It’s hard to find fault with an album that feels so consistently representative of the mind that bore it. Francis Trouble is certainly Hammond finding a version of himself that’s pushing toward the future while never losing sight of who he really is.

Whether it’s cheering the night off with friends and family or spent in reflective solitude, I’m Bad Now is something you want to experience and get lost in, and if you don’t come back for a while, it’ll be just fine.

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.

Toning down her wry wit and wrapping her songs around the common theme of reckoning with and rebuilding from loss, Historian offers a more cohesive testament to Dacus’s exceptional songwriting.

Despite moments of variance, Firepower still finds Priest as focused as ever. Although they don’t break the mould on every track, it’s important to remember that it’s a mould that they set, and Firepower fulfills as some of this year’s most prospering and ferocious heavy metal.

A masterclass in how to show exploration while never straying from the beaten path, Miranda is a mind most should look to. Rich in melody and promise, she leaves no stone unturned on her journey to the centre of the musical earth.

An album this strong, delivered this late into an artist’s career, would usually be given an ugly tag like “return to form” or something equally crass. However, in Byrne’s case, it’s simply a continuation of what has been--and will hopefully continue to be--a glittering career full of highlights and continuations of form.

If you listen to this album with your head, it is a politically charged rally to the people, but if you listen with your body, it is an album designed to make you dance--the hallmark of any release bearing the Kuti name.

It’s half magical, lush, and wholesome, and half redundant. Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in repetitive cycles, not knowing when to quit. That moment has finally arrived for Titus Andronicus.

With Tearing at the Seams, Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats have distillated the ups and downs life throws at you into a vibrant collection of many-hued vignettes; some make you smile, some make you well up, and some make for the ideal accompaniment to good ol’ sauced-up revelry. Whatever the case, they’ll all make you feel that thing inside you. Soul.

Rolo Tomassi are a band still looking to push themselves further forward creatively, while remaining just as focused on retaining the dramatic core of their sound that has long set them apart from any contemporaries.

Like Francis Bacon, Young Fathers borrow inspiration to create gloriously realised works of unique art, which arouse debate, revulsion and awe in varying measures.

The berserk, nihilistic energy that made Andrew W.K.’s name is gone. In its place is something more affirming but more ponderous. Song after song goes for big, anthemic goosebump moments, but the melodies aren’t memorable enough and the sentiment, even as sincerely as it is delivered, feels forced.

All Nerve won’t please anybody looking for the reckless abandon of old, but surely nobody who ever loved this band will be in that frame of mind. Instead, they’ll be ushering these old favourites in from the cold with warmth and empathy. This records sounds like a quiet defeat; really, it’s a triumphant cacophony.

Clean showcases what it is to be stuck in a quicksand of self-loathing, and have it stop you from seeing your own accomplishments and more importantly, being proud of them. If Allison isn’t already chuffed with this debut, she should be.

Rare Birds is practically bulging with strong material. It’s telling that the album’s strongest moment--the desolately soaring closer “Mulholland Queen”--is also its least densely ornamented: on this form, Wilson’s songs require no extra polish or decorations to compel. Despite its flaws, Rare Birds is a rare find.

[A] fine album. If melancholy had a soundtrack, it would be Mint Field’s De Las Luces.

It’s an admirable essay in re-invention, brought about by necessity certainly, but no less successful for all that.

In short, the world can never have enough albums like this. Not only have Public Access TV added to the run of great New Wave-tinged pop records of the past few year or so--from Phoenix’ Ti Amo to Spoon’s Hot Thoughts, what they’ve also done is make an album that sounds like the more metropolitan end of New Wave, encompassing disco, punk and 80s pop.

Though the easy-to-follow lyrics and even easier-to-follow melodies throughout Great Big Blue make it ripe for every summer playlist under the sun, the result is of genuine collaboration and friendship, giving it a charm beyond its obvious summery sheen.

Hundred Acres’ environment can occasionally border on the too-cozy and tender, and, as has been the case on previous records, certain songs simply wind down more than they come to any conclusion. Still, Carey ably shepherds the whole sentimental journey.

A Humdrum Star is a stunning piece of music making, and almost certainly GoGo Penguin’s best work.

In All At Once, the Garden State guitar heroes show they have as much, if not more, to say than ever before.

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.

Straddling both shoegaze and post-punk is what makes Moaning both enthralling and frustrating, a hint to the cavernous thrill they're capable of though also threatening to oversaturate and lose themselves in their own dirge. Here's to hoping it doesn't end up enveloping them completely.

“I Shouldn’t Have Said That”, the pummeling psych diptych “Return of Witchcraft” and “Witchcraft”, and every other corner of Eggland find them in their sweet spot: blunt pop purity bolstered by Big Muff pedals and a sense of not-quite-reckless abandon.

This really is just a trio of mates having a bloody good time celebrating their heroes while making something dazzlingly new.

There’s no doubt that Pianos Become The Teeth are fully aware of where they want to be; all that’s left is a little more refinement and consistency to get them to that point.