin to achieve the same.

Much of the album largely lives and dies by how much The Fresh & Onlys can animate five-decades old materials.

Pop’s going through a renaissance of sorts lately, or more accurately, the chart-dominating pop is, and alongside the aforementioned, La Grange is leading the charge of the nu-pop brigade. Avoid at your peril; the record’s not for missing.

This is a seductive and beguiling record.

While they’ve certainly sharpened some of the edges since Little Moments and brought their newfound gloom-and-synth-addled style to a more formidable shape, Only Run still suffers a significant lack of the sheer vibrancy and enthusiasm that made their off-kilter beginnings so invigorating.

Although not a million miles away from what we’ve heard of Johns before, with Adams’ help this release has captured a moment in time between the two artists that speaks volumes.

Strange Friend is a cosmic krautrock gem, like TV On The Radio raised in the Highlands, bustling with excitement and teaming with a million different ideas, eager to spill them all onto the canvas regardless of the mess it will make. But what a gloriously colourful mess to behold.

It’s an album that displays great faith in the late 70s/early 80s nexus of bar rock, punk, and 50s nostalgia, meaning that its melodies, riffs, and aesthetic choices often charm (to a point), even as its narratives mystify.

Dalliance is a brief half an hour expression of energy, without too much angst. It will never be considered a highly innovative venture, but the five-piece do manage to include some interesting twists on an old formula.

It is an interesting experiment, but realistically most listeners will struggle to get past the first couple of tracks before reaching for their trusty copy of Houdini.

It is not all perfect. Here and there, Mould switches onto autopilot and ends up filling up dead space in songs with half-arsed, Foo Fighters-ish powerchord passages, and the less said about the awful AOR dud “Let the Beauty Be” the better, But these moments are few and far between, with the bulk of the album consisting of straightforward, accomplished rock songs with enough muscle to anchor their poppy choruses and prevent them from floating off into Green Day territory.

Scandinavian pop clearly plays an influence alongside contrasting splashes of psych-rock and raw, grungy punk, and the unique little fantasy worlds they create with it are a great form of escapism.

What they couldn’t manage in the past is having enough discipline to put their disparate influences together and make a consistent album. However, on Movements, those days are over.

Death Grips are at their best when they’re just being plain weird. Some of the attempts to fully reproduce various types of dance music fall a little flat – it’s a passable imitation, but the kind of people who like psytrance might not have much time for most of Government Plates.

Smith’ sugary falsetto comes across a tad one dimensional and inexpressive on his solo debut In The Lonely Hour.

Teleman have made a damn good start.

The whole record is coated in a dense echo-fug, and is completely and utterly one-dimensional. But that, to be quite frank, is the strength of Initiation.

From its intro--a carefully crafted hip-hop instrumental by legendary producer Alchemist that creates the tone so astutely, to it’s end--a track guested by both Ratking crew-member Wiki and King Krule, it’s hard not to get swept up in this record.

The pacing of the album is questionable, and silly lines like “we got motherfucking internet” and proclamations of Southern living do get old by the record’s end. But these are nitpicking complaints of an otherwise fine rock record straight from Alabama.

It’s the product of a band that’s clearly thinking on their feet, engaging with the conflicting styles of those around them and assimilating new behaviors without sacrificing their own, changing with the world around them to create something refreshingly distinct and beautifully engaging.

Are We There will make sure to conjure it up and hold you rapt as you trundle through it together.

Not all of it sounds like a string quartet pulling itself apart, or a piano chewing up its own keys. Polished, radio friendly pop hooks snag on the acute, serrated edges of Black Thought’s gloomy verses.

It’s impossible to consider this release outside of its original context. With no other albums to compare this to at the time, it sounded life affirming, with its promise of white lines, gin and tonics and taking us away.

Another reason to count Murphy among the best of ‘em is his ability to take a mood and encapsulate it so perfectly in the formal structure of dance track.

On this Deluxe Edition, remixes fill out the majority of the extra material.... Yet in a way, it points to the downside of the album, and the fact that sometimes the Compass Point All Stars can steer away from Jones’ dynamic connection between an audience and herself.

Ultimately, they bolster each other on Do It Again. For the two artists, it’s not groundbreaking--it is a nice dollop of sideways expansion, revealing new areas that neither can quite achieve separately.

His concerns are consistent and consistently bizarre, his delivery as unsettling as ever, the atmosphere he creates both bleak and battered--yet he’s still a man armed with tunes as well as wit, brilliance to match the bitterness; a new album that digs into the past, chokes it down and regurgitates it with a sly smile.

