In the minesweeping of stylistic variation they’ve even ended up accidentally sounding like post-Absolution Muse on the harmonies-rich Desire. Despite this, there is still a wealth of texture and musical brio on offer here, framing the restrained development as a narrowing of the laser rather than a sign Everything Everything are hitting their limits.

Shah's rich musical palette smartly frames her lyrical acumen; crisp horns colour Relief’s spartan groove.

Every element in his songs fight for control of the centre before inevitably decaying together like racing pennies in orbit around the centre of a funnel.

The studio mix is excellent, and sample-heavy interludes provide a welcome break from what at times seems like a label compilation. One unifying thread, however, is the playground-fidelity sampling and the prominent, plucky bass, which gives the album a Parliament-ish, heavy funk overtone.

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.

What sets Every Inch of Earth Pulsates apart from its predecessors, though, is the sheer urgency of the piece; it crackles with a nervous energy that will surely propel them to new heights.

[Redemption Love's] use of repetition is borderline annoying, the instrumental is completely uninteresting, making this track feel like just another piece of filler on an album that otherwise features some truly captivating songwriting. The title track, for example, is the Joan Armatrading we know and love, and then some: contemplative, wise and deliciously groovy.

These songs are strong enough to be recorded with minimal accompaniment and that instantly recognisible, hushed voice--but the best moments are when his love of electronica shines through.

It’s not groundbreaking but, like the first record, it’s a fucking good time.

Dependent on its rich texture and brought to life by the depth of the duo’s musicianship, this is an intriguing and deeply satisfying debut.

What Ought achieve on this album both surpasses and expands on what they've already built. A joyous philosophical cacophony that finds new ways to inform, excite and challenge the listener.

Boy from Michigan is an unhurried, loping listen; sprawling over 75 minutes with sumptuous synth and a ten-minute tirade on Trump’s America (The Only Baby). Sometimes the laconic style feels repetitive, but there are plenty of perfectly formed moments to bring the album back into focus.

By deliriously atmospheric closer Lisboa, it's clear that the Chicagoan trio have little new to offer the genre, but they sure know how to make a dead concept feel alive.

Ultimately, it's a collection of well-written and well-presented songs, though at this point the familiarity with the Condon style feels expected, and the few new tweaks aren't quite enough to raise Hadsel above a middling Beirut album.

There’s plenty of the usual Amyl fare here, with some absolute stompers right out of the gate.

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.

The poetry of it is woven into the musicality; the longer I listen, the more deeply I fall into it. The album is delicious; it's a nourishing meal for this cold and dark season.

Frances’s voice has a tendency to sway into a mumble throughout, making certain vantages into her world a strain to perceive – unfortunately lending itself to the album’s mysterious nature a little too well.

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.

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

Allison paints a full emotional landscape of this chapter of her life that’s as complexly nuanced as it is brilliantly captivating.

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

The result is more tacky than glam. If you’re in it for the jokes, Hippopotamus is worth the effort.

Smith has taken his time, and made mistakes, in comprehending what he’s been through. And Deceiver is all the more honest for it. Impressively, that doesn’t shine through intricate detailing but as something more abstract. Deceiver sounds like that experience, more than it describes it. And there’s hope at the end too.

Stay Close to Music is captivating. Unable just to play in a background, Mykki Blanco has created an album that needs your full attention. It constitutes a narrative that is not only guided through words, but also sounds.

While it's a million miles from the techno of Holden’s earlier career, its rhythms and hooks are infectious. The Animal Spirits is, put frankly, one of the most complex, immersive and impressive albums of the year.

A hint of musical theatre elsewhere sees the record lose some of its bite, but in general it’s a robust rejoinder to some of the more depthless musicality of soul-baring, 'authentic', indie-rock. Kirby is instead funny, scathing and full of clarity about her personal epiphanies.

Barbara... is less massive comeback than slight return.

It’s a testament to Loma’s abilities as sonic world-builders that a number of tracks sound less like traditional songs than they do field recordings from shadowy, secluded habitats somewhere far from civilisation.

From voices in prayer to the jaunty organ and guitar pedal abuse of Congratulations, this is a record that rarely falls short of a creative arrangement but ultimately the gospel of Morby is one for the devotees not the unbelievers.

Overall, the album expands on the iconic Trippy Gum and Bamboo, showcasing how Cosials' drawl and Perrote’s wailing blend into a beautiful melody you want to sing along to.

These nine tracks prioritise serenity and beauty in their evocation of some unknowable beyond. Their sparkle can become almost too perfect, which makes the dark abruptness of the last two pieces feel like release, even if they throw its general hopefulness into uncertainty.

