It’s a record that showcases professionalism and musicianship, a sonic rhizome of musical references and genealogies.

Guilt Mirror’s musical confusion overall is shattering, there are moments of violence, others of beautiful fragility, and it’s a great big mess of ideas all thrown against a wall until they’re smashed into tiny pieces... lucky wall.

Krell’s voice could never get tiresome, but the album seems unclear as to what it wants to be--too restless for heartbreak, too downbeat for the dancefloor, like a candle that’s trying to illuminate a club.

Where You’re Meant To Be conveys the coziness of the room without any tricks or much polish, just a balance among the performers and enough proximity to the audience to capture bits of individual voices here and there.

Awake isn’t without grip or feeling, it’s just deft, and I’ve got an awful lot of time for something that picks me up whilst being so easy to listen to and so hard to forget.

There’s nothing inherently bad about When You See Yourself, but it feels like you could merge it with any releases from their last decade of activity and construct an album that has some heart to it.

For all of its positives there is the leftover taste that this is an album that will please die-hard fans, but will ultimately leave those outside of that pondering if it was really needed.

Mac’s latest release is unremarkable in almost every way, it is powerfully inoffensive in its delivery, instrumentation and intent which makes it hard to engage with and harder still to enjoy.

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.

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.

As a confident debut, What I Breathe encapsulates exactly what Mall Grab wants us to feel. Weaving multiple genres together through dance and electronic, he shows us what he lives for and what’s pushing him forward.

Although at times Embracism feels like a meandering listen or musical stream of consciousness, Callinan’s songwriting skills have allowed him to find cohesion throughout its ten songs, a consistency that a less engaging personality certainly wouldn’t have struck upon.

The intensity may curtail towards the end, but the band more than make up for it with an album that has a core of bulldozer guitar lines and assaulting drums, all of which carry with them the promise of the best house party you’ve ever been to.

The variety of genres synthesised to generate this finished record show that they have absorbed life's lessons and reconstituted them to suit a unique outlook. The effect is a strangely familiar, yet singularly arranged thread of consciousness.

Adult is fun for a little while, but it’s hard to see it keeping listeners’ attention for long.

Morgan and Bridges compliment each other well on Cinderland.

Doused in the kind of mysticism that drenched the original psych scene, oblique lyrics about being the sun and a cascading approach to influences, Levitation still manages to retain a lot of the expansive wonder that so much modern psych has neglected.

A Walk With Love and Death re-frames the Melvins’ legacy with newfound aplomb. Whilst perhaps unlikely to win over anyone sitting on the fence up until now this is not merely their most impressively realised effort in many a moon, but also one of the most rewarding listens of the year thus far.

Over the course of the record, MØ finds her own identity again. And although Forever Neverland features Diplo, Charli XCX and Empress Of (two of which for whom she’s returning the favour), they never overshadow her; a refreshing angle considering she’s been the featured one for the past few years.

It’s a fine line to walk between variety and novelty. Metal Galaxy dances along this line in admittedly very fun way, but that fun is at the expense of true depth and soul.

For the majority of Woman, Justice are acting out their pop dreams through machinery. Where in the past they’ve allowed to let the equipment do the talking, here, they show that they too are human after all.

At times acutely annoyingly, far-out wackiness permeate much of the proceedings, rendering the album's less rewarding half as disposable as the band's frustratingly inconsequential recent self-indulgences ala messy guest star workout The Flaming Lips and Heady Fwends (2012).

Sometimes doing what comes naturally is as big a risk as attempting to do something outside of your comfort zone, and that gamble paid off this time for Tokyo Police Club.

It’s a mighty lunge forwards for the four-piece.

This is not a terrible record, just a bland and misguided one.

Where Domestica broke your heart, Vitriola only manages to get you half riled at the world around you. Kasher and co. continue to produce records that hit the nail on the head in terms of topic. This time, however, the hammer blows aren’t what they’ve been before.

It does feel harsh to pick holes in a record that’s already so visibly bruised by criticism; where credit’s due, the home stretch is much, much stronger.

Barbie the Album dashes headfirst for airy joy and low-key festivity, all hyperbolic and glittery when its primary focus should be on elucidating the film’s feminist thesis.

Songs like “Solar Power” redeem the album’s sluggishness, with a fun attitude over an upbeat track which would feel like the carefree joyous song on the album, if the rest of it wasn’t so up in the clouds. ... All the genius on Melodrama seems to have stayed there, leaving Solar Power high and dry without any flavour or journey to embark on.

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.

