Suicide Songs sees the trio perfect what they started to build on their debut.

Never Exhale is not for the faint of heart, and as its name suggests, is often a breathlessly intense, punishing listen, one filled with audible dynamism, sonic interest and gnarled heaviness.

Virginia Wing’s gift is the ability to get these elements [musique concrète to squelchy deconstructed techno, refracted pop hooks and seismic drone] to sit so comfortably alongside each other, within one immersive sonic world.

Fir Wave should represent a clash of styles – between Peel’s 21st-century toolkit and Derbyshire’s early-70s equivalent – but instead, there’s a deep sense that the two women, generations apart, are in tandem.

Blackstar is an absorbing (if consciously arty and perhaps a shade self-indulgent) listen.

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.

Despite the gentle forays into new styles, the universally relatable stories are still well and present, with enough morbid humour, intricately drawn character studies and down-to-earth wisdom to keep you coming back again and again.

Monument Builders is an augmented reality to spend time with, explore and get lost in.

Is Clouds In the Sky... better than Waterslide...? They both reward repeated listens so time will tell. Does it matter? No. Fans will love it, and new listeners, who fall in love on the strength of this album, have a stellar back catalogue to devour.

Seeking Thrills is an album that delivers on its initial promise, proving that the upward trajectory Georgia currently finds herself on can only continue.

The results are a timeless, genre-smashing work with a psychedelic soul.

A poignant but punchy triumph then, perfectly timed for mid-winter maladies.

You'll be happy to hear that Xtreme Now, the Brooklyn duo Princa Rama’s latest record, is just as joyously naff as any judgey pre-judger could expect.

Pink Noise is a John Hughes soundtrack just waiting for its film to be written and it’s a bold return from an artist with a point to prove.

These are sprawling works with clear focus.

Bleeds is an alt-rock urtext for Wednesday, both an entry point and a summation of their gifts: mixing the atonal with the blissful (Wound Up Here (By Holdin On)), bizarro choogle (Phish Pepsi), void-splitting hardcore (Wasp) and Low-esque slowcore (Carolina Murder Suicide).

Brick Body Kids Still Daydream offers everything you’d expect from an Open Mike Eagle album and rivals Dark Comedy for the best in his catalogue. But it’s also his most thematically coherent work yet.

Pleasingly, it’s all done with New Order/Pet Shop Boys-esque synths and beats. Dancing with tears in your eyes is still dancing.

This uncompromising obscurity will turn off some, and understandably so. Beneath that, the band are writing songs that make floating into oblivion sound appealing.

Despite being the biggest shift in her sound so far, Khan's silken touch is such that Delphi feels like a congruous and joyful addition to her oeuvre, proof of her claim that motherhood helped her tap into a previously unknown well of creativity.

Protomartyr galvanize themselves into a more driving and forceful mode on the likes of Don’t Go To Anacita and Male Plague, wherein lie some of Relatives in Descent's strongest hooks, and ultimately it’s the strength and clarity of the ideas put down that could make this their best record yet.

Whether shouting over martial drums, whispering behind thick, smoky synths or rapping against a razorwire guitar, URGH is an exercise in harrowing noise; unapologetically visceral and all the better for it.

It's a continuation of their bombastic instrumental rock, adding enough new experiments to keep things interesting, but staying close enough to their well-hewn sound to ensure a cosy familiarity.

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

Sick Scenes sees LC! offering up a liberating set of songs about odious city hipsters, youthful nostalgia and future anxiety, wrapped up in the seven-piece’s usual glorious flurry of chipper riffs and witty lyricisms.

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.

It’s Robinson’s most intimate album yet.

Portrait of My Heart channels and exudes a wild assortment of sonic influences – an approach which results in the most honest and entrancing SPELLLING record to date.art

From the John Barry-esque orchestration of Reaching Out, to Talk Talk’s Lee Harris’s febrile percussion on Rewind, the album is full of richly detailed arrangements that allow Gibbons to free herself from the pull of Portishead’s past.

Gnod continue to take no prisoners; play loud.

She blends traditional folk with experimental elements and psychedelic inflections so deftly that it is impossible to imagine it to be the product of anything other than years of dedicatedly honing her craft; the ten songs on Hard Hearted Woman might be the most potently distilled version of it yet.

Happily, this follow-up finds them operating at a similarly scintillating capacity, grinding down on the ugliness buried in the mundanity of modern life and crushing it into the wreckage of metal and post-punk.

Like any good night out Fine Art has its ups and downs, it can be deep, it can be controversial, but in the long run, it's a good laugh and a thumping good time.

Chastity Belt is proof positive that bands don’t need to simply spin the wheels when they’re going through periods of transition, waiting for the solid ground to return beneath their feet before they get going again.

