It’s hard to think of a record with such an uncompromising, borderline claustrophobic dedication to toying with utter unadulterated yet vibrantly rhythmic racket since the distorted finger piano workouts of the first Konono No. 1 record, definite fellow subscribers to a rusted-out aesthetic, and perhaps not coincidentally also from Kinshasa, although BUTU admittedly lacks the variety and shade of its predecessor.

Where previously her voice could feel hampered by heavy instrumentation, Charm’s arrangements carve just enough space for it to flourish, allowing her words to speak for themselves behind refined, never overbearing, production.

The film’s problematic dryness and refusal to shed light on the all-around complexities of this toxic love are relayed here. Intentional or not, the 34-minute length is one of the project’s two saviours; any longer and tedium would be inevitable.

She has created an album so unquestionably true to her quirks and personality traits that fans are offered a true insight into her process and psyche. This openness means they will be invested for the long run. Substance over streaming.

Björk’s Utopia is as much about attempting to reach paradise as it is setting up camp there. On her longest album to date, she has given herself the space to embrace the natural world as well as continuing to reckon with her past.

Its significance, its profundity, its sheer exhilarating force will stay with you for far longer than just about anything else you’re likely to hear this year.

Anarchist Gospel is an assured melting pot of disparate influences and ideas that somehow coheres into a unified whole – and ultimately doesn’t really resemble anyone else.

A record that feels like one of 2017’s most exciting, fascinating and emotionally involving albums.

All in all, it is one of the most exceptionally realised albums to enter the world since her last release, and confirms that both as an artist and a role-model Monáe really ought to be celebrated as Electric Lady number one.

Playful yet profound, baffling but very beautiful, sticking with Panda Bear Meets The Grim Reaper until it reveals its full dizzying array of riches most certainly is [worthwhile].

Has God Seen My Shadow? seems similarly poised to wipe out Lanegan’s reputation as a perennial sideman: on this showing, he must count amongst the most compelling voices currently in circulation.

Their eponymous EP was pretty great--and are showing on Weird Little Birthday that that’s not all hot air.

All That Is Over is direct, furious, sometimes messy, but always alive.

Many bands would be overjoyed to have accomplished an album as solidly satisfying as this collection of offcuts. Where the vault-clearing exercise of Cutouts leaves The Smile is unclear, however.

Elegantly blurring the lines between post-rock, metal and post-classical once again, As The Moon Rests is a dramatic, urgent, poetic return to form for A.A. Williams.

Amidst the unexpected twists in its production, Webster still retains a strong narrative voice throughout, her intentions unfolding with each new line.

Wholly a spontaneous offering, entirely DIY in production, and made from the creative confines of whatever was available to the singer in self-isolation; Charli XCX has proved that music really can be made anywhere, with anything, during a period where the world is on pause, and still sounds like the future is hers to play with.

By having faith that his songwriting ability would stand up to being thrust into unchartered musical territory, he’s overseen the making of a tight album that has a cohesiveness that belies how open it is to new--and genuinely exciting--ideas.

Stonechild isn’t as much a revelation as it is an affirmation of the truth – a truth which the singer bears out across the album in fragments, inviting her listeners to construct a full picture for themselves.

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.

No one idea ever outstays its welcome and there’s no denying the passion behind Hynes’ work and the fascinating insights that come with these 17 tracks. It’s an album that feels haphazard but one that is luckily more hit than miss, and an album that ultimately needs to be experienced.

Singles is an effortless wonder. Each and every track runs its course avoiding any pitfalls.

Where does Mountainhead stand in their canon? Only prolonged exposure will tell, but one thing is beyond doubt; it’s the best concept album you will hear all year about a subjugated society literally digging a hole that takes them further away from those at the top of the heap.

The lens of amusement and sympathy through which Rhys views the turning world around him brings new life to the lineage he draws and draws from.

With Qualm, Hauff has further enhanced her reputation as a vital voice in contemporary dance music.