Zoetrope manages to ably explore both shades of contemporary electronic music; the house-tinged, ecstasy laden cracks of one school and the strokey beard experimentations of the other.

It’s not until Meteorites broadens its scope a little that it begins to offer up genuine highlights.

On In Conflict the Canadian composer has managed to translate that energy into his recordings ,making his music as invigorating as it is soothing, as exciting as it is impressive and as complex as it is accessible.

Butler has sculpted a complete, resolute collection of high-grade dance music.

Thirteen albums in, and the Brian Jonestown Massacre may have just delivered their most impressive album yet. Clear heads prevail.

Upside Down Mountain establishes the songwriter as a career-musician, one who probably won’t be forgotten for a while yet.

Friendly Bacteria is the sound of artist easing back into his chair refusing to play the fool to get people’s attention and, unfortunately, the majority of it just passes by like a breath of wind.

Rousing, downtempo pop to soothe a troubled soul.

Thumpers maintain a vertigo-high quality on Galore, and provide us with another option in the hotly-contested battle for ‘album of the summer’.

For existing fans this is a tonally varied addition to his substantial oeuvre, but the record will likely prove too oblique, even passé, for more virgin ears.

Hardly euphoric but with some real mastery in the guitar, not dissimilar to Body/Head, this is dark swell of analog experimentation will no doubt intrigue guitar geeks globally.

He’s produced his finest work to date.

Tempest is an epic talent, definitely, but this doesn’t quite nail it down.

While it might not appeal to name-checked acts Phil Collins (dead, apparently) or Sting (“Lose the fucking yoga”) those who seek solitude in the British weather, putting the world to rights in the local and who see the beauty in Motorway services and high-vis jackets will be thrilled with a collection that’s Blighty-themed, from a duo whose output is still beautiful.

Whilst lyrically, there’s a strong thread of longing and the past, musically, it’s constantly moving forwards, and after MatA’s somewhat leisurely start, it’s nice to see this promising progression.

It’s yet another release from one of Sweden’s many stunning exports that make us want more of their “less”.

On Wild Crush, Archie Bronson Outfit deliver a record which feels as organic and honest as all of their previous releases, but it has a little something extra about it.

Comebacks are often ego trips, but never quite as brazenly as this.

For better or worse, it always celebrates the thrill of what’s to come, capturing the frailty of a mind wrought with anticipation and bewilderment in the face of the unpredictable trials of a world away from home.

The surrounding album excels when it approaches that sort of cinematics, and falters when it all but requires whatever accompaniment you might bring to it--say a good book perhaps.

This might be a transient flash in the pan for some, but it’ll find a special, permanent home in the hearts of others.

This album was a joy to listen to, without a doubt.

For all its dense silliness, Music For Insomniacs really is quite a genuinely discomfiting experience.

Cool Planet sits perfectly in the balance of effortless craftsmanship and half-arsed laziness. Just where it should be.

There is no question that this is a work of devotion, even a work of love, but as a document of raw emotion, it is lacking, it feels overly considered.

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 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.

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

It’s light years ahead of anything Goodman turned out with Vivian Girls; she’ll never be the world’s most original songwriter, but the opportunity to let both her vocals and her guitar breathe is one that’s already paying dividends.

Days of Abandon, like everything before it in the Pains catalogue, will win precisely zero prizes for originality, but there’s a vivaciousness permeating every aspect of the record that breathes so much new life into its well-worn touchpoints. Indie pop at its most sparkling.

It might be the most accessible Swans album yet. The long stretches of abstract noise are draped over some surprisingly catchy hooks. A few moments might even qualify as singalong road trip anthems.

Toumani & Sidiki feels like an freshly unearthed artefact, steeped in the influence of centuries.

Seventy-five percent of the tracklisting consists of lovingly bastardised fan-favourite versions of demo tracks that have been online for up to eleven years.

Whereas the sound of Skying suffered at times due to a muggy recording, Luminous is given a full pop sheen, an approach that’s resulted in a much wider sound.

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.

Whelm is a Herculean debut.

It’s such an confrontational piece of work that you need to mentally prepare prior to the needle hitting the groove. Once it does though, you are dragged into Bo Ningen’s world, a place where the fusion of rhythm fighting against musical aggression has never sounded so thrilling.

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

This album does do something to placate their critics on this issue. Kind of.