While Tres Cabrones churns with the urgency and fire of a much younger band, the collection ultimately reveals more about the group’s raw early years and the gnarled musical roots that got them here, than providing any hints as to where in the hell the Melvins might possibly be going in the future.

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.

There is promise, with the gorgeous choral addition in both “It Ain’t Wrong Loving You” and “Good Together” adding some much needed depth, but the new tracks don’t really show us a side of HONNE we haven’t seen before.

The listener is never really on terra firma when ambling through the elusive foothills of Range of Light, but every fluctuating composition and shift in mood makes for a refreshing experience spin after spin on a record that could so easily be entangled and mired in its own instrumental mastery.

Short and sweet at nine songs, a few struggle to stand alone.

It will of course satisfy long time fans, but those that have overlooked the band over the years would be wise to reunite with them for the battle ahead.

Back to Forever is a fully-realised pop album and grandiose to a fault. It’s got a fair share of cheesy moments, but they’re endearing.

Esoteric Warfare won’t be seen as Mayhem’s best album--there was never any chance of that. However, it’s as good as its predecessor, and every bit as vile and crushing as you’d expect.

The real flaw, if there is one, is that they might have strayed a little too far from their roots. The uninitiated, though, will see this as an intriguing electro-pop record, first and foremost.

Moments of personal darkness are threaded throughout Hard Love, but the clarity and strength that Showalter finds when he shrugs off the gloom gives the songs a restless optimism tempered with a belief that the sun will always come up no matter how long your night has been.

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.

The Other I is a confident collection of tunes decent enough to warrant keeping an eye on 2:54's future movements.

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.

Wallop is so confident in its ecclecticism, but it really impresses when the more simplistic, unpretentious urge to move hips and raise hands takes the fore. As always, an absolute pleasure to spend some time locked in with these brilliant oddballs.

Whilst Heartstrings is unlikely to break new ground in the way they have before, it’s a return to brooding form from a band many thought had rung out.

This record is a masterpiece of aural and visual pandemonium.

A work of striking, defiant abstraction that cements Braxton’s position as one of the most interesting composers of modern times, and one that’s more than worth careering off the road to.

In terms of coherence, it’s quite possibly their best LP since Imperial Wax Solvent.

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.

Picking standout moments is as difficult as finding instances where the record’s charm wears off--there’s not a stage where the latter ever happens, but such is Beach Fossils’ way of doing things there are never really any huge lifts in quality either.

In short, there’s a sad irony to the title of this album; as a body of work, it derives courage through its commitment to playing it safe.

It’s nice to hear the pair experimenting with their sound and trying to do something new, but it’s unfortunate that the quality of the song writing has seemed to suffer as a result.

Ultimately Harry Styles feels comfortable and readily worn-in.

Somewhere Else makes for an invaluable addition to any self-respecting pop-loving household.

Blur the Line is nothing like perfect, but it’s a record scored through with an impressively quick progression; not only have Those Darlins matured musically over the past couple of years, they’ve found something they’d sorely lacked to this point--bite.

Happily, the good outweighs the bad by quite a margin on Christmas Party.

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.

They’ve struck a perfect balance between pushing boundaries and making people dance.

The opener and closer are a real treat, and it's a shame that they weren't packaged together where they would have made a shorter but more satisfying whole.

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

By being both coherent and pleasingly unhinged, bEEdEEgEE more than fills the role of cosmic dance music vacated by Gang Gang Dance.

Bleachers would have felt more complete if their signature goofiness prominent in the upbeat production had seeped into more tracks. Despite some occasionally affecting lines, songwriting isn’t their forte; instrumentation is.

Days of the Bagnold Summer encapsulates the best of Belle and Sebastian whist simultaneously narrating the key themes of the film. The gentle approach of the album and the complementary nature of the band’s rerecording’s and the new tracks are hard to fault. Belle and Sebastian have truly found a beautiful sweet spot on Days of the Bagnold Summer between a film soundtrack and a signature sounding album.

Sometimes you can lose yourself, in the twists and turns, but ultimately, this is unashamedly fun music from two of the most interesting musicians around, and being brought along for the ride is a worthwhile experience.

Ggood voice is nothing without good songs, and Rateliff comes with plenty of ammunition on Falling Faster Than You Can Run.

The real moments of surprise come when the band strip things back and sound heavier than ever.

Straddling both shoegaze and post-punk is what makes Moaning both enthralling and frustrating, a hint to the cavernous thrill they're capable of though also threatening to oversaturate and lose themselves in their own dirge. Here's to hoping it doesn't end up enveloping them completely.

