Decidedly more disco for Mitski, Be the Cowboy is a showdown of electrowave and her signature fretwork that brings a pop pep to heartbreak and humanity’s greatest gluttonies. With that formidable force of a voice, she forces us all to be the cowboy and lament for a while.

Over the course of their unabashedly DIY-sounding debut – whether that sound is merely an invocation rather than authentic, you can’t deny that it nails it – these songs walk the same line of art rock as Goo and Dirty-era Sonic Youth.

Brickbat is never less than a delight: a sparky and genre-spanning showcase of songcraft and ambition. Lovingly rendered, a clean mix allows its often lavish arrangements to soar.

Throughout, the group's tried-and-true, gleaming synth-pop palette is flecked with fresh sonic ambition, particularly on slow-burning epics Corner of My Eye and The Sickness. At the centre of it all remains Herring’s fabulously expressive voice, tailor-made to spin tales of heartache.

CMAT is a pop tour de force who knows exactly who she wants to be and has all the talent to deliver it.

The second record from Rachel Aggs and Eilidh Rodgers, Glasgow-based duo Sacred Paws, is an unrelenting, fast-paced doubling down on its energetic predecessor Strike a Match.

Lyrics are as simple and as witty as ever, focusing around sexual desire, jealousy and life in the pre-hipster East End in 2008.

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

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.

When it feels like life’s moving too fast, and that things are starting to get away from you, it doesn’t hurt to revel in the small things. Across their debut album, Wet Leg do exactly that and it makes those precious moments of nothingness feel that little bit more special.

The Glasgow-based quartet back it up with brilliantly catchy and inventive songs that will ensure a smile and a toe-tap while making their audience think.

CHAI may lean heavily into kawaii culture but PINK proves there’s a wealth of depth beneath the cute exterior.

As usual Flying Lotus produces, with his fingerprints particularly keenly felt on tracks such as Unrequited Love, to assist Bruner with yet another fantastic release.

Can we still say ‘wow’? The evolution in Joseph’s work is restless and searching. This release is no different as it serves us another intuitive and unexpected turn in her style, instrumentation and vocals.

Somersault takes a bolder leap forward, taking tropes and palettes from 60s pop, grunge, and even country, and making bold play with strings and horns, piano and harpsichord, surprising effects, freer guitar and more assertive bass.

These eight tracks are so deliberate and self-contained that you almost wish for something to puncture their protective casing, for Burns to let her agile voice soar. But Argonauta is an album still forming questions, giving no answers.

[The Ever Turning Wheel is] a track whose presence is indicative of the record as a whole: tender, considered, personal. 'Call off the race, I’m thumbing my way back to you', and the listener may find themselves agreeing.

If Panic Shack has a constant theme running through it, it’s an appreciation of the power of female friendship, as crystallised on the disarmingly earnest closer Thelma & Louise. This is one of the debuts of the year.

Angry, acquiescent and apathetic all at once, Running Out Of Love is an ideal album for our anxious times.

The question of identity is touched upon throughout the songs here (national, political, gender), but in terms of musical identity, Hurray for the Riff Raff know exactly who they are.

Kinetic and unpredictable, whatever has instigated such an about turn, this idea-packed collection provides an evolution from the ambient, new age music Smith has become known for.

The melancholia that underpins Trash Kit's music remains while they expand their palette, and results in an impressive piece of work.

It may lack the richness and depth of her solo work, but that is replaced with absolutely towering riffs and Jurassic grooves.

It adds up to a remarkable work of often queasy beauty that never releases its grip.

With a clearly defined sound and unapologetic enthusiasm, The Linda Lindas are absolutely a group to watch.

The album loses some of its momentum through the last few songs, foregoing the weighty power of Minor Feelings for something more airy and nebulous. In many ways, this album feels like a love letter to Sawayama's younger self. It feels like a promise that joy is coming.

Overall, V feels like a consolidation of all of the strengths that The Horrors have built up over the last ten years, tightly bundled and perfectly accessible without sacrificing any of their artistic integrity.

An indelible soundtrack of intelligent and bittersweet beauty.

Universalists is an extension and expansion of his solo debut, an evolution as simultaneously radical and just-right as any of the changes he’s known for improvising live.

Frontwoman (and visual artist) Isabel Munoz-Newsome steals the show with her haunted-chanteuse vocals, generally floating and ephemeral, but always powerful. The arrangements complement and flesh out her tales of love, sex and identity.

Whilst the duo blend their styles deftly, there are moments where their individual personalities dominate.

Unlearning is a daring and ambitious debut from a band who aren't afraid to take risks in order to achieve their vision, and for Walt Disco it’s a risk that’s paid off.

Les Racines is a personal project that reinstates Vieux’s own identity and unique skill, while thanking the roots that he grew from.

World Eater is ferocious and intense, but it's also thrilling and bristling with life--and it’s these contrasts that make it such a blast to listen to.