These are songs written for the sheer joy found in creating and sharing that still hold within them a much deeper core. ... Beautifully constructed, candid, and hopeful vignettes.

It’s bold approach, from a group of musicians clearly focused on soaking in a wide range of influences and offering their own distillation of the Tuareg sound. The apprentices aren’t fully ready to surpass their masters just yet, but they are intent on writing their own story.

Collapse isn’t accessible per se, but it is a release which perfectly reflects the finest elements of Richard James’ oeuvre. It is a record liberated from convention, unafraid of failure and confident in its depth.

The result is an incredibly reflective, contemplative body of word that shows a seldomly seen quietude to the quartet.

Blood Bunny is reassuring, and as a body of work is an example not just of someone going through this same turbulence, but flourishing regardless.

Treays has outdone himself by biding his time and doing what he always does – injecting his music with a slightly abstract but absolutely authentic sense of himself.

Even though there it no overarching message here beyond the powerful insistence on only living free, Segall has delivered a record with purpose that, above all else, recognises that freedom and love reign supreme.

It’s consistently propulsive, passionately performed, and paced with euphoric enthusiasm to the point where even its still moments are pushing themselves forward. No faith has to be placed on Holley’s songwriting ability like on previous releases, and no climax must be waited for; each track cedes itself into moment after moment like sifting grains.

A. A. Williams has allowed her listeners to exorcise difficult emotions on this record. She provides an aural tonic through her idiosyncratic, beautifully executed sounds.

The staggering amount of feelings spent and tales fabricated draws the listener into the story as much as it may pull them out of it.

Minor misstep aside this is a kaleidoscopic album, dazzling in it’s detail, impressive in it’s intricacies and, best of all, one drawn from so many disparate styles, forms and functions that you could spend months digging through the cultural and musical references to satisfy the kind of musical curiosity it sparks.

The Murder Capital’s first record is a despairingly indulgent listen, but a powerful beginning from a band that promise to bring the passion of emotion to a genre.

It’s at times a brutal listen, but hidden between the hard knocks is the sound of a charismatic young artist who knows he’s making a debut album to remember.

The angular flexes in style and wordplay tied together with Russell’s high wire deployment prove as duly consistent a formula as any of the standout entries in the duo’s crowded discography.

Where previously The Japanese House has sometimes found itself overwhelmed by production that is a little too misty, In The End It Always Does sounds like Bain stepping into the sun.

Guarded and beautifully measured, At Weddings has an absorbingly intimate quality.

Now in their third decade the song remains the same, but on The Waiting Room Tindersticks still sound so out of time that ironically their music feels neither dated nor futuristic, it just is.

Once the record's over, you'll feel like you’ve been dropped in a dark part of town after being left heartbroken--which is exactly what music like this should do.

Never before has one of her albums been so vulnerable and reserved. ... This album drips with drama, humor, and naturalness, making Warm Chris a sincere take on life.

Theft World spotlights them trusting themselves and their process – that whatever they’re doing will land as it’s supposed to land and reach the people it’s supposed to reach.

JAGUAR is another step forward for a career that’s been toiling and honing. Monét's moment won't be soon before long.

The album has excellent high points – tracks that showcase what brought RAYE to the forefront in the first place.

It has a versatile feel and can easily be used for both out of body meditations and out of world journeys.

Being given the chance to reappraise the original tracklist is a joy, too. As part of this new release, it’s a tremendous pleasure to re-hear the artistry in “White Horse”, the restraint and delicate pull of “Change”, and the heartbursting strength of power ballad “You’re Not Sorry”. ... The only downside to this new edition is that it will be virtually identical to the original to casual listeners.

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. ​

Deeply hypnotic, by turns soothing and unsettling tracks.

A record rich in sentiments of togetherness and compassion, it’s one that will make you want to throw your arms around those you love and tell them everything will be alright.

On album number two, instead of writing out a cheat sheet, they have created an enigma for you to unravel. One of dark beauty and twisting longing.

