Wooden Head is a more than agreeable rethink of late sixties rock.

A brutal yet glorious release that doubles up as an unbending overture to fervour and force.

This is twenty seven minutes of searing punk rock, blistering guitars, brilliant singing, incredible drumming and there’s never a dull moment or weak point.

This is a really surprising record, and one that you really have to spend time with to let it fully hit ya.

This is another lo-fi gem, and most encouraging is the fact that there’s apparently plenty more he can wring out of this particular sonic platform; he might not need slick studio production to genuinely capitalise on his potential.

International is a sign of gradual progression for Lust For Youth; there’s occasional backward looks by Norrvide, but slowly and surely this music is stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

It’s phenomenally exciting to have that sense of danger back in music. It’s subtle, malevolent and utterly charming noise, and if Glass Animals turned out to be buttering you up with a cannibalistic lick of the lips, you’d let them gnaw away.

They’re not ceasing their distinct punk-rap, but they’re offering a new portion of the spectrum. If you found it had to stomach their previous material, CLPPNG will provide you a rope, from which you can drag yourself into their miscreant lair. Fair warning: they may not let you leave.

Esoteric Warfare won’t be seen as Mayhem’s best album--there was never any chance of that. However, it’s as good as its predecessor, and every bit as vile and crushing as you’d expect.

Once again this clutch of sound, coming in at under an hour, is the vehicle for one of the most unusual and malleable voices in Britain today.

Despite the changes in their compositional style, their growth, their pain and their heartbreak, First Aid Kit haven’t lost the key element that makes them so distinct.

At times, despite the fact that this is his 12th collection of compositions, it’s often as if Lazaretto is Jack White at his most vulnerable.

For a record that on first listen sounds so sparse, Await Barbarians is a trove of sentiment and intricacy.

The album was not created lightly, and by no means deserves to be skimmed, but there’s a diversity and thirst within this album that stands to keep Early Riser remembered for some time, and will no doubt lead McFerrin to achieve the same.

Much of the album largely lives and dies by how much The Fresh & Onlys can animate five-decades old materials.

Pop’s going through a renaissance of sorts lately, or more accurately, the chart-dominating pop is, and alongside the aforementioned, La Grange is leading the charge of the nu-pop brigade. Avoid at your peril; the record’s not for missing.

This is a seductive and beguiling record.

While they’ve certainly sharpened some of the edges since Little Moments and brought their newfound gloom-and-synth-addled style to a more formidable shape, Only Run still suffers a significant lack of the sheer vibrancy and enthusiasm that made their off-kilter beginnings so invigorating.

Although not a million miles away from what we’ve heard of Johns before, with Adams’ help this release has captured a moment in time between the two artists that speaks volumes.

Strange Friend is a cosmic krautrock gem, like TV On The Radio raised in the Highlands, bustling with excitement and teaming with a million different ideas, eager to spill them all onto the canvas regardless of the mess it will make. But what a gloriously colourful mess to behold.

It’s an album that displays great faith in the late 70s/early 80s nexus of bar rock, punk, and 50s nostalgia, meaning that its melodies, riffs, and aesthetic choices often charm (to a point), even as its narratives mystify.

Dalliance is a brief half an hour expression of energy, without too much angst. It will never be considered a highly innovative venture, but the five-piece do manage to include some interesting twists on an old formula.

It is an interesting experiment, but realistically most listeners will struggle to get past the first couple of tracks before reaching for their trusty copy of Houdini.

It is not all perfect. Here and there, Mould switches onto autopilot and ends up filling up dead space in songs with half-arsed, Foo Fighters-ish powerchord passages, and the less said about the awful AOR dud “Let the Beauty Be” the better, But these moments are few and far between, with the bulk of the album consisting of straightforward, accomplished rock songs with enough muscle to anchor their poppy choruses and prevent them from floating off into Green Day territory.

Scandinavian pop clearly plays an influence alongside contrasting splashes of psych-rock and raw, grungy punk, and the unique little fantasy worlds they create with it are a great form of escapism.

What they couldn’t manage in the past is having enough discipline to put their disparate influences together and make a consistent album. However, on Movements, those days are over.

Death Grips are at their best when they’re just being plain weird. Some of the attempts to fully reproduce various types of dance music fall a little flat – it’s a passable imitation, but the kind of people who like psytrance might not have much time for most of Government Plates.

Smith’ sugary falsetto comes across a tad one dimensional and inexpressive on his solo debut In The Lonely Hour.