Although refusing to be pigeonholed, the album hangs together effortlessly and each part feels as vital as the last; despite its 17-song length, it’s hard to imagine Yanya’s vision without each one of these tracks.

For a record so brief, its ability to evoke scale--while still carrying the distinctive sound of the band that surprised us all with An Awesome Wave back in 2012--is testament to Alt-J’s demonstrable talents as artists.

Full Upon Her Burning Lips is perhaps their most minimal effort yet--which is a big statement for a band defined by their monolithic minimalism--but the hypnotic spell these two put the listener under is remarkable.

A record imbued with full faith in the minor masterpieces that dominate Villagers' fifth studio album.

Sparseness can often lend a chilliness, but Rundle’s work here can be grippingly hot and suffocating – the feeling of air being sucked out of a room – as she recalls past traumas.

It “accompanies” the film. It’s also the best part of it; a correction: Brontë’s gothica as something that clings and stains. And Charli, thoughtfully and tastefully, suffusing that stain into her continued ascendancy.

The wordless interstitial Flutter is abstract and freeform, its processed violin combining with cranked up electronics into a great surge, but Somerville can just as easily channel that spirit of experimentation into a perfect pop song like all her forebears.

Williams may be known for her inventive approach to the guitar – inspired as much by the spiritual blues of Elizabeth Cotten and American primitive guitarist John Fahey as it is Guitar Hero II – but it’s her egalitarian approach to collaboration that makes Acadia so alluring.

The Loneliest Time is still a solid leftfield pop album, showcasing Jepsen’s ability to draw across eras and genres to push the boundaries of what pop can be: ultimately, this is what makes her such a compelling artist.

Gordon manages to hit that sweet spot, creating an album that is adventurous, charmingly deadpan and visceral at every turn.

Taking cues from her early mixtapes, its songs function as sketches that reinforce each other to create a heavy and rewarding listen.

At times, Miami Memory feels like a streamlined repurposing of pop music's warmest sounds – be it the glowing synth jabs on Stepdad or the crispest of snares on Far From Born Again and Divorce – all retooled with a new level of subtlety and honesty for Cameron. What you’re left with is ten great pop songs; bitingly funny, bombastically anthemic and gently sensual, often at the same time.

A two-way artistic exchange in which everyone wins, musicians and listeners alike.

Nothing here feels inauthentic.

As much as has been made over the years about their esoteric methods, what they've always managed to do as a band is keep clever-clever at bay. This continues on Crooked Wing. For all their hifalutin techniques, they remain at their sublime best when most heart-on-sleeve.

Love Is Dead shows CHVRCHES attaining a greater urgency and darkness in tracks such as the dramatic, M83-esque Deliverance and My Enemy, a stuttering, drugged up duet between Mayberry and The National’s Matt Berninger.

Rush! perfectly captures the sense of spontaneous authenticity that makes for a one-of-a-kind show. Måneskin continuously prove that outcasts deserve a good time, and they are here to give it to us.

Crush may be some of Floating Points’ most assertive work, but sinking into its rich and deeply layered textures reaps countless rewards.

Physical boasts one hell of a range of tracks, some suited for dancing but all suited to telling Gurnsey's favourite story. With it he's created a new and independent take on house proving that Gabe Gurnsey is not just a member of Factory Floor but a solo artist in his own right and style.

Produced by Dave Eringa (Manic Street Preachers, Idlewild), Angry Cyclist offers a little less gravitas than usual in truth, but the taut Telecasters that dominate The Proclaimers' eleventh studio album provide a tension that seems to sit well within the heart of these prescient compositions.

IV isn't Black Mountain's most ferocious album, but you might well find it their most profound.

Never does she let these arrangements overshadow the most arresting part of her work though: her own voice.

The Practice of Love is a powerful and joyous offering from one of the last artists anyone could ever accuse of playing it safe. Her unorthodox observations ('She found stretch mark cream / In an Airbnb bathroom') are, more so than ever before, full of wit, bite and beauty.

The band’s latest effort doesn’t fully shrug off the creeping sense of familiarity, but for the first time marks a real step forward. Glowing In the Dark’s most successful moments are those that stray the farthest from the band’s blueprint of sun-washed guitars and cascading vocal harmonies.

Every second of the record is unconventional, rule-breaking, and mind-bending; the kind of album to ride a horse into sunset to. The Bitchos kick ass and you just know they enjoyed every lasso-twirling second of it.

Lex is inspired by lofty philosophical goals, on attempts to 'communicate a world distant enough that it can't be captured or comprehended in the present.' On this front Lex is undoubtedly successful, sounding consistently otherworldly, but still retaining enough humanity to make it effective.

Their confidence is so clearly on show here, and despite two fresh members for the album they're already tight and unanimous of their vision: "to make interesting, up-tempo rock & roll."

The trick that Johnny Lynch, aka Pictish Trail, has pulled on us all, however, is that beneath the froth and the dayglo is a set of songs that truly shine, sticking to your ears like Silly String, getting tangled in your brain and your heartstrings.

