Although the results skitter unpredictably over genre barriers, often within a single song, the results make total, positively charged, resistance-battering sense.

Lanterns on the Lake have drawn on harsh experience to produce a beautiful record that’s anything but superficial.

From the harp-tinged starter of “No Good”, far across the twinkling lights, broken hearts and epiphany, to thunderous claps of “…Again” A Muse holds itself aloft, floating dreamily on a sea of feeling.

Whereas the less compelling stretches of its predecessor found Wagner seemingly bewitched by the new gizmos at his disposal, favouring texture and tone over tunecraft, This is more readily recognisable as a collection of Lambchop balladry, albeit one decked out in technological finery.

It's the strange mix of disconnection, anxiety and gender trouble that makes this album a record made by Gen Y, for Gen Y.

The vast majority of Music In Exile features the sparse but richly nuanced sound of a supremely well-oiled band with one foot in ancient traditions and the other firmly in the here and now doing their intoxicating live thing in a room whilst a recorder's switched on.

The record is an amazing first stride for Amateur Best, one that’s both full of pop sensibilities and avant-garde experimenting.

This is a band that isn’t odd for odds sake. Every single crash, bleep, smack and ring (insert other onomatopoeias here) is carefully placed with love, care and attention. In short, it’s a fascinating debut from a band that want to the push the boundaries of what pop can be.

The album captures the band at their most independent, revelling in high-energy performances while embracing a broad eclecticism.

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.

All That Must Be is a record that frequently toys with this idea of transition; creating a constant balancing act between two forces fighting against each other. At some point someone has to give in, and this is the perfect soundtrack for letting go.

With We Were Made Prey, Joseph finds her technical and emotional stride. Her lyrics are impressionistic, if not abstract; channeled through her expressive voice via subtle melodic movements, however, they become accessible, taking on a mystical allure.

This follow-up to 2018’s Might As Well With My Soul, in some sense, serves to highlight the band’s underrated ability to deviate from well-worn norms.

The Soft Cavalry has the full-vision flow of an album like Deserter’s Songs, wherein each track has a unique character and story to tell. If the writing process behind these songs was hesitant and searching, the production that has brought them to fruition, helmed by Clarke’s fellow musician brother Michael, is striking and confident.

Ably assisted by his Coastguard players, subtly fleshing out his songs with pedal steel, brass, strings and piano, Distance might well be Dan Michaelson’s finest collection of songs to date.

For it's forty minute duration, Meat Wave's second record is one of the most engaging you're likely to find this year.

It may take a little longer to get in to, but it’s entirely possible that once you’re immersed in Wakin’ On A Pretty Daze, you might be happy never to surface.

Despite its love for the retro, it's still a modern and cutting edge work that feels essential for the scene right now. It's great to see a band from the back-ends of UK hardcore make a statement as gratifyingly massive as this one, that will hopefully grant them the audiences they deserve.

It's this juxtaposition between strong experimental instincts and ability to weld them seamlessly to a keen interest in (and talent for) engaging and accessible songwriting that makes Love In Constant Spectacle (and Weaver’s previous run of solo albums) such an unmissable treat.

They're far more adept at widening our eyes than most realise, with a vicious soundtrack to boot. This pair are one of the most exciting and forward-charging rock bands currently active.

While it might take a few listens to make sense of the album's seemingly muddled introduction, one thing is clear: by the end of this hour-long journey, Cudi has reached his destination.

Whilst there’s a great range of material to lose yourself in here, it can at some points feel a little like (Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality is composed of many different albums – switching swiftly as they do between ideas from song to song. Your mileage will vary, and the excited mixture of material did little to affect my enjoyment of the album, but it’s worth pointing out nonetheless.

It's an album of disco sadness, dry ice cut by lasers enabling glimpses of people dancing in with tears in their eyes. The reality doesn't actually sound like much fun, but within the context of Now I'm Ready, it manifests itself into arguably the best pop record of 2015.

Despite the uncertainty of what is to come, Patterns in Repeat is so assured in its sound. Marling is the captain of her own ship, off on another adventure with one more crew member on board.

Clocking in at sixty-two-minutes, Intruder finds Gary Numan undeterred in continuing to push at the buttons of a world increasingly devoted to its own demise.

Even the songs with more conventional structure feature an attention to detail and craftsmanship that is clearly rare.

Cerulean Salt managed the compelling trick of being so devoutly personal it felt universal. It's possible that in moving to obscure this personal element in her music, Crutchfield has found an even more profound way to make it clear that we're all on this Ivy Tripp together.

Enter The Slasher House is stylish, daring and captivating; spooky, but not scary.