It’s this ability to take the familiar and present it in dramatically different forms, with the potential for rediscovery that this allows, which makes Hitchhiker--faults and all--a must-hear for Neil Young fans.

Protomartyr save their best for the final half of the album beginning with the buzz saw, fuzz chug of “The Hermit”, moving into the splashy moroseness of “Clandestine Time” and recent single “Why Does It Shake?”. But it is on “Ellen” when The Agent Intellect truly peaks.

Koze’s superb imagination makes him able to mesh genres and styles that in the normal world shouldn’t work, but this is Koze’s world and we are just living in it--for now at least.

In short, afraid may demand a bit more from the consumer, in terms of mindful listening, but variety and range (and intensity) are indeed present, even if more understatedly.

A work of breathtaking beauty capable of connecting us more deeply to our truest selves and to the world around us.

With so much powerful percussion on display, it takes a few listens before you finally settle down and appreciate the more intimate and painstakingly-beautiful arrangements that fall in between Stranger to Stranger’s colossal thunderclaps.

Ratboys have been a perennially underrated indie act for the best part of a decade, a steadily excellent band on the verge of proverbial explosion. With the hooks, heart, and heaviness packed into Singin’ To An Empty Chair’s 50 mins, their time could well be now.

It being one so vulnerable and exposing (including using his family for the artwork), stripping the skin down to the bone, is bold, beautiful, but most importantly, a reminder that an artist like Kendrick Lamar is once in a generation.

It may be a hard record to get a finger on, particularly compared to her last decade or so of releases, but I Inside The Old Year Dying, is another strong record in a discography already stacked with classics.

It builds dread with slight but sudden stabs, scrapes, and bubbling bass, and rarely gives you the pleasure of a cathartic release. It’s a long way from the funky chaos of “Houseplants”, and it’s all the more interesting for it.

Whilst Central Belters has plenty of great music on it, it’s a confused marathon of a listen. There are too many obscurities for the casual fans, too many hits for the dedicated.

Forget everything you thought you knew about St. Vincent, because this is Annie Clark 2.0, beamed in from an alternate reality, ready to blow your mind. Daddy’s home, and she’s sounding better than ever.

It can range from snarky and contemptuous to comforting and reassured, but every time you listen to The Overload you notice and feel something new.

What William Tyler does is reach back into the past with complete honesty, and by doing so he’s able to create new and exciting sounds from the social, political and geographical changes of a particular period.

One of Grant’s richest & most satisfying sounding albums thus far.

Their quality of music and precision is outstanding, and while referencing so many of our favourite artists from eras been and gone, they perform and compose in a new light with such integrity that makes them a step above the rest.

The more you listen, the more intricacies you notice. The more you listen, the more you realise just how defining this record will be for the future of Brockhampton.

Drive to Goldenhammer sees the quartet plant strong roots and demonstrates that their combination of talent, originality, and introspection has the potential to journey anywhere they wish.

Gigi's Recovery is an excellent record, and The Murder Capital have laid the first real claim to Album of the Year.

Through AMHAC, JPEGMAFIA has attempted to produce something so questionable, unique and conflicted in its elements, that on first glance, it’s uninviting and dissonant. This goes for the use of his close friends giving faux unfavourable comments about the record in the PR campaign too. Yet that friction he creates and the doubt at the front of your mind makes you concentrate more, breathe in every element and realise its undeniable quality.

This isn’t The National’s finest album--for my money, that’s still High Violet, or if I’m feeling fruity, Alligator--but there’s much to cherish on Sleep Well Beast.

The atmosphere is very light and airy, in sound if not in subject, which means it requires a few listens to dial in on the lyrics and find the extra levels of depth that are certainly available.

A truly enjoyable record, a durable collection of interesting and exciting pop music that is hopefully only the first of many to come from Christine and the Queens.

While vocally she proves to be a voice as unique as punk icons such as Kathleen Hanna, or Poly Styrene, her form on Comfort to Me has her, and her band hurtling towards being 21st Century punk icons with ease.

Geist pulls off the impressive feat of nodding openly towards vintage inspirations whilst also sounding resoundingly distinctive, simultaneously timelessly classic and very now, ethereal yet intense.

Hynde sounds like she’s never left her glory days, and to assume anything less would be a disservice. Her voice is rich with age, thick with wisdom, perfect for listlessly reminiscing about smoky hotel rooms and other rockstar cliches of “her prime”.

This is a damn heavy record, but with it, there's faith and optimism of equal measure.

Their extroversion is by no means a dead-end and does show ample potential, but analogous to stepping out into the light after a period of darkness, one must become accustomed to the surrounding brilliance. At the moment, The xx’s vision is mildly blurred with sunspots.