Dare we say that Willner’s beats, moods and tempos are more consistent this time out, lending The Follower a much easier inroad on first listen.

Without doubt, Oxy Music honours Cameron’s skill as a storyteller, and his unique ability to embed some of the most outlandish lines into sanguine melodies.

Dulcet and sensitive, high on love and open to change, Nao expresses it all in vulnerable communion on Jupiter: the collapse, the calm, and the ascension.

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.

Moments of despair are gorgeously balanced by tight, optimistic motifs that are dotted throughout the record.

Down By the Stream discusses bullying and abuse, while Blackpool Illuminations is a seven-minute track about Smith’s childhood at the iconic event. It’s structures like Where’s My Utopia? that make an album stand out, as does its sense of hope and perseverance, with the overall message that one’s struggles and emotions are valid.

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

The entire album is a triumphant showcase on how to master percussion, and the finished result is a dreamy 53 minutes that seems to end as quickly as it began. Stunning.

Solo Piano III is colourful and humorous; the sheer musicality of the work is astounding, bringing the listener as close to contentment as music possibly can.

Perverts is Hayden Anhedönia’s first big step in establishing Ethel Cain as a character, a world and an idea, not just another ephemeral popstar pseudonym.

This is a stunning vocal experiment, one that constructs immaculate, dreamt and abundant worlds.

It was inspired partly from the loss of close friends, but the mood is rarely sombre. More it seems to have galvanised McCombs' focus, adding a heft of sincerity to his occasionally flippant style.

YTILAER meanders through moods, from melancholic to tumultuous to mellow and easy. Often, the songs take time to reveal their true nature: Naked Souls begins as a gentle jazz ballad over piano, gradually building as other instruments join to become explosive. But elsewhere (Coyotes, Natural Information), it is simply joyful listening from the first beat.

Like its name, Billie Marten's fifth album is one to be dog-eared – revisited, rediscovered, and cherished.

WOOF. is an intense joy, and absolute in establishing Fat Dog. It can, however, hit the same notes throughout.

White Lies have succeeded in creating an album with much more scope that is a testament to the enduring nature of their sound. Five denotes a chapter in the band’s career but it does by no means symbolise the end of White Lies.

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.

Brooding and hypnotic, I Was Born Swimming is delicately sombre, yet diverse in such a way that evades any risk of tedium.

Double Negative is a magnificent and courageous record, if you’re ready for it.

The resulting album, Saviors, is a hugely entertaining return to form, with some of the seminal American rockers' best music in decades.

Every Loser is lyrically and technically multidimensional.

Nueen’s understated drill elements bring a benevolent, tense space that Iceboy Violet has complemented with their lyrical expanse.

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.

Across its concise 42 minutes they move from shimmering electronics, and sounds akin to techno, to more ambient waves, with each mood laid across a foundation of intricate, textured layers of sound that seem to continually reveal themselves over repeated listens. Blink and you could easily miss a detail, but Selling will keep drawing you back to discover all of their secrets.

Big Thief aren’t the sort of band that will always hit you suddenly, such is their subtlety and restraint, but on Capacity they prove that when they do it’s powerful and memorable.

Produced by Bernard Butler, its ten tracks hum with greedy ambition.

Hval’s most personal record, Blood Bitch is an understated but intriguing album by a perpetually fascinating artist.

Bark Your Head Off, Dog is another great Hop Along album, intimate and grand in a way only few can do.

While the material is scarce, the quality is a renewable resource on par with a nuclear fusion plant. Choruses hum, drumlines bounce, and there's always enough subversion for leftovers.

Much more than mere offcuts, Great Thunder instead offers some stunning moments from Waxahatchee with Katie Crutchfield at her most off guard and most personal.

There's a real vulnerability to Taylor's voice, too, reminding us of his mastery of light and shade. Rennen is more thought-provoking than its predecessor, but it's still unmistakably SOHN.

Closing track aside, everything else on Loud Patterns is threaded through with intriguing noises and the kind of urgency you can only get from a live band, making for quite a unique sounding dance record which sits comfortably on the shelf alongside the likes of Caribou and Gold Panda.

The wit and wisdom of Moffat is about as sharp as ever here and ‘Hubby’ is clearly at the top of his game.

Consistently flowing from heartfelt numbers to classic electrifying rock, Futique is one of Biffy's most personal albums to date, cementing their status as one of the country’s most iconic bands.