UZU is an ambitious piece of work to say the least, and whilst some of the metallic textures and tones may seem somewhat unfashionable these days, the purpose behind this record couldn’t be more forward-thinking and determined.

Emmanuel and Malay spend so much time creating a sense of space that most of the music is consumed by the vacuum; floating with nowhere to resonate.

Different techniques are used throughout the album to create drama, allows a variety of emotive narratives to be explored.

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’s tempting to think of Brightly Painted One as a “grower” of an album, and much of that depends on where you stand on the music/lyrics side of things. The problem is, for all of its evident beauty, it’s difficult to get inside – frustratingly so.

The ambition is staggering and for Fatima Al Qadiri to have made Asiatisch both a coherent listen and a sensible comment on western perception it means we’ve not only got a talented musician on our hands but also an extremely wise cultural commentator.

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.

It’s good that Data Panik Etcetera knows exactly what it wants to do instead. Unfortunately, it does this with none of the edge, none of the drive, none of the sheer urgency that made them as great as they were in their prime.

Nikki Nack frantically succeeds on so many levels. Garbus ticks every box with aplomb and swagger, making a record that’s confrontational, boundary-bending, enigmatic, topical and sheer fun outside the usual channels.

As could be expected, Someday World has a flair for inventive interlocking compositions, but these are out of step thanks to its uneven pacing and are often palmed away by an enthusiasm for accelerated, busy instrumentation.

All things considered, Angel probably lacks the invention and imagination that it’d really require in order to be counted amongst the genuine candidates for the business end of the year’s ‘best-of’ lists; the sheer stylistic versatility that they’ve demonstrated, though, in swapping the claustrophobia of Crawling Up the Stairs for Angel’s wide-open spaces, should be enough to ensure that they’ll be there or there abouts.

By being unafraid to turn up the grit of the guitars and building the wall of sound above the foundations of their debut even higher, it manages to set a more recent benchmark for newer acts to reach, but is still similar to acts who have toyed with the genre before it’s more mainstream return.

Artificial Sweeteners doesn’t have a great deal of low-end to it, and struggles for genuine groove as a result.

The Faint have finally hit upon the idea of letting all of those varying sounds simply collapse in on one another, only to arrive at an album that sounds the most like them, even if we’ve never quite heard it before.

Just like her songwriting, her singing has developed and matured and with Slow Phaser Nicole Atkins has produced a record of much deeper confidence, one that will surely exist way beyond any of those physical losses she experienced at the hands of Hurricane Sandy. ​

Modern life might still be rubbish, but it is rarely shown to be so beguilingly beautiful.

Shrink Dust is still very much a CVG record, just one that you can cozy up with a little easier.

9 Dead Alive has strength, beauty and often a spirit of engagement with the tenebrous. At times, dialogues areunresolved, yet despite (because of?) this, there is vital music-making from two uncompromising artists.

May You Marry Rich is something all of its own; it has a sense of danger and a distorted outlook that is extremely alluring. It’s a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Man Forever harnesses the power of repetitive drumbeat-drills and the misdirection of some innocuous silence and droning vocals to create a sort of synesthesia, blurring the lines between each piece’s individual components with clarity as yet unheard within Man Forever’s canon.

Broken Twin may eventually necessitate more gusto and variation in tempo and dynamics should Romme want to further forge her plow forward. However, she intended for May to be a return to basics; with it, she has produced a compelling and painstakingly beautiful triumph of understatement.

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.

Dalle sounds as if she’s on autopilot for much of Diploid Love; she’s obviously got talent to spare, but she’ll need to provide herself with a sterner challenge than she has here if she’s to truly capitalise on it.

Despite the curveballs and their extended break from the biz, the band’s phasers remain set to festival-primed, punch-the-air anthemic bravado, a formula as solid today as it was in their early feted period.

Like all great works of art, Illmatic isn’t just about the story it tells; it provides us with a fully-fledged character study of the genius behind it.

All the components are there, Joey Santiago’s guitar work is still impressive, Lovering’s drumming is still vigorous, but the problem is Black Francis himself. The compelling songwriting that completed Pixies is no longer there.

Every track here is distinct and complex. The Way and Color is not an album designed to blend into the background noise of your day. It really demands your time. It demands to be listened to.

With Loom, Fear of Men have proven to be just as brilliantly complex as that natural wonder they so often invoke--deep, refreshing, mysterious, life-affirming.

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.