There’s new ground covered in the disco funk of Evan Finds the Third Room and the slow dance of album closer Friday Morning. Mostly, though, Con Todo el Mundo is a celebration of what shared creativity and influence can bring--something the world needs a bit more of these days.

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.

'Eclectic' is the word you want to use to describe the sounds on Where the Action Is, but it feels lazy to put a label on an album that moves the listener in every way a person can be moved. But, if you insist, let's file The Waterboys' 13th record in the box marked 'their best for years'. It really is.

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.

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

When it works well on the record it’s sublime, these snapshots sculpting little scenes, feeding just enough to intrigue but remain elusive. .... However, when it doesn’t connect, as on THE CUT DEPICTS THE CUT, these mutations feel needy, like they're born out of a fear the listener will get bored if there aren’t fireworks every 15 seconds, rather than it being necessarily what is best for the song.

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

Boat is a triumphant debut album because it’s both familiar and authentic. And when you have a melodic impulse that shines as brightly as this, you can’t really go wrong.

TILT is definitely missing the cool, camp interjections of Sugar Bones that were more prominent on their debut. Still, Conman has delivered yet another non-stop album that is guaranteed to raise the bar of your next party.

Toy is a more-than-worthy successor to last year’s excellent Pile opus, gnawing away at your affections with carefree abandon--an oversized canine you’ll be glad to see off the leash.

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.

Bottle It In calmly addresses rough themes with maturity and elegance. On his seventh solo album, Kurt Vile discards the negativity, generating an affirmative landscape of awareness.

This is a record that feels handcrafted for the fans that waited so long for new material. Had you already previously invested in their icy yet sleek sound, then Ladytron is a welcome, if not wholly groundbreaking, return.

Unfortunately, it seems like the record's runtime was set before material was allotted to the space, unleashing a high-octane sugar rush in a space fit to dilute it into the unbearableness of being palatable. There are worse things.

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.

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.

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

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.

By committing to one idea Maus has found a focal point around which to craft his own musical identity.

Skullqueen and Electra Rex mix serenity and apocalypse to excellent effect, with the latter indulging in the manic pitch-shifting you've come to expect from Arca. But the quieter cuts are also nice, like the Björk-ish Joya and hip-hop inflected Señorita (co-written with Max Tundra!).

Whilst it’s fair to say that the offering has been fine-tuned somewhat (frontwoman Lili Trifilio has all but ditched the Courtney Barnett schtick in favour of a far more direct punk-pop far closer in tone to early Paramore), it’s still a solid effort.

Certainly a contender for the most electronic of their canon, Boy King is perhaps also their most compact and claustrophobic release since 2011’s Smother.

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

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

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.

Amid dense waves of sludgy guitar the classically trained singer manages to make herself heard, hinting at the resilience required to endure in a world that demands too much. Then the album exhales, shifting from confrontation to contemplation. What follows is a gentler, but no less affecting suite of slowcore ballads.

The record ultimately feels like something of a minor work in James’s already imposing output, but remains a pointer to both her and Eastman’s sparkling talents.

Giannopoulos’ writing here has a dark intensity. But by closer Nude Descending, he has opened up to softness: 'I felt like needing your embrace'. The guitars are suddenly frolicking and playful. It’s that crack of hope that permeates the best slowcore.

A raucous expression of love, TANGK is raw, vulnerable and inimitably IDLES.

Seven years on from their first record, Shopping are still giving audacious levels of energy. It would be interesting to see the band develop their electronic experiments even further in their next album; though All or Nothing builds on its predecessor, it only gives us a taste of what the trio can do when left alone with a synth.

At its best, Time's Arrow is mystical but commanding, with electric synthscapes pulling you deeper inward. However, at times the sonic landscape they’ve created risks suffocation, leaving little room for manoeuvre between one song to the next – a lighter touch in areas could stand to draw out more subtle nuances and make for a more compelling journey overall.

Even at the midpoint meltdown of Pain’s insistent fuzz-mangling, it's all sumptuously glazed with a thick veneer of moreish melody and buzzing hooks.

