Life Under The Gun is a flawed but enjoyable debut album.

Authenticity and honesty are the hallmarks here of a painful and unsettled rock record. It’s not hard to figure out why his own name was the ideal stage to sing from.

Drill Music in Zion is strong but weighed down by its heavy message and repetitive structure, ultimately highlighted by lengthy runtimes.

Though bleak on the surface, through Jonny, Pierce finds himself embracing the chaos of life, reclaiming his childhood years in a cathartic and self-soothing project that aptly marks fifteen years of The Drums.

At times the record’s pleasantness feels forced, part of a calculated game plan. But at its best, Out Among The Stars is a gentle reminder of how sweet the everyman missives of the Man In Black could be.

It rocks the boat a little too much, but by keeping their bearings, Pool Kids continue to lead from the front.

The record is described as Gibbons’ “most personal work to date”, dealing with experiences of grief, change, and hopelessness – and it makes for a very conceptually decisive project, with a distinctive vocabulary of motion and stasis, weight and lightness.

Her style is still niche, but Remember Us to Life is an important album for anyone invested in Spektor’s growth as a musician and, perhaps more importantly, a storyteller.

With shades of their influences Neil Young, Weyes Blood, and Sonic Youth — as well as the attitude of contemporary New York art-punks Bodega - Silverbacks’ Archive Material is a record that makes the best of a truly bizarre, banal, and jarring time.

Brandon Coleman's debut album is a funk-fuelled cacophony that some will adore, but its over-commitment to a narrow sound means that, unless you fall in love, you may find limited replay-ability in this album.

It’s the careful balance of lyrical self-awareness and indifference amidst post-punk guitar that keeps you on your toes.

Gartland’s songwriting remains occasionally obscure but is sweetened by the record’s focused storytelling.

There’s are threads of heritage strung through Emerald Valley, not just in the vintage ‘70s/’80s guitar pop pedigree of the riffs and rhythms (“One Flew East,” “Break Me” and “Last Chance County” all from the second half particularly stand out), but also in Tucker’s lyrics and delivery, which are earnest and earthy without curtailing her natural dynamic.

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.

To Love is to Live works best when Beth channels solemnity rather than bombast. The relentless bursts of energy that punctuate the record are often thrown as wild haymakers, yet it’s the cerebral moments before they land that deliver the most rewarding blows.

While edgy, honest and witty observations are made about youth culture, there is a tendency to sprinkle moments of easy listening jazz throughout the record, which is a bit of a downer in a non gothic sense. Still, the brutal honesty and candor are present and much appreciated, one of the few characteristics that truly identifies a Mountain Goats record.

It might not be a styling anyone was demanding for, but once it's in your focus, you won't find a band that do it better.

Who Am I? may be a sidestep on their journey to individuality — distancing themselves from comparisons to The 1975 by emulating Avril Lavigne isn’t exactly a foolproof plan — but for a band still early in their career, it’s another definite confirmation of their potential until they eventually carve out a niche of their own.

For the bigger part of Screen Violence, Chvrches keep things exciting while staying unapologetically themselves.

This isn’t synthpop à la Kavinsky, and there are no bangers here, or--if we're honest--much that will imprint itself upon you when you've played it through a few times.

On the album, the dark, haunting sound and intimate atmosphere of her early work and the muscular '80s inspired synth-pop of Remind Me Tomorrow sit side by side.

It's hard to analyze Segall's music without thinking about his reputation as a studio rat, but Emotional Mugger is an enjoyably warped deconstruction of buzzy guitar rock.

It deceptively makes you think there’s not much happening here but is in fact a highly complex thing that needs care and attention, only then do you realize we have been offered Rostron’s heart on a plate.

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.

My Sad Captains have got the words, the sound, and the craft, now if only they’d try a little harder to get everyone’s attention.

He’s at his best when tracks uncoil like little vignettes, leaving small clues that pile up towards the end.

It would have been great to hear the Fox and Millions show without the extra instruments to let the drummers truly shine. Nevertheless, their fury on the A side and their ability to tread the line between hypnotic and sleepy on the flip side creates a joyous, technically astute performance that rewards a patient listener.

There are certainly traces of the band's past traits, except this time they err more on the side of being endearing quirks than being the slightly off-putting extras they once were.