Innocence is saved by the urgent innovation that courses through its emphatic high points, with Pontiak once again proving that they are taking rock ‘n roll in a thrilling new direction while also giving a knowing nod to its unruly past.

Going the high fidelity route was definitely a risk this far into Woods’ existence, but the band never fully embraced the lo-fi label, and City Sun Eater proves that everything about them sounds just as strong with or without the fuzz.

Ultimately, United States of Horror is more than just a collection of songs. It’s exactly what Ho99o9 intended it to be: a blistering manifesto for a disenfranchised America.

It’s certainly one of his best, and like numerous tracks on the LP, it plays with a glossy melancholia; a dark edge to the lush, string augmented tracks can be found in the lyrics, in these tales of downtrodden souls in pursuit of an elusive salvation.

Savage Hills Ballroom is confounding: an album about new life and new directions loaded with references to death and dead ends; an album about disillusionment in the glossiest package Powers has ever produced.

It isn’t overly ambitious, but after more than two years without an official release it is still a treat to hear Pusha T, even if he stays largely in his cocaine comfort zone.

The group’s first LP since 2014’s Ghosts of Download plays brilliantly on their talent for blending genres and turning melancholy into melody. It’s a winningly astute addition to a catalogue too clever to be pinned down to a definitive style.

While it might lack the chaotic charm of Nights Out, or the lush, well-rounded sound of The English Riviera, it makes up for that by simply being fun.

No, the record doesn’t represent a quantum leap in progression between 2011 and today. Yes, it’s another lovely listen.

They’ve evolved in shocking ways, but still remain loyal to their m.o., and thickly smother everything in a shoegaze glaze; culminating in a record that’s smoother, smilier and more adventurous than their eponymous debut.

Imitations is another strong entry to the diverse repertoire of a singer who seems to be gaining an increasing grasp of his vast expressive potential with age.

Fine Line is a solid, playful pop album, but that matters less than its status as a source of uncomplicated comfort and affirmation. When everything feels hopeless, pop music feels frivolous, but there’s joy in frivolity, and deep meaning in joy.

It’s an unexpected but fitting swansong: like Brams’ presence in Stevens’ life and work, it is a gentle guide, and an encouragement to give our thoughts space.

In short, they’ve honed their craft and matured without eschewing their admirably innate pop sensibility.

Phantastic Ferniture is pumped with enough care-free energy and catchy pop hooks to brighten up the darkest of days.

As If, with its foot shuffling inducing melodies and rhythms, is an album that will delight both hardcore and casual fans, and will undoubtedly put a wide Cheshire cat style smile on anyone that comes into contact with it.

It doesn’t quite all come together here as a whole album, veering between low-key dreamy ambience and more up-tempo indie pop.

This is a record that moves and moves.

The eleven songs here are tidy and self-contained but not sealed. The possibilities for Black Marble continue to open.

A truly interesting album that is sure to maintain Rakei’s notoriety amongst artists and listeners.

Shattered is a deeply comfortable and comforting thirty minutes of expertly curated rock-and-soul.

Rave Tapes doesn’t quite reach the euphoric heights of Hardcore Will Never Die, but it is an elaborate and intelligent album from a group that isn’t interested in grabbing their listeners by the scruff of their collective neck anymore; instead, today’s Mogwai are purveyors of nuance and subtlety, and fine ones at that.

At times, Narkopop moves surprisingly fast and the senses struggle to absorb all the nuances of sound. Other moments are more traditional mesmerizing GAS offerings. Either way, it is a complex, beautiful and terrifying experience.

It becomes powerful when given proper care and attention.

It’s deeply personal, plaintive and emotional, and a very lovely thing.

Even if seems a touch outdated at points, though, there’s not likely to be another punk album this year that unleashes its ire with such precision--and it’s proof again, too, that Oberst remains a master of switching through the gears.

Clearer in vision and production than debut Shapeshifter, Crush Crusher is especially potent in the trios that start and end the album.

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.