Nile Rodgers-esque guitars are a key feature throughout Life Is Yours. Aside from the more laid-back Flutter, the album’s danceable tempo shows no respite across its 40-minute duration. Its production is also extremely cohesive.

Sleaford Mods are already one of the oddest British bands in this fraught political era. With English Tapas, they continue to push the case that they’re also the most necessary.

Is merits (pep, sass, tunes) come to the boil in the ludicrously catchy I Hate The Weekend, but Lost Time is such an enjoyable half-hour you’ll barely worry about favourites.

The songs have a feel of personal strife, but are so vague that they can fit into just about any explanation you care to apply to them. But these criticisms are unimportant when faced with the simple catchiness of the music.

This debut comes from immense, fruitful collaboration. A collaboration between beings, instruments, melodies and spaces that offer room to listen, reflect and become.

Everything’s shrouded in enough metaphor to ensure that we never really see much of Rose the person, and instead spend the album’s forty-ish minutes with Rose the carefully-crafted, self-styled pop star. On this evidence, though, that’s just fine--she’s never sounded this thoughtful or measured.

Bottle It In calmly addresses rough themes with maturity and elegance. On his seventh solo album, Kurt Vile discards the negativity, generating an affirmative landscape of awareness.

It's sombre tracks like The Laughing Man where Clark carves deep into the family tree.

Antisocialites is a much more rugged and varied listen. This is Alvvays pushing the jangle pop envelope, and the perfect album for when sunny summer turns to antisocial autumn.

Autobiography offers a fascinating glimpse into the complex mind of one of dance music’s most enigmatic figures.

What was previously disarming in its honesty, we now expect and prepare for. This doesn’t mean that the quality has suffered, it has just softened.

[The] spirit of reflection bleeds into Every Country’s Sun, their latest effort, which draws and borrows themes and styles from across their career to build a whole as monumental as anything they’ve achieved so far.

The first half of All of This Will End hits with some serious force. The lyrics are forthright and clear, , and the arrangements are stripped back to their grungiest essence. ... With the arrival of the title track, the back half slides into a (relatively) mellower mood. ... The lyrical sharpness is still there, especially on absentee father-based Always (featuring some choice yells), but there's more reverb and layers to the arrangements now.

There is a certain messiness that he has managed to pull together throughout the record, giving an overall impression of authenticity, as well as multiple formidable creative sources colliding.

On G_d's Pee AT STATE'S END! Godspeed has created a perfect soundtrack for these strange times.

OK, this sort of retromanic pop writes its own logical criticism in a way (repeated formulas, looking backwards instead of forwards, etc etc), but when it’s done this well, it’s a timely reminder that the true logic of pop is music that communicates directly with the head and the heart.

A few later tracks don’t quite land the punches that others do. Still, the band's maturity is audible for all ears, as Pale Waves continue to carve their own path and embrace their best fiery and forthright version of themselves.

There’s new ground covered in the disco funk of Evan Finds the Third Room and the slow dance of album closer Friday Morning. Mostly, though, Con Todo el Mundo is a celebration of what shared creativity and influence can bring--something the world needs a bit more of these days.

The back half loses steam a little, but even mediocre RE is well-written and easy to enjoy. Victoria is an Alex Bleeker-led song with a bit of pedal steel twang, Airdrop throws in some synth and Freeze Brain has bongos for some reason. But these little affectations rarely distract from the uniformly gorgeous arrangements.

On Supermodels, Claud combines humour with pure heart throughout, cultivating the ultimate soundtrack for summer and beyond.

As they’ve progressed through their career, that quality undoubtedly still remains, but their sound has morphed into something much grander and ambitious than a previous dose of radio rock.

This album continually bends and warps, jumps and starts, fully absorbing its antedecents and regurgitating a masterstroke of contemporary electronic music.

Chubb’s lyrics are so sharp they could pierce the skin like a sword. Embodying the ethos of punk, All That Is Over mirrors the horrific state of humanity that the world has found itself in.

It's a fascinating second album from a band that feel genuinely unpredictable.

Access All Areas is an assertively, confidently, confoundingly surface level record that succeeds in presenting their lead singles with various wigs on for 45 minutes and change.

Poem 1 is a return to form; so much more focused and well-defined, but moving forward too, showcasing herself as a great songwriter amidst the ambient wash of her earlier work.

Viagra Boys are still copping from the William S. Burroughs playbook when it comes to surrealism and degenerates, but there's a confidence and heft throughout Cave World that keeps it sounding fresh.

It's not perfect (Hugs and Kisses is something of a misfire) but it certainly stands alongside the best of what Rouse has done before.

Over the course of sixteen tracks here, we get a glimpse of both the glorious past and promising future of the Bandits.

Letherette manage the notoriously tricky second album by delivering a reworked and revitalised version of the style with which they have made their name.

This is perhaps not as immediate a record as Faith In The Future, the narratives of which were foregrounded in the song titles a little more, but it stands up to repeated listening just as well, and confirms his status as one of American music’s best storytellers, in the same mould as Leonard Cohen or Lou Reed.

