While it lacks the truly avant-garde attention of her previous record, trip9love…??? still contributes to her tripped-out, sensual surrealism with the intent of an artist willing to unfurl. In a carefully improvised moment of surprise, a definitive auteur of the modern feel decided to waltz into the centre of the dancefloor and yearn through that great release.

Nothing here feels inauthentic.

God Games provides glimpses of what makes The Kills so compelling, but is unlikely to convert many new listeners to the cause.

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.

All That Was East Is West of Me Now, begins as a noisy yet meditative record with crunching guitars and snapping snares, before settling into a more reflective pattern to suit the resigned sighs and stuttering sounds his tunes twist taut upon.

Goodnight, God Bless, I Love U, Delete. is overlong and perhaps too diffuse for its own good, but to hear Moreno wholeheartedly indulge his melodic instincts makes the whole exercise a worthwhile one.

Goodnight Summerland is musically, lyrically and thematically enrapturing. It is a record of pure beauty and elegance, brimming with beguiling melodies and dazzling progressions.

Jonny arrives after a decade as the same well-paced and tender exercise in running in place, exactly where they always leave off.

Sanguivore is a love letter to the 80s, whether it’s punk, pop, hard-rock or heavy metal, and it’s bursting with great songs that are sure to please long-term and new fans alike.

The record makes time for sharp skit humour and ends with a dazzling dance-pop groove. Where Cheek smooths down her effervescent ability to discard genre for more conventional psych-rock numbers, it’s not as exciting. But she can even do that better than anyone else.

Although all of the tracks on the record blend seamlessly together, many sadly sound similar to the last, with only a few stand-outs such as Superbloodmoon, a collaboration with American singer-songwriter d4vd.

It’s funnier, weirder, and plays with a more colourful blend of Americana. It also reveals more depth and ambition.

On Want You to Know she assures us that 'beneath the layers there is simplicity'. Despite this, there's always an emotional distance created by screens and technology, with tongue-in-cheek lyrics.

Gracefully distilling a profusion of self-loathing, Javelin is a heartsick high. No one yearns like Sufjan Stevens.

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.

Her most honest and reflective work to date.

This album could easily have been wrapped up in misery and the trope of the tortured artist, but instead it’s a pleasure to hear Tamko stepping bravely into a happy place.

The album is truly extraordinary – it is a once-in-a-career masterpiece that synthesises difference through abstracted self-observation. It is a vehicle for making meaning, an invitation to try again.

Bird Machine is a worthwhile coda to Linkous’s legacy.

Mid Air is a must-listen for anyone looking for a sentimental electronic dance anthem or for a song to say the words we are sometimes afraid to say.

Blake’s sonic ecosystem thrives in fusing seemingly discordant sounds. In striking electronic karate chops and pouring into careening chords, he makes the man-made appear organic.

As a standalone record, End of the Day does not always justify its existence. Some tracks are simply too empty, leaving a noticeable divide between audience and artist. It takes a concerted effort to listen to the album as a single track, and it perhaps would be best enjoyed alongside the film it was first written to accompany.

When it works, it’s thrilling, especially on the moody Moi and the mercurial, atmospheric Sons and Daughters. Elsewhere, Palms of Hands and Dusty are perhaps a little grindcore-by-numbers. Still, Neil and Vennart have presented their vision in uncompromising fashion, and those who yearn for Blackened Sky-era Biffy will unquestionably find something to love.

Slowdive are scene vets that have seemingly perfected their sound, but still have enough drive to keep nudging it forward, one shimmering soundscape at a time.

The Window is indicative of a newfound assuredness for a band which itself has stretched from a two-piece to a full foursome.

Meek’s vocals have always been quality, but on this release he has truly reached another level. The soft breathiness is used to the greatest emotive evocation yet, and the controlled manner in which his voice breaks cleanly into the following note in a way inimitable to few others than teenagers (certainly with less class than Meek) is impressive to the point of awe.

It's perhaps not the finest Hiss Golden Messenger album, but it's certainly one of the most joyful, and in the current climate, maybe that's just what we need.

Snow Angel is a well-calibrated blend of ballads and upbeat pop; self-contained but not unambitious. Not dealing in grand epiphanic or showstopping moments but rather steadier, more subdued honesty, Rapp jettisons the debut pop album rule book.

Overall, Learning How to Live and Let Go fluctuates in tone. But this doesn’t negate the clear effort the band have put into making this record a lot more experimental than any of their previous releases, and it’s still chock full of heart and vulnerability in its lyrical content.

Hozier’s far-reaching vocal range is on full display on Unreal Unearth – as an artist, he possesses that enviable fearlessness when it comes to being earnest. At times, the gospel overtones in the album reach cinematic scope. In places, this orchestral breadth comes off as over-produced, in a departure from the intimate honesty we've come to expect of Hozier.

The lengthy tracks here lose their momentum and oeuvre, dragging wearily toward the end. But when it's good, it’s great – similarly lengthy tracks in the first half, Wandering Through and Our Song feel varied and forceful enough to keep us on our toes.

