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.

Semper Femina continues her decade-long hot streak with another collection of finely wrought vignettes on love, loss, and the empowerment that can be found in both.

L.A. Witch's dreamy, gothic take on garage rock is more about atmosphere than message, but you'll find plenty of devil in their details.

While there are some tracks that feel distinctly like filler, there's more than enough substance on Why Lawd? to justify the price of admission. Let's hope we don't have to wait another eight years for this duo to get together again.

Distinctive and likely divisive, some spots showcase the most original beat-work you'll hear this year.

Still, the beating heart behind The Kid is the curiosity and delight that Smith brings to her meticulous electronic compositions.

The production is pristine, while none of her lo-fi charm has been lost. My Method Actor is a triumph on all counts.

This time it’s only a partial reinvention, but by the time the huge guitars and stereo panning of One More Hour fade away, there’s no doubt that Kevin Parker is a man with his own unique sense of time.

From Appalachian folk song Golden Willow Tree to shape-note tunes like I'm On My Journey Home, Amidon preserves the melodic integrity of his source material while allowing foreign tones and textures to seep in.

It’s perhaps convenient journalistic twaddle to suggest Great Ytene's loss of their initial recordings for this LP means that Locus feels desperate to get out of the traps, but there’s no denying the irresistible energy on show here.

As protest albums go, it’s a strange one, but if this is what the revolution sounds like: sign us up.

Forever Howlong sees Black Country, New Road take their individualistic aura another gallant stride forward. What comes next is anyone’s guess.

It’s the soundtrack to our most outlandish dreams, perhaps the exit music to the unmade film of our most romantic lives. If you're still to discover Radiohead, listen to this, for it's the perfect way in.

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

Fall Into the Sun, while bursting with bounce and youthfulness, is a maturation, tweaking the aesthetic that brought them a loyal band of cult followers using a long-developed confidence.

Not quite Hertz’s most dazzling work, but another string to the bow for one of electronic music’s most intriguing artists.

Eno Williams and crew up the ante on all fronts for Uyai; the percussion races forward while the arrangements are busier and more ambitious, each tune twisting and turning through rhythm changes and back-to-back riffs like a living thing.

The heavier tracks are the album's most interesting moments, allowing for singer Nicola Kearey to stomp out her vocals with extreme force.

An album imbued with heartfelt sentiments, both expressed and inexpressible, At the Party with My Brown Friends is at once earnest, rippling with intensity, and a refreshing summer soundtrack. It’s a colossal forward-step for BBES, but one that keeps intact, and sees Paul’s unique artistic vision flourishing.

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.

It’s an album that’s at times danceable and at others meditative, but always filled with emotional honesty.

The album is an expertly crafted assault on the fallacy that ignorance is bliss, an eye-opening invitation to see our society for what it really is. Bliss is overrated anyway.

A cathartic release following years of volatility and instability. It feels like the most important record of his career, as he works through his internal and external conflicts to, ultimately, find peace.

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.

It’s these 12 weary waltzes and bright ballads, written gazing upon the sea from the window of his Cellardyke studio, that will find their way into your heart forever.

Like a Russian doll which opens to reveal evermore intimate and foetal musings on communication, self-awareness and comfort, this debut album has, at its core, that which sits on its surface: raw, honest emotion. It wears its heart on its sleeve.

Further instrumentation was added with care afterwards, but the skeleton of each song can still be discerned, pleasingly, like a pencil sketch beneath watercolours.

All the hallmarks of Omni’s debut are present and correct: jaunty, stop/start arrangements, intense guitar melodies, muffled vocals and a propensity for the poppier side of post-punk. It doesn’t quite have anything as immediately appealing as Afterlife here, in fact it’s much more of a grower, but over time Multi-task proves itself to be a triumphant lesson in post-punk authenticity.

Produced by Remy and recorded live with 20 session musicians, Heavy Light is rich, textured and sonically huge.

With four years between their debut Rice, Pasta and Other Fillers, Every Bad is similarly anxious and seeking validation, endearing itself desperately to any listener who’s ever felt the same way.

This is actually a great record, because Black Lips are the sort of band that can pull off preening and rambunctious in the same album (sometimes even in the same song).

The album spans TikTok pop to grunge and lots in between. De Souza commits to them all.

What remains from their early work is their command of atmosphere. What’s new is a real prestige in the instrumentation, felt in the soaring interlude on Mr Cold Embrace, the restrained build of Something’s Broken and in the scuzzy layered guitars on the thrillingly furious Roobosh.