This is a record made by people who you sense are full of all of the possibilities of the world, looking to cram it all in and make some fine music as a soundtrack. They've done a pretty great job so far.

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.

It’s a confident, competent step forwards from a sure-footed talent, earning its repeat listens through mature considerations. And there will be repeat listens--just you try not to.

While Mr So and So shows the gig perv no mercy, elsewhere Hanna’s bonehead-nailing, predudice-lancing manifesto reverberates, as ever, with humanity and truth.

In short, they make experimental rock sound so easy when the reality is anything but.

Although there’s a clarity and confidence in the slower pace of Lips That Bite and the darker post-punk textures of Somos Chulas (No Somos Pendejas) (translating roughly as 'We’re Elegant/Intelligent (We’re Not Dumb)')--sensing that Downtown Boys are capable of ever greater ferocity, you just want to urge them on even further.

Where Boy King explored the toxic expectations of modern masculinity, Punk Drunk... runs almost like a case study; a romantic encounter in microcosm.

All told, it’s a finely wrought collection that could appeal to fans of The Decemberists or Vetiver as much as some of those longer-in-the-tooth bands.

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

It’s a smooth ride for the most part but sometimes you just wish whoever's driving this thing would find a decent station and stick with it.

Constance’s empathy is radiant as her lyrics are brought to the fore by way of a minimal guitar-led backing. Her emotional intellect is demonstrated through her articulation of mental health and personal struggles.

Its exceptional use of Radio Serial-like synth wobbles and pulses paint a vivid vision of mind-bending power and the destruction left in its wake; amplified by gorgeously dramatic bursts of symphony and chorus. A real gem.

Permanent Damage is a thoroughly impressive and self-aware debut from an artist who is unafraid to wrestle with feelings of loneliness, alienation, and self-destructive tendencies out in the open.

Name Your Sorrow sees band-wide experimentation, instrument swapping, and post-production revision, resulting in a colourful, varied record.

The vulnerable romance of Falling In Love Again and tactile tenderness of Don’t Drown Me Out make for welcome detours in a collection of songs that is led so intensely by strut-worthy rhythms and that raw bad-boy edge.

It ["Black Orpheus"] is powerful, but in truth, it's the one track that doesn't feel unfinished, as Barnes' voice finally rises above the overwhelming mix that he's buried under throughout the album.

An enjoyable if low-key listen that consolidates rather than shakes Stables’ current status.

It feels like a cathartic release, where she faces her fear of disasters head-on – through floods, tornadoes and burning cars – and she firmly places us within that world right alongside her.

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

Sleater-Kinney’s decade-spanning songwriting style feels the same. Give us the electrifying assault and brutal guitar tones to fill those tiny cracks now present in our hearts. Give us a little more rope.

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.

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

Moments of rock brilliance are scarce. Your Take On, with dissonant 60s-esque guitars and talk-singing, is a jolt from whisper-soft vocals surrounding 2022’s Inner World Peace. Later tracks see development sacrificed for quantity. Despite treading familiar territory, Different Talking’s soothing melodies are tailor-made to accompany life's quiet corners.

On its own merit, Part 1 is yet another banger-laden album, from an indie-rock machine who are now firmly established as one of the most consistent in their scene.

More than simply aging gracefully, A Bit of Previous suggests Belle and Sebastian still have enough hooks for several lifetimes.

It’s certainly an assured debut, impeccably written and produced in a way that captures the singer as both youthful and soulful. Her voice is light and airy, with her distinctive vowel sounds giving a fresh spin to even the simplest of lyrics.

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

On The Seduction of Kansas they thrillingly disrobe of any of the negative connotations that might, usually wrongly, come along with that phrase “political punks”; namely extreme directness and a sense of lacking musicality, as the band explores new identities both narratively and stylistically.

Laus bravely embraces her imagined world through not only sonic exploration but its successful discovery too. She soars through a variety of tones, including lullaby-like ballads, jittery jazz-infused pop, moving midwest emo and, of course, prickly post-rock.

Their control is immaculate, their romanticism timeless.