While Deliverance does have instances of real bracing power, it equally finds itself faltering in its most exposed moments where it really needs to connect.

Radio Red bears all the hallmarks of a carefully constructed labour of love, one rendered all the more elegant by the glacial pace of its gestation.

Clocking in at less than half an hour, The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons is a breathless exercise in how rock music should be played. It’s fun, frenetic, and full to the brim with that trademark Hives humour.

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.

The record is resolute in its pacing, maintaining a continuous bpm between songs but never gaining driving force from the bass as the best disco does. Nothing ever feels like it’s at risk.

The Ones Ahead carries a resolute message of hope for the world, backed up by Glenn-Copeland's evident wisdom.

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.

New York five-piece Geese are sure to give you… well, goosebumps… with the impressive, impassioned sound of new album 3D Country.

Even if it doesn’t always hit the mark, Evergreen is an album that should see Gunnulfsen continue to climb festival line-ups and charts alike.

A few wispy moments aside, there's a solid foundation of synthy techno-pop on Love Hallucination, as well as Lanza's greatest excursion yet in Marathon – a fizzing sex and sax romper that flows into the sultry, downtempo Double Time, a wonderful close to the album after a bit of a lull.

There is no more potent reminder on The Ballad of Darren of what a back-to-basics approach makes possible than the outstanding lead single, The Narcissist. It's the gorgeous, understated sound of a band that suffered such growing pains for so long finally settling handsomely into their own skin. In that respect, it’s the whole album in microcosm.

While IRL is satiny and consistent, sonically and lyrically you’re eager for some bigger swings. At times operating in truisms, you await unspooling of edgier insight. IRL is like a path reflecting dappled sunlight: we can see patches of brightness but its full light is obscured.

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

As the title suggests, I Inside the Old Year Dying feels like a product of Harvey cocooning, burrowing into a space that feels protected and unhinged from relevance or topicality, as time and space wither. With that she has produced her most beguiling work.

Her voice is excellent throughout – defiant and unwavering over Littmann's production – and sonically it is patient, cinematic and hopeful. A refuge, perhaps, for anyone who has been on the receiving end of the confounding and cosmic world of grief.

But with all this exploration, the record lacks a little impact, not quite achieving the cohesion and emotional gravity of Good at Falling.

With acute taste and an ability to meld disparate sounds together, bdrmm have a solid formula: radio-rock with more substance, nuance and historical awareness than most of their contemporaries.

A real gem, this bold album brimming with character begins the etching of Chatten’s name among music’s greats.

Unmistakably human touches are the key to the album’s balanced sound – still ominous and complex, but with less of an underground bunker feel than previous outings.

The Beggar is another solid entry into the Swans canon, if not one that suggests it will have the staying power of their classics. It still marks Swans as a group intent on developing long into their career, and there’s no threat of them losing their intensity.

There's a lot happening in just six songs, with too many jarring ideas to fit on a cohesive album, but as a grab-bag of ideas it's an interesting and enjoyable listen.

30 years since the release of Pure, Godflesh continue to sound as relevant as ever.

There is a lot going on in PARANOÏA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE and yet it remains remarkably cohesive. It skilfully borrows and elevates.

While the songs feel of a piece with one another, there is subtly rich variety here, from the retro pop of Love Feel and Chain of Tears to stargazing reflection on Essence of Life and the dusky groove of Giddy Up and the title track.

If You Had Seen the Bull’s Swimming Attempts You Would Have Stayed Away provides three distinct sonic variations in its first minute alone, and does not rest on its laurels from thereon out. It encapsulates O Monolith, and elevates it.

Slocum’s lyrics give this tight 27 minutes of music a literary might beyond this band’s years.

With his new album Space Heavy, King Krule takes varying flavours from his unique sonic world and brings them together to create his most colourful work to date.

It is a record that dives deep into the listener's soul and unconscious, burying its soundscapes and frustration there, creating a rewarding progression in their sound.

It’s thrilling to hear songs gussied up in the signifiers of 'challenging music' be so completely unserious.

There are no overt leaps or shifts in the development of Parks’ sound from her Mercury Prize-winning debut Collapsed In Sunbeams, but there is something to be said of the unbridled confidence and general badassery she exudes on tracks like Weightless and Puppy. Parks also treats listeners to the undeniably beautiful Pegasus.

Understated but never dreary, on Aperture Jadagu invites us into her inner world with refreshing vulnerability – to feel as she feels, dream as she dreams, and ultimately, to hold hope at the end of it all.

While not every moment works as seamlessly as others and some track lengths can feel slightly daunting, the triumphs far outway the tribulations on this enthralling, emotional trilogy conclusion.

There is nobody quite like Christinzio, who finds room for brooding art rock (Fear Life In a Dozen Years), glorious melodramatic balladry (Going Out On a Low Note) and descents into impressionistic weirdness (It Never Rains In Manchester). His lyrics, meanwhile, imbue resounding sadness with rapier wit.

A selection of often very solid songs that waivers a touch towards its back end, but nonetheless marks another solid entry to the output of an always interesting artist.