December is a difficult month for many ('The countdown's started / It’s a hollow toll for the heavy hearted') and these songs are likely to resonate with those feeling adrift. How comforting they are, despite the lack of 'wise men and virgins', is an additional triumph.

The pandemic is the ghost at the feast, lyrics dotted throughout about the deep personal upheaval we have all endured both publicly and privately these past two years. Penultimate track The Worst Is Done lifts up the mood with wistful optimism, setting up the stage for the third and final album of this heart-rending saga.

Bad Witch has a more palpable vein of nihilism coursing through it than perhaps any Nine Inch Nails release since the seminal The Downward Spiral.

What makes No Grace feel most like a breezy treat is its fatalistic slant, as Phillip Taylor’s lyrics weigh up life’s daily struggles before concluding that they’re just not worth the worry.

The album caters for all – there are heavy tracks for hardcore fans and songs with a more approachable indie feel for those who need a gentle introduction to the ways of the Wolf. So sit back, relax and scream to your hearts content.

There will be much to admire for Fontaines fans, but anyone with a penchant for the poppier end of The Cure’s catalogue will also find plenty to love.

Packed with irresistible hooks and confessional lyrics, you'll find her best songs to date here; it's clear that Baby Queen understands the cinema of pop music.

Blue Rev is a return that, in a strangely radical way, simply meets expectations. ... If you wanted to experience an etherealness that was anchored in experience, it was always Alvvays. And it still is.

What sparkles most about this new album is the comfort you feel when Malkmus and his band do exactly what you expect.

With Loner, Barry Can’t Swim cements himself as a boundary-pushing voice in electronic music, one fluent in mood, movement, and meaningful reflection.

Justice may have struggled to reach the dizzying heights of their 2007 debut Cross, but Hyperdrama is a convincing, exciting venture in its own right.

Shygirl has created a project that screams for attention. It slithers through a jungle of sound. Tracks reminiscent of a shattered lullaby, or a disjointed reflection on a past relationship. Shygirl has basically created an entire genre all her own.

PHASOR is a rich and absorbing record that truly transports; placing the listener in a languid, half-lit morning where you’re never quite asleep and never fully awake.

The trio of discs add up to a surprisingly tight record, a superb summary of Cook’s work to date, and a thrilling pointer to where the future may lead.

ANNO stands as a collection that casts an old master in a new light while cementing Meredith’s place as a constantly startling and boundary-breaking contemporary composer.

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

Spiral is a more settled affair. Jaar and Harrington lean into rhythm and repetition more here, not willing to pull out the same number of jump scares just for the sake of it, a masterclass in the art of precision and withholding.

Anderson has all but perfected a very delicate balance. She presents subjects boldly and forcefully, but also with a great deal of sensitivity and thought-provoking tact. The questions she presents here will linger long after its final notes fade out.

The main shift on this album in comparison to previous work, and you feel that Wind Resistance has emboldened her to do this on record, is spoken word and storytelling.

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.

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.

Stylistically, Wanderer doesn’t break much new ground for Marshall. What is powerful about this album is her ability to imbue each word with every ounce of what she has lived--as a woman, a mother, an artis

With Where I’m Meant To Be, the jazz quintet have crafted a supremely effective call to surrender yourself to the present and celebrate life through dance.

If the 50something version of Dinosaur Jr is happy to keep refining a formula that was pretty damn fine in the first place, we’d be fools not to indulge 'em.

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

Both vivid and dreamlike, each narrative swims in and out of focus without ever being forced; the type of record to return to, again and again.

Dive in wholeheartedly; you’ll be happy to float in the outrageously catchy Whiteout Conditions for a long time to come.

Future Me Loves Me occupies a warm, energetic space between joyful hooks, melodic harmonies and lyrical substance.

Goat Girl’s London is a murkier, and at times far more unsettling place. Creep exposes a public transport pervert, complete with a 'dirty trouser stain,' atop ominous strings and fierce percussion, while The Man with No Heart or Brain is as scornful as it sounds.

Cheerfully melodic, you’d be forgiven for not noticing the dark biblical story it retells – of assault, abandonment, fear and faith. These themes persist across this sparse diaristic record, coming to the fore on the grungy, vulnerable Don’t Kiss Me. Surprises, too, sees Zeitsch reckon with how mundanely a life can be altered.

The Lookout perhaps does not give up its pleasures as easily as some of her earlier records. There are triumphs here--not least the title track which marches along at a sprightly pace graced by some lovely violin sounds. But there are also songs that worry at their subjects, circling and darting in and out of the light.

Eray’s opening haze burns out to reveal stark, staccato drums, an urgent, discordant Juno lead and almost Orbital-esque bassline, providing a fine touchpoint for Blue Hour and Earth and Elsewhere’s tech-purist soundscapes: think Aphex Twin’s Ambient Works II. They're a fine addition, though an indulgence amid an album of otherwise brilliance.