Despite the seriousness of the lyrics, I can feel you creep into my private life manages to remain an uplifting album, with a collection of intricately-crafted pop songs that tackle a range of important current issues.

A record that speaks to notions of presence and absence, and the impermanence that underpins all things.

Much of the album remains true (or close enough) to the original arrangements, and you get a real sense that Oldham's singing these songs simply because he loves them and thinks other people should too. While that doesn't make for essential listening, it undoubtedly makes for an enjoyable and almost comforting experience.

At times perhaps overly conceptual--Honeymooning Alone needlessly hammers the point home--The Bride also lacks more standout cuts to truly make it soar. There’s nevertheless plenty to appreciate here; just don’t expect much in the way of wedding playlist material.

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.

TOY continue to put their own unique spin on psychedelia with Happy in the Hollow, and it’s one that clearly works, but ultimately the record lacks in any kind of urgency and doesn’t push much further on what the band have already achieved with previous albums.

It’s uneven, certainly, but worth panning for the gold.

With this slice of US college rock, tinged with British humour, the band prove that they can maintain this essential quality of their sound, even as they mature.

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.

For all her DIY charms, Next Thing continues to give credence to the view that the home studio environment might not quite meet the requirements of a songwriter blessed with such precocious talent.

Light Information is a mixed bag of indie rock gems, ramshackle in sound and structure, but there are clear lyrical themes.

If you’re a fan, rest easy knowing that PABH have done good. The Haze is their best yet. For the rest of you, make a bonfire of your Foo Fighters, Biffy Clyro and Bring Me the Horizon records. You’ve got no need for them anymore. PABH are it.

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

While Dance On the Blacktop is a fair attempt at taking forward their sound, unfortunately, it feels more like a regression.

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.

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.

Nap Eyes are mostly concise in their wanderings, but occasionally meander too far from the path.

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

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.

This is less innovation, more a soothing collection of unpretentious porch songs, delivered in superb fashion.

This is the band's darkest material yet. Opener, The Supremacy of Pure Artistic Feeling is an instant statement of the band's simultaneous deviousness and gorgeousness, which is a feeling that never really lets up over its 40 minutes until the seemingly krautrock-influenced The Right Kind of Adult. Come join the family.

Pax Americana is something of a mixed bag of a return for Bratten. Its short runtime and nature as a mix of already released and new material making it feel more like an elongated EP than a cohesive album. It’s a record that takes its time shaking off a clawing desire to replicate its influences, but ultimately finds the form that led to Bratten’s best work again.

A striking fusion of psychedelic rap and R'n'B. Peng balances otherworldly soundscapes with lyrics that bleed with vulnerability.

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.

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

What follows is a 14-track reintroduction to everything that makes Les Savy Fav so unique: tightly-knit duelling guitars, an impactful rhythm section and frontman Tim Harrington's vociferous delivery and wordplay. Legendary Tippers is full of the ironic swagger we've come to expect, while Don't Mind Me finds room for rare vulnerability

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 is a record packed to the brim with guest vocalists and layers of instrumentation, all sitting on top of rock-solid yet unpredictable grooves.

There's a nod to Brexitannia in the shape of Dark Days Are Here Again but much of Office Politics feels like old jokes, filler songs in wobbly theatre productions and laboured punning.

Love Hates achieves a mature tone, complemented perfectly by Roberts' gruff vocals and Hoorn's velvety melodies. Arguably, it's Hoorn’s increased presence on the record that lends this new air of grace.

Ultimately, at a drone-heavy run-time of over an hour, Dear isn't much of a fun prospect for a summer album.

ASIWYFA haven’t reinvented the wheel with this album, but it’s a worthy addition to an increasingly accomplished body of work.

Twenty years on, The Dears still have a vital, driving passion that deserves a wider UK audience.

As a whole this is a moving and interesting new project, proving that the end of a relationship can lead to something new and exciting.

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.

The duo commit to a kind of 90s-coded insouciance: lethargic vocals draped over a club-ready chassis and an occasionally unconvincing refusal to try too hard. For a band sold as the city’s next great party-starters, a lot of 'Ö' feels oddly undercooked.