While The Age of the Understatement's exuberant candescence came from just a few very obvious influences tossed together (and was then pigeonholed as a Scott Walker tribute by the music media), this record ranges wider and finds new pockets of surprise while paradoxically seeming less out-of-the-blue.

Perhaps this new album doesn’t match the immediate wow factor of Whack World – few albums ever could – but regardless, we should be thankful Tierra Whack is out there doing her thing; making mainstream hip-hop interesting.

An arresting blend of ecopoetics and meditations on grief.

It’s a sensation that sneaks up on you, a kind of mania at once funny, alarming and harrowing, and it all adds up to something unlike anything else you’ll hear this year.

[Bundick’s] in his element here, embracing the improvisational jazz of The Mattson 2 as together they pry open your third eye and flood your mind with their cosmic apparitions.

More notable for its meditative atmosphere than blockbuster tracks, Rebound isn’t the sort of record that will blow anyone away, but that’s never been Friedberger’s MO. When it comes to neatly capturing knotty feelings and subtle changes of mood, she remains one of indie rock’s masters.

Here Is Everything presents a band laid bare (the whole record crafted together in drummer Fern Ford’s spare room studio). And, like the Harvest Moon casting its welcome glow, it’s a beacon of endurance and survival. Celestial magic.

It’s a treat when a band that’s spent the better part of three decades crafting their sound and poetic sensibilities has all those endless hours of commitment come out crystal clear on their tenth record, and it's precisely what Idlewild have accomplished here.

On its own merit, Part 1 is yet another banger-laden album, from an indie-rock machine who are now firmly established as one of the most consistent in their scene.

With Drop Cherries Billie Marten has beautifully recollected a collection of intimate feelings, thoughts and sentiments, transforming them into introspective songs that are hauntingly relatable to any listener.

Recorded in a week with her friend Luke Temple, abysskiss captures a fleeting moment in time, though some minor creative decisions taken feel as if they could have larger implications in the future, as the understated synth in womb leaves us curious as to how her unmistakeable vocal would sound accompanied only by cold electronics. Said vocal is as complex as ever: delicate and strong, soothing yet uneasy, each listen revealing new emotional depth.

Constance’s empathy is radiant as her lyrics are brought to the fore by way of a minimal guitar-led backing. Her emotional intellect is demonstrated through her articulation of mental health and personal struggles.

Featuring crunchy guitars, squeals of feedback and masterful melodicism, comparisons to Pinkerton are inevitable, but there's more nuance and maturity at work here.

The merry, danceable energy never lets up, from the meandering guitar work of Hi! to the album’s rousing finale, Let Me Cook You. Talkie Talkie sees Los Bitchos return with more polished, vivid and delightfully camp soundscapes.

At the centre of Shura’s third album is the rousing anthemic piano ballad I Wanna Be Loved By You, and it captures the DNA at the heart of this yearning, vulnerable record.

Weaves can flick between breezy, cute pop hits to tight-fisted punk snarlers in the blink of an eyeball, and the record's best tracks are a combination of both.

Earl Grey delivers eleven thoughtful, quirky tracks which deserve to be listened to again and again.

It’s an introspective record and, although there are flashes of the melodic indie-pop Mull Historical Society are known for, it’s overall more laid-back.

Potentially one of the most beautiful records you’ll hear this year. It makes sweet misery out of melody while articulating a forlorn yet rousing sense of hope.

Blending a history of gospel, soul and rap, NO THANK YOU cuts and shifts, showing her irrepressible force and talent.

A dazzling record that finds the trio slightly more optimistic, slightly more resolute, but defiantly themselves.

By all accounts this fusion of genres should feel awkward and unworkable, but Ziúr fuses these elements together with the precision of a mad scientist unaware of the monster they’ve just created.

What is surprising is how this darker direction unearths a hitherto unearthed pop sensibility in Moon Duo with songs like White Rose and Will of the Devil recalling the gothic melodies of Siouxsie and the Banshees or The Cure at their gloomy best while Creepin’ skips along like something off The Strokes’ first album.

On The Seduction of Kansas they thrillingly disrobe of any of the negative connotations that might, usually wrongly, come along with that phrase “political punks”; namely extreme directness and a sense of lacking musicality, as the band explores new identities both narratively and stylistically.

Let Them Eat Chaos dazzles with its linguistically-created, vivid imagery, and ability to evoke overwhelming atmosphere through its sound.

Authentic, intricate and wholeheartedly personal, Julia Jacklin brims with poise at every turn on PRE PLEASURE.

Rodriquez’s most cohesive and ambitious work to date.

A warm, insightful and frequently jarring record full of pain, love, curiosity and mystery.

In all, Bunny is as varied, strange and untethered as you might expect. There are moments of singular genius that can only come from a committed tinkerer like Dear, but also forgettable experiments that sometimes get lost in the whirlpool of creativity that this album stirs up.

Chock-full of gluey basslines and gleaming synths, Outer Peace is very much a dance record and it’s pure ecstasy.

A moving synth-pop paean to the pair’s powerful relationship and a fitting finale to their School of Seven Bells project.