It's a study of musical form that is innovative in its approach and experimentation.

Home In Another Life keeps you coming back for more.

With The Jacket, Widowspeak prove once again they can find the irresistible spot between timeless and fresh. It might not be littered with huge, unforgettable moments, but the spell it casts lingers long after the music has finished.

A well-crafted album.

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.

There are memorable lines galore if you can keep up with Lunny's runaway train delivery.

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.

It takes multiple listens to get to the heart of this record, each one well worth your time.

Despite its name, there’s nothing ambiguous about Tune-Yards’ return. They’re back with bombast and the permission to take a breather if it all gets too much.

La Dispute are titans of their scene, but they’re also lyricists of the highest calibre, writing songs many will confide in. Album number four isn’t a drastic change in direction, but it reaches heights when their powerful words lash the mind.

This album is dad rock for my generation in the best way. Having come of age alongside The Black Keys' early hits, I'm finding resonances in their work again.

forevher is an excellent comeback from Shura, proving that she is more than the sum of her capacity to go viral.

The record oscillates between earthly comforts (In the Hallway / Keeper of the Garden) and galactical ponderings (Map to the Stars), but Mannequin--a charming, disquieting simile for a claustrophobic relationship--best shows off Mondanile's ambition to step out on his own terms.

A dozen records deep in their career, we find Lambchop at their most adventurous, and it sounds wonderful.

Oxygene 3 is a minimalist--and exquisitely melancholy--wonder.

This album offers a view into the minds of a pair of singular artists who might differ in their delivery, but who both understand that a glimpse of truth is a whole lot more intriguing than a disingenuous attempt at the whole thing.

Means is shadowed and dizzying, sour and fleeting. The album captures the essence of an indie sound that's almost universally considered to be jaded, and proves that the genre may be weatherworn, but its framework is ripe for a renovation.

While it may not break entirely new ground, this album’s embrace of mordant textures and restrained warmth – weaponised on album closer and sonic bath David – cements it as consistently compelling and quietly brilliant.

Silver Tongue may prove to be a bridge, between a time of turbulence and a period of renewed creative independence. However, even in that, this record is proof that she can remain uncompromisingly herself.

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.

By the time you hit Coldblooded The Return, you can't help but feel you've been on a journey in the company of someone a little more well-travelled. You've had a time. And the best thing about it is that you can take that journey again any damn time you feel like it.

This is the work of an artist who's been honing his craft for some time now, and is perfectly primed for his moment in the spotlight.

There is a timeless and timely feel to these tunes and it sounds as if something stately is stirring in West Kirby. Good health, indeed.

Will is a deeply dramatic showcase throughout--Barwick's vision might have its foundation in traditional forms but the way in which she deconstructs and rebuilds is a distinctly renegade act.

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.

Tying everything together is the mood of the whole piece--it’s a pastel kaleidoscope, summery and light on its feet throughout. But broadly, you can hive off Koenig’s songwriting predispositions into one of two categories--60s-indebted pop, and R'n'B-inflected experimentalism.

Overall, and despite a brief lull, Babes Never Die is enjoyable from beginning to end. Peppered with catchy choruses and heroic riffs, and with sing-along moments galore, it's much fuller, better rounded and more complete than 2014's Honeyblood.

Harris says these songs were recorded over a brief but intense period brought to an unexpected stop thanks to a high fever. The album itself is much like that – fleeting, over before you can catch your breath. But, an imprint of something – a distinct mark you’re not quite sure the meaning of--is left behind.

Suffocating, stressful, and challenging, Splendor & Misery is uncompromising in its desolation, and it’s all the better for it.

The Arctic Monkeys of old are long gone and so too should any expectations of them returning to dirty dancefloors. With The Car, the band become increasingly comfortable in their lounge-laden musical attire.

These songs are raw and beautiful. Glaspy's voice is roughened, tremulous and hypnotic. Her guitar playing is characterful and advanced. Be sure to leave a space on those end-of-year lists.

It's a sage document precisely because it embraces that which can’t be figured out: what life has next in store.

Ruins doesn't aim to re-write the indie-folk/country rule book, rather, the Söderberg sisters are just fine-tuning their craft and growing into a comfortable groove.

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

Warmly mature yet never dull, this is a rare treat.

A nourishing balm of self-acceptance, Cautionary Tales of Youth is a full-throttled call to open up to vulnerability instead of shutting yourself off.