This debut LP sees English Teacher beginning to consolidate and take the already-delicious sounds introduced on their Polyawkward EP to even greater heights.

Lovers may be a break-up album, but it’s one full of optimism, and more than a few catchy pop choruses.

On Solide Mirage however, they’ve emerged in full bloom on the other side, making for a confident and consistent record that should be a great entry point for newcomers.

His best yet? Perhaps. For the first time ever, the Sheffield hero has chosen not to name the record after a local landmark close to his heart--the irony being, he's never sounded more at home.

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.

While Romare is a master when it comes to constructing unique and unusual sounds in his music (the opening of his old single Roots for example), sometimes this can be more abrasive than enjoyable--New Love, we're looking at you. Overall though, this is a warm piece of percussive and melodic greatness.

Ok, some of their sillier excesses may jar ever so slightly (unicorns, faeries, witches, wizards and frogs with demon eyes can all be found here, so some strapping yourself in may be required) and fans may well feel the absence of a true pop banger à la Race For The Prize or She Don’t Use Jelly. In every other aspect, however, this is The Flaming Lips on top of their game: refracting the weirdness of the world through a youthful sense of awe and wonder.

Greentea Peng’s debut album Man Made captures a central paradox from the past year: the compulsion to turn inward, brought on by the psychological fallout from living through the pandemic, and the need to look outward at the inequalities that have been brought into sharp focus.

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.

Minor frustrations do present, though they are quickly dispersed. ALL SHE EVER WANTED, which feels like disposable Radio 1 fodder, transitions into HATE and DEAR IMMIGRATION, pillars of brilliance from which BERWYN confronts systems of power that engage in active oppression: moments that affirm BERWYN’s voice and salience as an important figure in British music.

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.

King of Cowards progresses in a highly pleasing way as lead vocalist Matt Baty lyrically explores the seven deadly sins across the record's six tracks. This is metal bursting with imagination and innovation.

On choke enough, Oklou's mature and assured debut album, any potential bombast is subdued, like it was recorded underwater.

There are still plenty of the magic, chaotic choruses that set alight their live shows, but in between are touching moments of melancholy, frustration and imagination.

Here, there are some of the sweetest songs Jurado has ever recorded.

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

Characteristically textbook Death Cab – dolloping shimmering guitars atop stomping percussion, as decadent choruses burst through nostalgic lyricism like an uncontainable smile. Their knack for spry, melancholic indie-rock remains unrivalled and makes for yet another memorable release.

Filthy Friends have made a record to remind us all what music can aspire to.

A difficult but thrilling listen.

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.

Three albums in, they’ve attained a mastery of their craft that’s a joy to behold.

While the subject matter and style aren't vastly different to anything Kathryn Joseph’s done before, the progression here is more of a tasteful expansion of what came before it. In terms of finding new ways to express oneself with honesty while staying true to what makes you special, this album is a roaring success.

Not only are the band adding to their soundtrack credentials but they're also getting rather good at the old pop banger.

Le Kov is a cinematic and atmospheric collection, crisply produced while also maintaining a sense of mystery. Its cosmic blend of psychedelia and strong synth-pop sensibilities once again bring the listener firmly into Gwenno’s psychological territory.

Nothing remains a heady listen, but there’s an embodied immediacy that’ll make it easy to return to when the sun hits our skin again.

Redirecting the euphoric energy of the club toward creative ends, City of Clowns is a rallying call for a more humane digital future.

While a few of the songs feel somewhat repetitive, they are more than compensated for with the experimentation and risk-taking on tracks like Angel Like You and Could Be Machine.

All up, it’s an energetic, accomplished debut from a group of highly-seasoned musicians, making Flat Worms an emerging outfit with a fuck-tonne of punked-up potential.

It's a little front-loaded as the first three songs are by far the most immediate (except Witness and Pour Another) and memorable. But luckily, Tall Poppies anchors the closing songs with its six-plus minutes (nothing else exceeds four), painting a grim portrait of dreary, provincial life without being condescending (ahem, Model Village) or reductive (Glory Days).

Cala is a beautifully crafted addition to his collection. The record will appeal to those who enjoy soothing melodies and imaginative lyrics, as the Irishman continues to follow his own wonderful path.

It’s an album of growers, taking its time to reach unconventional climaxes. But there’s nothing fluffy about it; Jordan’s delivery is clean, precise and exudes confidence well beyond her years.

Grizzling, fuzzy guitars occupy a large amount of the album lead parts and chord shifts between major and minor mix up the mood while still retaining a positive outlook and feeling of cheery hopefulness. It’s short, sweet and easily one of the band’s best efforts to date.