What is clear is that Ride's fifth album is something of a triumph and infinitely better than many a fan could have hoped for. Almost 30 years on those vapour trails show no sign of fading just yet.

Allison’s debut Tourist in This Town shows she certainly has the potential to go it alone too, provided it’s on her own terms.

An album of just Danilova's entrancing voice would be sufficiently good, but ARKHON shows a restless creativity that warrants all of your attention.

Yet though FIBS skips swiftly between moods and sounds, Meredith’s innate ability to bring these parts together into a collection that’s both bursting with compositional creativity, while still maintaining its own sense of cohesion and an accessible edge, inspires awe. It’s no lie: Meredith has struck gold once again.

Her zephyr-like voice acts as a guide through her mind, gentle yet assured, and the tone of her delivery illustrates the grey intricacies that shade her world: past, present and future.

It's a low-key record for a certain type of listener--this isn't a band clamouring for arena-rock status, just one that is happy making good music and having fun doing it.

Like The Bride, there is a common conceptual thread running through these tracks, but unlike that record, there is less effort exerted in shaping them to fit a narrative. The songs are better for it, each unspooling like a miniature movie of its own without the same need to move the story from point A to point B.

KiCK ii is deconstructed reggaeton. A great idea (see DJ Python), but it makes for some of the least interesting music of the whole collection, as the first half leans on typical reggaeton beats (though nicely spectral on Rakata) for fairly straightforward songs.

As its title suggests, Chris is a supremely confident introduction to the next phase of Christine and the Queens.

Take Me Apart may not appear as immediately interesting and unique as her previous work but there are layers upon layers of elements to be explored, digested and, ironically enough, taken apart.

The result is a melodic and chilled-out collection that ripples with sonic goodness.

Although the spiritual undertone (providence meaning ‘divine guidance’) feels somewhat overdone, Fake has created a truly impressive release--managing to weave together diverse and eclectic sounds into a cohesive whole.

While there's nothing particularly new or breakaway on this self-titled release, it’s a familiar feeling that will leave fans more than satisfied.

Once again working with Americana producer du jour Dave Cobb, Shires uses this record to push her sound to another level.

Great moments in great songs ('I love you, there, I said it') still seem to be deep enough waters for EELS to swim.

Sprawling, magnificent, dangerous and fantastical; this beast is--however extraordinary--an apt representation of the 11-song extravaganza it adorns here.

[Producer Kurt] Ballou’s signature crushing heaviness may have become a cliché in some circles, but paired with Wolfe’s beautiful voice and brilliant writing, it's a match made in heaven.

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.

The result is a sparkling pop effort, with Campbell bringing copious quantities of the old Obscura glitz to the likes of the swooningly romantic It Can’t Be Love Unless It Hurts, the jazzy Home & Dry and, most poignantly, to the undiluted Americana of Alabama, a direct tribute to Lander.

There’s no sniff of second album syndrome here. moisturizer oozes confidence and Wet Leg continue to play to their strengths in style.

Everything that grooves here (over half the album, which clocks in at 19 tracks) is great and makes you want to see the band live. The rub? Making a New World is a song cycle about the after-effects of the First World War.

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

Compared to Tillman’s previous releases as Father John Misty, Chloë and the Next 20th Century feels like an immense achievement musically, while not wholly dropping the cynical and whimsical elements of his songwriting.

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 Caretaker is not for the fainthearted, nor is it designed to be background music: it demands to keep your full and undivided attention.

While this may not be the most cohesive record that Spoon have ever produced, it is one brimming with ideas (one might say overflowing), and serves as testament that more than 20 years into their career this is still a band with plenty to say.

It’s a creative, energised exploration of the power of both the human voice and electronic music to move us.

This is an album swimming with inventiveness, quality and variety: it’s good to have her back.

Thank Me Later and Burning Bridges both wade through the sentiment of leaving on a high rather than trying to scale a sinking ship. While feel-good anthem Mirror is the body confidence balm we all need a dash of this summer. The record isn’t all righteous pop bangers though. There are some tear-jerking numbers that even Adele would be proud of (see: Last To Know and High Note).

The Attachment Theory highlight fascinating new aspects to Van Etten's craft, like the reflective prisms of precious stone. What is lost in cohesion is made up for by an exploratory freedom that the band revel in, hopping from wistful to explosive to triumphant.

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

Various guest features add further depth and despite many of the mixes being made in a day, this beautifully weird mish-mash of sounds succeeds in inviting listeners further into the depths of Jockstrap’s experimental world.

The gorgeous harmonies of Threaded Dances and the irresistible groove of Pareidolia provide particular highlights. The album as a whole, meanwhile, simmers with promise as to where Izenberg might head next; quietly, here, he’s crafted one of the summer’s finest records.

As ever with Nightmares on Wax, Evelyn melds past and present with enviable fluidity, finding a universality that’s inclusive rather than generic.

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.

Every Valley is lush and symphonic, more interested in expressing the human spirit of the mining communities than aestheticising the conditions in which they toiled.