Bulat performs with passion and authority. Ten songs and not a hint of filler.

It takes courage to remain open, and Big Thief lead us gently from the beaten path and into the wilderness with U.F.O.F. There are lessons to be learned underwater, in the cold and among the shadows.

It’s varied, it’s vibrant, it’s wacky, it’s experiential. Loss of Life, contrary to its title, is brimming with the stuff and serves as unmistakable evidence of MGMT’s continued renaissance.

Late Developers is not simply a collection of offcuts but a catchier and more diverse collection than its companion piece. It finds the group pulling at the threads around the edges of their sound and, in a couple of cases, striding out into new territory.

Murry's singular talent makes sure this record never sinks beneath the weight of its influences.

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.

A record that thrives on its biocentric themes, it’s one you won’t want to leave behind.

It’s noisy, it’s militant, it’s human, and it’s a time capsule for the year you’re already burning an effigy of. Get it while it’s hot.

It could read as overstuffed – and at times, it can feel that way – but the sheer force of performance and skilled production more than carry the album.

The record sounds warm, full and flirty; the snares hit you, the bass bounces and harmonicas and organs are as bright as California stars.

Musically, it’s varied and adventurous; thematically, it sees the world’s present darkness and raises it hope. A vital record.

A memorable addition to Chasny’s admirable body of work.

The best indie rock songs can often lean on the shorter side, giving in to the sugar rush of instantly memorable riffs. But Jordan has no qualms about letting her songs draw out, as they do on Lush. That’s because she always has something important to say and it’s worth listening.

Hug of Thunder ploughs through emotional highs and lows with an empathetic grace, sometimes decorating its more dramatic moments with swells of brass, ditto its out-and-out rock’n’roll cuts; elsewhere they just let everything hang loose on a light robo-funk groove.

Yawny Yawn finds Ryder-Jones parting ways with every instrument that, on Yawn, did more than simply accentuate the trauma, resignation, fondness and care colouring his vocals. For the most part, this is an incredibly rewarding endeavour, as Ryder-Jones' painful words are brought, emotively, to the forefront, though the deceptively similar pace and ambience of a few songs may frustrate those who aren't listening intently.

The More I Sleep follows on nicely from their earlier releases, channelling them in a consciously reflective manner, and harnessing their typical dissonance while also not feeling as frantic in places as its predecessors.

At nine tracks and 27 minutes long, Highway Songs isn't the longest of albums, an element that's perhaps suggestive of the brief period documented by these songs. The best is saved for last, though, as Pajo's true shot at self-redemption makes for a stunning close.

Featuring guest stars such as Joey Santiago, Teri Gender Bender and Anna Waronker, A Walk With Love and Death is like a one-stop shop of everything to love, hate and feel infuriated by about Melvins.

As an album, If Words Were Flowers won’t win Harding any new fans but it is a contemplative, thoughtful exploration of modern love through the prism of traditionalist soul.

Aldous Harding's fifth album doesn't deviate much from her winning formula, but there are small flourishes peppered throughout to keep it feeling fresh.

It’s invigorating and profound, mapping a sonic current which traverses moments of gently unfolding beauty (The Quietest Shore) and even brassy grandiosity (particularly on the widescreen projections of Exquisite Human Microphone).

It’s testament to Clark’s self-assured and enigmatic oeuvre: indeed, she still holds surprises for us yet.

Less cinematic than Luppi’s previous work in scope and style, MILANO is an intimate collection of snapshots about life in a certain place at a certain time. It’s insightful, invigorating, and honest.

Ultimately, like the Henry Moore sculptures she mentions near the album’s end, Harding’s songs can be as mundanely lifelike from afar as they are strangely alien up close.

Better Oblivion Community Center isn’t an obvious step forward for either artist but it’s a generous and grounded collection of songs, showcasing the complementary talents of two of America’s most talented songwriters. By the crackling close of final track Dominos, you’re more than glad they opened their doors.

Remarkably generous in its open nature, it further cements Jacklin’s place as a future alt-country great.

Despite its brevity Anoyo contains some of the most straightforwardly beautiful music Hecker has made in some time, and makes for a strong companion and continuation to the themes and sonic developments made on Konoyo.

Sunshine in music form, A LA SALA is another stellar addition to Khruangbin’s blissful repertoire.