A more concentrated soundscape, and a couple omissions, What Happened To The Heart? could’ve been a remarkable stepping stone to a career high. Almost everything feels transitory and unduly explorative, as if trying to discover another niche to excel in.

An elephant in the room – the overproduction of his tracks. While they do not completely ruin the album, it neuters the vulnerability that is expressed. Otherwise, fans will be pleased to find that Keaton Henson reigns well as a solid singer-songwriter in today’s climate.

These new songs build on Sohn’s mechanical, rigid guitar-driven synthpop with stomping techno and bittersweet electronics, inducing a dreamy haze as the cyborg operates on a depleted charge.

Lanza's second album is brief, bright and sophisticated, and while it doesn't push any boundaries or cross borders/genres as much or as often as a fan might hope, it does deliver on the sonic and melodic promise of her debut and offer that chance of a wider audience that has been promised since her first appearance.

Leithauser and Rostam have clearly tapped into the long, illustrious history of the great American pop standard for inspiration on these dynamic new songs, offering up their own inventive twists on the art form to keep the expressive dialogue going for a whole new generation.

The record is an absolute trip: a movable feast pressed to 12 inches of microgroove.

While those individual songs are great, they generate the urge to listen to the whole record in its entirety which, in the end, may not be as healthy and carefree as the title and arrangements would have us believe.

Its confident coating signals the beginning of an exciting new path for Jay Som.

On Radical Romantics, Dreijer wears their heart on their sleeve and delivers their stories of love and lust with classic Fever Ray conviction.

While Prelude might feature thicker arrangements and traffic more in classic pathos, with Pyre, TLDP are as sublime and theatrical as ever.

Ultimately, at minimum, The Lookout treats us to exactly what we’d expect from Laura Veirs in well-crafted and thoughtful songs delivered with a warm and reassuring familiarity. Those listeners tuning in a little more keenly and willing to try these songs on time and again, though, will undeniably be rewarded with some of the finer fruits of one of the most dependable singer-songwriters working today.

Thresholder is a triumph of meticulously detailed composition and, at the same time, a masterpiece that seems to evolve, albeit in an unnaturally sepulchral soundworld of fragmentation, from the simplest of sources into a life-affirming wholeness.

This is the most diverse record put out under the Parquet Courts banner. ... It’s no enormous stretch to say that Savage is possibly the finest lyricist working in rock and roll today, and he’s certainly one of our most engaging vocalists.

An unforgiving album about an often unforgiving city.

For listeners who have a penchant for darker, glossier rock in the vein of Portishead, Jane Weaver or even Radiohead, this is an essential listen. For everyone else, it might prove to be an acquired taste, but one that lingers long after the dessert has been served.

Arkhon is filled to the brim with so many eclectic ideas that, with a different writer or vocalist, could end up too cluttered. Album opener “Lost” and the closer “Do That Anymore” are so wildly different, but instead of being confusing, you’re thankful to Danilova for somehow piecing the two together.

While it isn’t pretty, cute, comfortable or enlightening music, Field of Reeds is important, resonant, serious and very very clever.

If this sounds heavy then the album’s crowning achievement is that it often doesn’t feel that way, buoyed by percussive production from Black Milk, Gold Panda, Frank Leone and others, and Mike’s dark humour.

Certainly, there is first-rate academic-historical awareness at work (Davachi is a PhD Musicology candidate), but this fine album succeeds through its ability to convey something beyond any time-defined notions of delicate beauty.

As the concluding part of that elongated trilogy, Heartleap is the most magnificent and worthy of valedictions.

That Shadows In The Night is almost as convincing is a welcome reminder that for all his understandable plaudits as a poet and songwriter, the latter-day Dylan is primarily a protector and reviver of arcane American music traditions--and, above all, a genuine vocal stylist.

It’s a throwback to 90s aesthetics, but it’s equally a modern dance pop record, almost a reclamation moment like New Order’s late-career return to form, Music Complete. Saint Etienne similarly tap into everything they do best, but it’s by no means groundbreaking.