Despite the daring newness, Screen Violence still feels unmistakably CHVRCHES, and one of their strongest records at that.

This time around, it's the longer tracks that hit the hardest.

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.

nothing or something to die for is a jaw-droppingly beautiful, immersive experience where each track melts into the next, and in a quiet room with a decent set of headphones, you’ll get lost in its dreamy, bittersweet soundscape.

A Firmer Hand is an album in which Hawk daringly takes a searchlight to the complexities of the relationships with men in his life ('friends, lovers, family, colleagues') and, by extension, to the complexities within himself. The result is dazzling.

There’s no question DePlume is a remarkable saxophonist, his orchestral arrangements with International Anthem labelmate Macie Stewart are stunning, yet the appeal is a tenderness for the listener.

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.

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.

A collection of authentic songs about self-discovery and understanding.

The ex-Coral songwriter is unafraid to experiment on Yawn, and--aside from a few songs that lose a little of their immediacy due to similar tempos and an abundance of shoegaze guitar--the likes of Mither ('Is that your key in the door / Nothing else would mean more') showcase Ryder-Jones as one of the most distinctive, comforting and essential voices we have.

The only downside to the album is that it is so easy to listen to, we are carried almost unaware to The End, the final track in a collection of well-thought-out and well-curated tunes.

His [guitarist Stephen Carpenter's] fleeting interplay with Jerry Cantrell's sprawling guest solo reaches past minor curiosity to become an essential encounter on a record with countless unfurling highlights.

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.

The only weak portion of the album (relatively) is two consecutive rockers towards the end (Today, I Will), because you've come to expect something more experimental. But this is a minor quibble in what's otherwise one of the most exciting albums to come out this year, regardless of genre.

There Is No Other is a similar, gentle masterpiece [to Beck's Morning Phase], but there's leather located behind the silk and the record packs an emotional punch.

Keep Moving is the closest that Loving in Stereo gets to its own calling card, but too often the album gets mired in mid-tempo fare that allows the adrenaline to wane.

Mostly, though, this is everything a debut should be: fascinating, confused and a little bit terrified.

The results are certainly a departure for an artist who seems to relish the chance to collaborate and while each of these ten songs is a Roberts original, the lush song craft recalls the golden age of electric folksters like Fairport Convention and Trees, ensuring Roberts' ongoing connection with the past.

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.

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.

While stylistically The War on Drugs have never released anything revolutionary, A Deeper Understanding lacks that spark that their previous releases had, which could well be due in part to their move to a new major label home.

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

He can still shred with the best of them (Wait, Hi Dee Dee, Watcher), but across this hour-plus album he revels in upending expectations, whether through abrupt tonal shifts (To You's new age synth excursions, Void's trippy synth hits), fried-metal no-wave (The Bell), or even a regular rocker that could pass for early Radiohead (Reflections).

Cate Le Bon and H. Hawkline join Gwenno for the spiky, feline Y Gath, sliced between the celestial ballad Utopia and the windswept desolation of War. Finally, on airy closer Hireth, the album seems to take off out of the city streets and into an otherworldly reverie, delicately strung together with harp and flute.

Nestled among the more turbulent pieces are some truly infectious melodies, with euphoric lead single Lose It Again closely followed by the effervescent Part That Bleeds, while frothy, loved-up closer Stuck might just be the record’s most endearing moment.

I Am Easy to Find is littered with these ambitious flourishes, all of which add up to make a much broader and more pointed statement of offbeat intent.

Just when it all seems familiar, you're struck by a specific detail and realise you’ve started to smile.

Gazelle Twin has crafted a masterpiece that feels timeless, her most deft blend of punishing and melodic yet as well as a fearless examination of both then and now.

He maintains his voice, his melodic instinct and knack for presenting raw emotional landscapes without ever slipping into self-pity or losing his sense of humour. However, in throwing himself into the garage rock mould he loses the loose relationship with genre that allowed the twitchy dynamism of his best work.

Much like Ocean’s Blonde, Devotion unfolds and unravels in different ways upon each listen, giving you everything but never too soon. With it, Tirzah and Levi have created something fiercely unique, relatable and of the moment; one of the most crucial pop records of the year.

The Weather is Pond at their most daring--and most sardonic.

In Limerence is a debut album that is at once confident and vulnerable.

A beautiful record; you just wish the vocabulary existed to do it justice.