Tina’s bossa nova rhythms slip awkwardly between homage and parody, its retro charms uncertainly realised. Yet even these misfires retain the warmth and sincerity that make More an inviting return. Pulp demonstrate here that revisiting the past can yield genuinely uncompromising and organic rewards.

On I quit, HAIM are unbound. It is brilliant, then wandering, then brilliant again; an imperfect, burning, compelling work.

Say Yes is an assertive, cathartic shout of independence. An understandably grittier attitude drives even the most understated of tracks, but blows full force on Avalanche.

Still disorientating yet more alive than ever, this is a bold album that skillfully pairs darkness with light.

In short, they make experimental rock sound so easy when the reality is anything but.

Indulgent? Possibly, but it works, because this record – even the longest tracks--is punchy, witty and razor sharp.

Overall, Santhosam has the fresh vibrancy of a mixtape, but with the smooth cohesiveness of an album – it’s the self-assured debut of an artist who has fully arrived and is ready to carve out a distinctive space of her own.

It’s an album that worms its way into you, slowly revealing more and more of itself with each listen, layers of intricacies shifting beneath its drifting beauty.

Startlingly original and yet somehow a nostalgic comfort in these worrying times, Roberts is one of the best we've got.

From start to finish Parasol Peak delivers a unique and fantastic experience that just has to be listened to in order to be fully appreciated. It's accompanying film is bound to be just as captivating.

You Might Be Smiling Now... is lyrically smart, funny, and terrifyingly relatable.

It’s a New Day Tonight is a highly polished vehicle that demands to be driven at twilight with the roof down, allowing for its passengers to drift off to the engine’s dulcet purr and the wind’s gentle caress.

The album does get a little bit repetitive towards its climax. Overall The National have survived their electronic ring of fire relatively unscathed.

Twenty years on, The Dears still have a vital, driving passion that deserves a wider UK audience.

Where Boy King explored the toxic expectations of modern masculinity, Punk Drunk... runs almost like a case study; a romantic encounter in microcosm.

Hope Downs is as good a reminder as any that life’s a blast. Head to the beach, you’ve found the soundtrack.

Far from the carnival of featured guests that was 2017’s 26-track Humanz, though, The Now Now, at 11 tracks and with only three comparatively unobtrusive features (Snoop Dogg and Jamie Principle appear on Hollywood) is tighter conceptually but looser as a listening experience.

A triumph for Anderson, it's a more than worthy addition to his extensive and revered body of work; after over a hundred albums, his reign as king is as secure as ever.

Edwards, Carla Azar and Eugene Goreshter have taken their sweet time, and Pussy's Dead is satisfyingly, luxuriously self-indulgent as a result.

A confessional album that owes more to belief and soul-searching rather than a sense of direction, Lotus sees Little Simz blossoming from a dark spell into new light.

One of the album's greatest strengths is how it incorporates these experimental choices into something very musical, although that does mean you do occasionally miss what's below the surface on first listen. Different things rise to the top the more time you invest in the record, so if it's not clicking with you immediately, trust that it eventually will.

Their newest body of work retains a fiery core, it also reveals a more pensive and reflective side to the band.

Like each of the other eight explosive and grinding grunge tracks that make up Heaven, I Feel Free works to wipe the slate clean and start afresh. Despite the ferocity, there is undoubtedly uplift woven into the very fabric of each of Heaven’s blistering tracks.

The band knock it out of the park with a magical cover of Unable by the elusive, long-defunct Suburban Lawns which makes a convincing case for their new sound. Much like their expeditious songwriting style, Snõõper are always moving forward at breakneck speed, unafraid to broaden their wacky musical horizons.

Aisles is a simple concept, executed spectacularly.

Americana is an album you’ll want to make friends with. If there’s ever been a moment in your life that Ray Davies or The Kinks made better, you’ll find joy here.

While pulling from here and there, what binds Sometimes I Might Be Introvert together is a flair for the cinematic and the result is an album that's both monumental and an innermost peek into Little Simz’s soul.

Dripping in catharsis that seems to pour straight from Danilova’s soul, Okovi is rarely an easy listen, even when it’s at its most accessible. But it’s also profound, and Zola Jesus’ most emotionally stirring record to date.

If anything, uknowhatimsaying¿ is a little more controlled than Brown’s previous record, and perhaps that’s the experienced hand of Q-Tip exerting influence. It does nothing to besmirch the crown that Brown has already claimed as his own – as one of the best, and most boundary pushing, artists in the rap game.

It’s an irony that musicians who regard pop with suspicion usually turn out to be quite good at making it.

All told, Death Song might be their finest hour.

It doesn’t present cookie-cutter visions of fear and insecurity to observe from afar; it crawls under your skin and drags them out to you--whether you want it to or not.

Overall, Black’s latest effort proves nothing less than a markedly ethereal romp beyond the traditional boundaries of pop, as its comic hints of electronica and rolling melodies lend it a profoundly cosmic air.

Forty years in and Nick Cave isn't showing any signs of slowing down, if any he's got too much creativity to try and contain within this album's ten songs.

The pieces as a whole feel fuller, and more ambitious than anything Roberts has done to date. It marks another stunning development in a series that remains essential listening.