For All We Know is among the most impressive debut albums we’ve heard in 2016, and heralds the arrival of Nao as a unique and fascinating figure on the R&B landscape.

A modern classic, from a band who’ve made a career off the back of modern classics.

PACKS take the listener on an adventure of love, lust, pain, and dreams that’s beautifully melodic and instrumentally fascinating - it’s certainly one hell of a ride.

There is not a whiff of a cynical retread of old tricks during Raise the Roof, which manages the trick of coming across both sophisticatedly polished and winningly raw and in-the-moment.

We have 13 tracks to wander through and empathise with. Amber Bain has created a record of complete honesty, offering us a first-hand account of the highs and lows she has experienced whilst traversing modern relationships.

For an album which so clearly sells itself as a capital C concept Album, the narrative is indecipherable; each track dropping a handful of new character names, and the final song seems to give up on it completely. Tillman is a fantastic songwriter, and so some of the new material is gold regardless.

A further evolution and expansion of the templates honed on 2016's UK debut Wood/Metal/Plastic/Pattern/Rhythm/Rock, I Was Real features a rotating cost of eight guest musicians and tracks that are in no hurry to conclude.

Most disarming moments occur when things quieten down: the gently swirling, beautifully troubled “Turbulence”, for example, describes the daily grind and bustle with almost Nick Drake-ian grace and reticence. The closing "Devotee" occupies similar regions, with a propulsive, creaky organ coda that hints at what might be if Modern Nature got a bit looser next time around.

The album not only justifies its existence but also adds something vital to the band’s legacy. It’s messy, lean, sharp, and relentless. Not cleaned up. Just tuned up and turned loose.

Uninspired choice of featuring artist aside, the artistic breadth and depth of this project speaks to Reyez’s position as an emerging, formidable artist in her own right - someone who knows exactly what a good song, let alone a good R&B song, should sound like.

Sketchy is a bold album in so many ways but it’s also incredibly, comfortingly Tune-Yards: High energy, offbeat movements, looped vocals, powerful cries, incredible rhythms, a belief that fighting for what is right is the only option. It’s life affirming.

Fade is vintage Yo La Tengo, but somehow gorgeously grown-up, with moments which your head will tell you sound normal, as if you have heard them before, but which make the rest of you feel contemplative and still.

It’s a record of reflection, of trying to piece together just what exactly killed the relationship.

While their new LP isn’t a beaming success, Ascending a Mountain of Heavy Light is indeed a push for change within the metal community and with that simple act of newness, The Body and Full of Hell put their own personal stamp on things.

A powerful collection. And if Heavy Is The Head is one thing, it’s aware of its own worth.

Quirky yet profound, playful but often deeply moving, Light Verse is a record to savour in one sitting, its ten tracks comprising a seriously impressive whole that’s considerably more potent than the sum of its unfailingly impressive individual parts.

The Car flickers between solemn nostalgia but also having a blast – a journey which can be unsettling but fun and surprising in a way that you wouldn’t expect.

4:44 offers renewed hope for fans who, since Kingdom Come, have felt increasingly disenfranchised by Jay-Z’s loss of touch with his roots and apparent marginalisation of his rap career.

Deafheaven are the masters of tension and release, and this record reinstates that less is, in fact, more.

These songs are indubitably vigorous and youthful. Moreover, there’s also a fleck of Slowdive's nostalgia and urgency spattered on them, like the golden sky at sunset, whose warm-coloured canvas quickly loses its treasured vibrance to nightly darkness.

t's ultimately perhaps telling that the most compelling departures from set templates are more naturally aligned with the territory of Washington’s past triumphs.

Tight melodic fare is coupled with less conventional overtones, interlacing with each other in an alchemical fashion that proves both breezy and combustible; a hypnotic tension that continues to reward on repeated playback.

It achieves the toughest task for a soundtrack--to maintain interest independent of the images it was built to accompany and accentuate--with impressive ease.