With the release of PLAY ME, Kim Gordon has mastered a modern mixture of distorted guitar and intense trip-hop beats. Gordon’s lyricism throughout the album is more politically confrontational than her past two solo records.

To listen to Photay, meanwhile, is to be continually taken aback by new sounds and sensations, and to marvel at how artfully Shornstein dissolves them together.

Playing with a mix of spoken word and sung lyrics in both English and French, powerful techno beats and fear-inducing soundscapes, New Path is a beautifully balanced and flowing record.

The baggy mid-section gives over to pared back singer-songwriter fare that reigns it all in, the record’s bright flame burning out rather too fast.

Paradise may be titled ironically, but it refuses to wallow in cynicism, ending with concern about the state of the world, but hoping that unity will guide us through difficult times.

This may be billed as their second album, but for those who haven’t been keeping up, it's a great introduction to an exciting young band fully-formed. With it, they may be joining the hallowed halls of the Sub Pop roster, but they don’t look out of place.

It's not a record that's overly concerned with coherence, but the freedom to experiment suits Malkmus well, especially when he lets the ideas dictate the music without trying to adhere to any sort of thematic cohesion.

It took three attempts with three different producers before being finished. But it arrives a work of rich, elegant beauty.

The Louder I Call, the Faster It Runs revels in keeping you off balance; it impresses, inspires and occasionally overwhelms, but it never outstays its welcome. A fantastic statement from an endlessly evolving band shouting louder than ever.

It's a surprisingly spotty album from an artist who rarely puts a foot wrong.

Over the course of ten tracks in 30 minutes, Terry display the sheer prowess of their pop sensibilities and punk aesthetic, with brilliant movers and shakers like The Whip, or the more reflective Oh Helen at the core of it.

If the range of CHAI's capabilities was ever in doubt, this album is the answer, offering unexpected turns and new ideas, incorporating them into their kaleidoscopic swirl of noise with aplomb.

A difficult but thrilling listen.

On Black Coffee, these two scratch out a new groove in a very old record, and it’s well worth listening.

This record isn't exactly a "pleasurable" experience, and its relatively brief half-an-hour run-time may seem like a relief, but it actually somewhat undermines the tension in its brevity.

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.

One More Thing is the product of an accomplished band noodling around in the studio. There's a playfulness and creativity here that promises bigger and better things from the Brighton four-piece in the future. As far as debut albums go, this is a promising one.

Flowers is another lunch-line scoop of hearty 70s soul revivalism from music's most dependable dispensary. It's just on the underside of too pretty for its own good.

It’s the Le Butcherettes vocalist’s sheer power that makes Crystal Fairy feel less like a Melvins offshoot and more like its own entity.

Between its moderate tempos and spartan production, In Between seems designed to turn as few heads as possible and at first even comes across a tad glum. ... With a little patience though, its sunnier side shines through. All the hallmarks of The Feelies' sound are present, but in a pleasantly subdued state.

Pleasure is easily Feist’s most difficult album, far from the immediate accessibility of The Reminder, but she's a captivating performer and it may well be her richest statement.

The obliqueness is only a challenge if you allow it to be; the depth of Hersh’s music has always revealed itself over time rather than through simple earworms (although they're present on the mighty Killing Two Birds).

Every track on sentiment feels like a late-night phone call from a close friend; when the album stops, you find yourself missing the voice on the other end.

While they may not have completely achieved seventh heaven here, 7 is still a solid first step heralding Beach House’s next phase.

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.

It's an album that oozes confidence, from the UK’s indie-rock standard-bearers.

There’s much of TOTS's recent past hidden in WRAITH. The industrial cyberjams of 2015’s Highly Deadly Black Tarantula are unceremoniously drained of their colour and body fat for a second go-around; blocky drum machines protrude like bones from rotting flesh on opener I’d Rather, Jack.

American Football build on their distinct craft for creating pop songs out of odd time signatures, seamlessly weaving multi-minute epics without ever feeling overblown such as on Silhouettes, cementing the band's return as a success.

Through it all, Lotic maintains a deep sense of nuance, sounds constantly morphing and remaining grippingly vital, still with great emotional intensity around every corner.

Bold and ambitious, Future Ruins is deliriously difficult to place, and all the more exciting for it.

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

While the music itself never strays far from Lewis' usual anti-folk template (although In Certain Orders' spot-on replication of The Cult's mid-80s stadium rock sound is an interesting aside), there's a focus and commitment to make each of these songs sound the best they can. It's a plan that's worked and Bad Wiring is an electrifying addition to the Lewis canon.

An arresting blend of ecopoetics and meditations on grief.