While Deportation Blues may have come from that place of great turmoil, it also further magnifies the dynamism and creativity that underpins BC Camplight’s work.

The album doesn’t make for a grand departure from Let’s Eat Grandma’s sound, though fans of the band will have no problem hearing about what Hollingworth got up to on her holiday.

In lesser hands, it might come off as an overwrought and incongruous addendum, but the piccolo and flugelhorn, rolling funk and string quartet that have peppered the album demonstrate that the band aren't simply flirting with new directions, but wholeheartedly embracing them.

In Spades is all Whigs. Dulli has never sounded better. If you ever loved the Whigs you will love this.

ears to Burn establishes itself as something more than just two different artists working together – neither Iron & Wine nor Calexico needs to win the crown. It’s just a great album of great songs that is bound to bring new fans to the work of both.

Rozi Plain is miles away from the sedate folk of her early career, though the subtle interpolation of additional elements is so masterfully done that she makes it look easy.

There’s not much depth to the lyrics. But when it sounds this good, who cares?

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).

Her voice is excellent throughout – defiant and unwavering over Littmann's production – and sonically it is patient, cinematic and hopeful. A refuge, perhaps, for anyone who has been on the receiving end of the confounding and cosmic world of grief.

This is James standing alongside the people who inspire her and made her feel like she belongs. That confidence pays off on closing track See Through, where James strips everything back. She stands alone, finally at ease with herself.

The result is intimate and arresting.

There’s a buoyant urgency to proceedings, the kind of detail in the lyrics that let you know here is a person telling you stories of the world as they see them in a way that is fiercely meant.

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

Orquídeas is a display of bravura. Between Kali Uchis’ plurality of sound, empowered directives, and dance-inducing hypnosis – this is an entire album of sweet spots.

Not everything here works; the album’s middle section gets a little too bogged down in the weeds to the point of distraction. However, the final stretch sees a thrilling switch to route one, such as the climax of Third Double or the excellent Favoured Over The Ride.

One of his greatest talents is his ability to craft an album that takes the listener places. Health is no exception; like all greats it grows on you the more you listen.

It never feels like an escapist project. It becomes an expression of the bleed between the unconscious and the world around us, through often beautiful, always unsettling music.

III is a record for getting lost in your thoughts, rather than losing your mind on the floor.

As ever, the potent gallows humour of The Peace And Truce... derives not from flaneur-ish observation, but from direct experience.

Unlike He’s Got the Whole...--and indeed much of the Joan of Arc discography--it’s a stylistically cohesive effort too, primarily consisting of Ausikaitis delivering lilting, honeyed to the point of saccharine vocals over undulating, ambient backdrops.

Downey has captured something that you’d perhaps have to call 'Caledoniana' – Scottish country with a pure heart.

The cut-deep lyrics throughout the record paired with well-crafted sounds are sad, yet comforting. Cassyette has created an album that lyrically feels like a shoulder to cry on while sonically is an empowering outburst of rock.

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.

A compilation of 13 new recordings of past songs and covers, Mayonnaise--and its Hellmann’s inspired cover art--are as buttery smooth as the well-known dressing. The recording is as clear and intimate as a living room concert, which is a treat, as Deer Tick is one group whose touring has made them terrific showmen.

Through it all, Let’s Eat Grandma encapsulate the agony and ecstasy of youth--and even more besides--in constantly dynamic ways that demand your attention. You’ll be all ears.

It's a mature album that is more likely to make you lean in to hear (as with the loud/quiet dynamics on Become The Earth) than beg for your attention. But there's ample reward in giving a little time to Feist.

Erez’s songwriting is clever, nuanced and often packed with wit. On KIDS she shows how far she's come in crafting her sound in just a few short years.

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).

The beats are heavy, spare, and hard. Lamar demonstrates the versatility of his flow.

The Nothing is a record that comes at you like a wood-burning stove. The band are unafraid to experiment and there are frequently moments of affecting dissonance but the dissonance is paired with a simple distracting prettiness that beguiles and transports.

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.

It’s all reassuringly consistent and distinctively Baths, managing to be both personal and kinetic as well as fantastical and otherworldly. He may not have switched up his style between albums, but now with this hat-trick of gems, there’s no 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 House is an album of rare balance and beauty, managing to evoke hefty emotions and ideas while still feeling slight and ephemeral, never forgetting that this could all slip through your fingers at any moment.

With original Stereolab drummer Joe Dilworth also involved, there’s the feel of an avant-noise supergroup when DeerHunter’s Bradford Cox and Spacemen 3’s Sonic Boom lend some typically out-there contributions. Deeply sublime.