From the ghostly mid-tempo beauty of tracks like Missus Morality and my kiss era, to lead single Nurse!, bar italia demonstrate how to be complex and seductive, without ever feeling pretentious.

A meditative body of work specked with spots of boldness, Secret Measure weaves new colours into Cloth’s musical fabric.

The Rat Road is a wondrous and playful musical sketchbook that takes the SBTRKT sonic blueprint and builds something lasting.

An Inbuilt Fault is a natural progression in Westerman's young career – a little more austere and timidly experimental. Like a similarly quiet revolutionary Amen Dunes, Westerman is carving out his own identity beyond his influences.

There are hints of the band's more dynamic past on Eucalyptus, Tropic Morning News and Grease In Your Hair. But on the whole, First Two Pages of Frankenstein is an excellent exploration into recovery from depression, passion and addiction and is one of the finest records The National have released in quite some time.

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.

That! Feels Good! is a revved-up hedonistic joyride that extols and celebrates the sensual necessity of pleasure. Jessie is firmly in her lane here, and it’s a satisfying drive from start to finish.

Despite a relatively concise tracklist of ten songs, at points the 45-minute runtime seems to drag on, giving the album a sense of heaviness. Not dissimilar ambient sounds wash into one another – overall perhaps a more pared-down curation could better highlight the album’s strengths.

Ben Watt’s restrained piano and taut, anxiety-laden synths hang back so Thorn can carry the weight. She’s more than up to the task – her voice now fuller, deeper, enriched by experience, and perfectly suited to narrations about seeking light in the darkness.

On A Kiss For The Whole World, you can genuinely feel the life pouring out of the record. It’s eccentric, erratic and just the sui generis of what Enter Shikari stand for.

It's a mature album that is more likely to make you lean in to hear (as with the loud/quiet dynamics on Become The Earth) than beg for your attention. But there's ample reward in giving a little time to Feist.

When it aims for the ecstatic it works well, but it doesn’t colour its muted periods with anything like the precision, the uneasy vistas it is aiming for never quite forming.

HMLTD craft a compelling pox-ridden world of their own and leave just enough room for some bewitching ballads and ethereal laments amongst the chaos.

She has made the excavation of her feelings around freedom, identity and channeled anger into a record that embraces fun and surprising musical juxtapositions.

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.

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

The problem is that beyond the singles which dominate True Entertainment’s Side A, the band seem at a bit of a loss as to what to do with their newfound dancefloor credentials. The second half of the record rests on an at-times plodding and repetitive rhythm section, without enough excitement in the melody to buoy it up.

Their experimentation lies more structurally than sonically here. ... It also means that when they do lock into an extended groove it feels all the more impactful, be it the slinky The Little Maker, or the fractious firestorm that emerges in the middle of Momentary Art of Soul! It makes for an album where brevity belies what an enlivening and broad world it contains.

Bathed in a heavenly glow, it’s easy to let these songs wash over you, but Chua’s soothing vocals invite us to lean in and listen more closely.

It’s a coming-of-age bruiser of a record that transcends their brutal blend of J-pop and metalcore to more daring soundscapes.

Praise a Lord… is Yves Tumor’s most palatable music to date, and for those that have enjoyed the hurricane horror of their production previously – listen back to Noid with its blood-curdling screams and whirring sirens – the clean lines here will feel a little too neat. But with a new sense of clarity in sound comes a conceptual rigour.

The album may not be more than the sum of its parts, but thankfully those parts are packed full of enough weird and wonderful sounds to ensure another excellent Fever Ray album.

Across the album, Uchis seamlessly slips between English and Spanish. ... When the journey comes to a close, it couldn’t be clearer that, in Uchis’ world, love is the message.

WOW blurs the line between intentional and incidental noise to celebrate the sonic richness of everyday life and the ability of sound to trigger memories.

Overall, Follow the Cyborg is a striking debut with both surrealist sensibilities and melodic hooks – marking Miss Grit as one to watch.

The record feels like someone truly in control of their craft, to the extent that it begins to suffer from this a touch, all of its edges honed too perfectly, too considered to leave any sense of spontaneity, even if it is often beautifully done.

It feels cohesive and wholeheartedly honest, embracing its rough edges with vulnerability. Guitar scene frontrunners once again? Most certainly.

It’s all here, and though it may not reach the dizzying, if somewhat bloated, heights of 2017’s Humanz, it still slaps.

Too often the album feels like a case of enacting genres rather than letting their influence seep in. It leaves the record feeling like a grab bag of ideas, some of which have been polished to brilliance, others of which haven’t been fully realised. There’s clearly a great album in there, just one that never quite gets the momentum to show itself.

This album is littered with strangely beautiful imagery. ... Desire, I Want to Turn Into You is an exciting new milestone for Polachek.

Staying on theme for 40 uninterrupted minutes leaves you craving some lyrics, even a scrap, that make contact with the wider world.

Across the record, Kelela’s striking and deeply affecting vocals are baked into sultry, hypnotic soundscapes that captivate and hold onto the listener at every turn.

Reflective and funny, Yo La Tengo would be forgiven for recording endless victory laps at this point. Instead, they continue to defy.