Hundred Acres’ environment can occasionally border on the too-cozy and tender, and, as has been the case on previous records, certain songs simply wind down more than they come to any conclusion. Still, Carey ably shepherds the whole sentimental journey.

Pinned isn’t a memorable record; it’s a cacophony of ideas that don’t pan out. While it has bursts of substance, they soon trail off, or are abandoned instantly.

This is a solo debut that’s been made with love, care, and plenty of ability, and although it has a tendency to veer too far into bleaker territory at times, there’s no denying its subtle magnetism. Nili Hadida’s found herself a new groove, and it makes a quiet yet engaging impression.

Girlfriend Material sees shimmer traded for increased complexity alongside a confident pop-punk presence – one that defines the album’s major strength alongside a sharply served side-eye view of society.

AQUΛRIA is an interesting, risky record, but too often it confirms the notion that Boots’ development in the booth lags behind his touch on the mixing console.

[Divine Ecstasy] is a sound--no matter how hard to quite pin down and vivisect--with which the music world has been familiar for going on a few years now, and very little groundbreaking--cloud breaking? sunshine breaks through clouds, right?--is going on here, although Cuts’ brand of amoeba production does have enough individuality to stand apart from its peers.

While these tracks aren’t necessarily bad by any definition, they certainly lack the charisma that M83 is known for.

Ash & Ice ultimately represents the contemporary tension of two talented artists finding their way back from the brink by leaning on each other as well as their music.

The artistry is unquestionable, but ultimately the indulgence of the album’s creation seems to have fogged Invention’s original vision.

It’s a soft reboot. It’s a new path to take. There’s the widest palette of any Okkervil River album, but it’s steady and doesn’t throw any needless curveballs.

Whatever the nuances of the arrangement, it is one that both sides would be wise to return to.

Communion is brimming with razor-sharp summer pop anthems that succeed in bringing a smile to your face time and time again.

Rateliff’s faced those feelings head-on and come out the other side with a meaningful album full of subtle beauty, and one that’s buoyed by the prevailing feeling of hope; hope that things will still be alright.

Motordrome is a multifaceted delight and an early contender for pop album of the year.

The moments of intrigue are too fleeting and the encompassing ‘feel’ of the LP lingers too long in flat territories, which is a shame, as there’s potential for her solo work to be spectacular indeed.

It’s dreamy without being a sonic sedative; vaguely psychedelic and hypnotic without zapping energy levels.

Lovingly co-produced with Paul (Mansun) Draper, Davies is on startling form throughout, layering spellbinding vocal harmonies and turning her hand to a long list of instruments with names few will even recognise.

Effluxion doesn’t ask questions, or make you want to ask questions, or answer any that you might have had. The only question you can ask of Effluxion is what the title means.

It stays true to the duo’s journey of experimental pop rock sounds, while finding energy in existentialism.

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

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.

It's an aesthetically immaculate, existential, emotionally intense experience. Listening to this album is an emotionally draining exercise--but believe me, it's worth it.

On the whole, Hotel Last Resort is nothing special in the band’s career, and doesn’t feel like it, either. It’s simply another solid effort from a group that has yet to put out a bad one.

The album is full of high-energy, highly-infectious dance numbers--in a way that demands frequently radio play, big-budget festival spots, distasteful Kesha collaborations, and another five year break between this and album #3.

Fourteen years have passed since they arose, and while so much has changed in the world, Art Brut are a welcome constant. Wham! Bang! Pow! Art Brut are back, and better than ever!

On her third, La Roux shows that she can write a melody like few others in the business today, but it’s hard to look past how similar each song really is.

The tone of the album is almost suffocating. Just as Cuco’s vocals submerge under the cloying, bolero sensibilities of “Far Away From Home” – as do we, with this all-encompassing misery.

If you like your summer pop to keep you on your toes then this is definitely for you. Otherwise this is an impressively ambitious if somewhat misguided debut from a band well worth keeping tabs on.

At just over an hour, Eucalyptus is a bit too sprawling, and could have probably been pruned comfortably in half. This may have made it a little bit more accessible and coherent, but given Avey Tare’s boundary pushing mindset, this probably would have missed the point.

The arrangements and execution have finely coalesced, but the anything-goes spirit that sparked Blitzen Trapper’s late ‘00s renaissance seems to have moved on. The wild mountain nation has been tamed.

Tellier’s Confection is an experimental anthology. It’s not entirely what you might expect, and there’s no doubt it won’t be to everyone’s taste.