The dense barrage of Honey Water recalls the smoky alt-rock of Zauner’s second album Soft Sounds from Another Planet, while Picture Window is a much brighter, busier tangle of country, rock and pop. Closing track Magic Mountain paints another gorgeous cinematic soundscape, scattered with clusters of celestial chimes.

The results are rewarding. Could We Be More is a finely crafted unit that takes KOKOROKO’s span of influences (highlife and afrobeat in the vein of Fela Kuti and Ebo Taylor; a solid education in jazz; the entire city of London) and spins them through a dream machine of sorts.

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

Human Performance might have sacrificed the band's rickety immediacy, but they compensate with wise, grass-stalk chewing authority and grubby, plentiful hooks.

An album that captures the rise and fall of restless youth in a fluorescent, dazzling city.

Bang is a truly original debut album that burns bright with emotion and wild imagination, confirming Zajac as one of Scotland’s most fearless and intriguing new voices.

Ben Watt’s restrained piano and taut, anxiety-laden synths hang back so Thorn can carry the weight. She’s more than up to the task – her voice now fuller, deeper, enriched by experience, and perfectly suited to narrations about seeking light in the darkness.

Snapshot of a Beginner might be their most focused and uplifting release to date.

Despite all this heavenly sunshine, however, the breathy confessionals beneath tell a different story. Out in the Storm proudly flies its flag as a break-up album, albeit one that ignores ‘woe is me’ emo-isms.

It's a bold move to put out so much music in one go, but Freedom's Goblin is sure-footed enough to warrant to such a splurge.

Animal Collective still lay down a challenge. It's the sound of a band refreshed.

A record made up of excellent songs, with a few great ones chucked in to raise the bar.

These little monographs are masterpieces in their own right--they are thought-provoking and cleverly composed. Consider this a guided listen that continues on the brilliant path of its predecessors.

While The Guillotine's second half doesn't quite hit the peaks of its first, it still remains an enthralling and embittering listen.

There's a lot to take in across the breadth of Below the Waste, but few could doubt the ecstatic creativity of this trio and their ability to take so many old parts and create something new.

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.

These are songs for dark evenings in big cities, dancing through heartbreak. For when you feel small, but anything feels possible.

It’s a superb return to the traditional album for Deacon. He's clearly learned a great deal making soundtracks, producing a record of a grand cinematic scale with a clearer eye on creating emotionally shifting tracks. Yet Dan Deacon maintains his constant look towards salvation and joy and retains an almost incomparable gift for conjuring them in a listener.

There is an attractive simplicity to this record, perhaps the band’s most straightforward since their debut. These are catchy feelings-forward songs with football chant-worthy choruses. It is, quite simply, an album full of singles.

Exploring retro music as inspiration can sometimes anchor acts to a sound, but in addition to the overarching transformation into this suave stranger, this artist’s ability to reinvent the album’s genre – hip-hop, R’n’B, synthpop – with each track makes Christine and the Queens' debut as Redcar transformative and enticing.

Where previous releases under the moniker have explored the grittier, DIY side of house, here Moss leans towards the lush, psychedelic end of the spectrum, and delivers a kaleidoscopic sonic journey that commands you to keep going back.

It’s thrilling to hear songs gussied up in the signifiers of 'challenging music' be so completely unserious.

Parton’s eclectic tastes remain the beating heart of The Go! Team, but in producing a record genuinely representative of the band’s boisterous live shows, he sounds more revitalised than ever.

Working with a number of producers, he's created another collection of songs that speak directly to an intense and emotional connection with someone, and all the good, bad and sexy that come along with that.

Painting a portrait of life in Montreal, one hand... is narrated as much by hurt as it is by hope, and demonstrates Levy’s ability to develop her artistry without letting go of the colouring of sound that renders her music hers.

Face Stabber's length owes much to its two centre-piece tracks, which end each side of this double LP, Scutum & Scorpius (14:24) and Henchlock (21:02) which sees the band go in full-on long jam mode. However, Dwyer counterbalances this with some of his shortest, sharpest, shocks, maintaining the balance between punk and prog rock that only he apparently can.

Messy, discordant, and beholden to the serrated edge, there’s nonetheless a seam of verisimilitude in the execution.

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.

It's a decisive success from one of NYC’s most distinct exports – though its head may sometimes come before the beat, it is no doubt an impressive achievement.

It’s a jubilant and sweet experience. The least conceptually bound Zauner has been, she moves confidently through a space befitting of the multi-hyphenate artist she has become.