As ever, Lynch has crafted a strange world thick with foreboding, one that some will find inaccessible. For those willing to stay a while within it, though, there is much wonder here.

A varied and highly enjoyable record.

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

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.

The musicality of It’s Real is deliciously idiosyncratic, yet refreshing and musically progressive.

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.

The result is less a stylistic refresh than a confident reaffirmation of their combined output up until now.

The back half loses steam a little, but even mediocre RE is well-written and easy to enjoy. Victoria is an Alex Bleeker-led song with a bit of pedal steel twang, Airdrop throws in some synth and Freeze Brain has bongos for some reason. But these little affectations rarely distract from the uniformly gorgeous arrangements.

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.

The previously released singles on 1992 Deluxe, Brujas, Tomboy, and Kitana, are still as urgent and energetic as when they first gatecrashed YouTube. The bulk of the album, however, displays a versatility that appears directionless but is nevertheless entertaining and engaging.

At times (Pay Attention To Me, Rot In Hell), their chief inspiration point seems to be Nirvana’s seething grind through Devo’s Turnaround, but their gleeful dedication to deafening scree also calls to mind both No Age and TAD’s 8-Way Santa.

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

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.

There's an assurance on Um from an artist that has gained the requisite experience to release such an accomplished debut.

kick iiii was intended to be all instrumental piano, and while it certainly isn't that, it is a relatively calm affair (in stark contrast to its violent cover).

Circle weighs heavy with its search for meaning, but makes no attempt to gloss over the answers.

The Art of Pretending to Swim is an album that will reveal itself after a few listens.

While this album could be characterised as a return to 'normality' for Dirty Projectors, such a label has no bearing on a group this relentlessly imaginative; a creative rebirth would be more accurate.

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

These are sprawling works with clear focus.

As an exploration of a incredibly specific emotional space, and attempts to leave it, Look Up Sharp works tremendously. But it’s dal Forno’s compositional poise and skill with restraint that sets her apart as a creator of works of truly unnerving grace.

At times though, the album’s dreamy nature lacks the variety and depth exuded on Owens’ previous works like Inner Song. Its reverb-soaked aura may be lovely, but it rarely drifts course.

Indie-goth, shoegaze, post-punk, all of these descriptions fit but none of them can begin to tell the whole story and with the arrival of In Search of the Miraculous there is a sense that this soulful, anthemic, continually evolving band are just getting started.

This is intelligent party music, but it’s also headphone listening. Production is manic and plays at an attention deficit (though really these songs are crafted with a mandala-concentration, rich in samples, styles, and sonic layering).

Overall, Space Gun gives hope for the continuing future of a band that’s already died twice. While there’s a few bumps here and there, this is the sound of a group drunk off its own energy and excited to be alive.

What was previously disarming in its honesty, we now expect and prepare for. This doesn’t mean that the quality has suffered, it has just softened.

What is said is interesting, and delivered with a fiery ferocity worthy of the howling big cat on the cover, but too often the dissonant noise serves to exemplify the disconnect between the engaging ideas and the impotence of their presentation.

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.

Home In Another Life keeps you coming back for more.

Her voice remains gorgeous, but tracks like Banit and Elnadaha never lift beyond a plod; never seizing in the way you know her work can.

The record is ultimately a conflicted one. It has masses of recalcitrant spirit but little in the way of sonic inventiveness, with songs feeling more and more one-note as the album goes on. In the end, we're left with 11 perfectly listenable songs that are not quite as interesting as the ideas that lie beneath them.

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.

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.

There are lyrical themes explored here – social media and the 'digital you' face criticism, as expected from an act sonically indebted to the past – but they are window dressing for songs full of rhythm, forward motion and tightly packed kinetic energy.

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.

Lex is inspired by lofty philosophical goals, on attempts to 'communicate a world distant enough that it can't be captured or comprehended in the present.' On this front Lex is undoubtedly successful, sounding consistently otherworldly, but still retaining enough humanity to make it effective.

Every Valley is lush and symphonic, more interested in expressing the human spirit of the mining communities than aestheticising the conditions in which they toiled.

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 record ultimately comes across as a series of experiments compared to the steely focus of their previous offerings, and perhaps in future will feel like a stepping stone record, but their sheer ability of songcraft means it never drags in its exploration.

Sløtface’s songs reach out to a disenfranchised youth, much like the pop-punk bands that dominated the airwaves in the late 90s and early 00s did. Although the band members may be too young to remember that time, they are doing a good job of making those who can nostalgic for it.

Migration is the acid test for electronic music in 2017, and sets a standard that will be undeniably difficult to beat, let alone match.

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.

Exhausting, ridiculous and full of life, De La Soul still do it like no-one else.

Overall, Black’s latest effort proves nothing less than a markedly ethereal romp beyond the traditional boundaries of pop, as its comic hints of electronica and rolling melodies lend it a profoundly cosmic air.

While there’s a strange sense of timelessness surrounding Moosebumps though, it also takes some time to get into its stride.

Wildly inconsistent album.

Produced by Dave Eringa (Manic Street Preachers, Idlewild), Angry Cyclist offers a little less gravitas than usual in truth, but the taut Telecasters that dominate The Proclaimers' eleventh studio album provide a tension that seems to sit well within the heart of these prescient compositions.

A vibrant, eclectic joy.

Creative, life-affirming, funny and beautiful, Thumb World gets the thumbs up.

Some Nights I Dream of Doors feels like a real expression of Umoh’s wide-ranging influences and it succeeds in showcasing his diverse vocal range. However, at times it feels restrained and, for an artist as unique as Umoh, it feels like a missed opportunity.

Here Is Everything presents a band laid bare (the whole record crafted together in drummer Fern Ford’s spare room studio). And, like the Harvest Moon casting its welcome glow, it’s a beacon of endurance and survival. Celestial magic.

The record feels like someone truly in control of their craft, to the extent that it begins to suffer from this a touch, all of its edges honed too perfectly, too considered to leave any sense of spontaneity, even if it is often beautifully done.

Full Moon is an utter joy.

FEVEREATEN is an act of catharsis scaffolded by rage, disappointment and hope. At their most connected moments, Witch Fever are prophets of a kind, delivering the listener to a space where big things – noises and feelings alike – are welcome.

Loading all but two songs with features leads to a certain amount of tonal whiplash, but Brown has the chops, charisma and unbridled energy to mostly pull it off. Few of the featured performers can keep up with him, but the production is inspired and demonstrates how a newfound clarity and focus have elevated every aspect of his artistry.

Closer Scorpio Purple Skies, a near ten-minute drone glistening with the lap steel of John Also Bennett, gestures to something more elemental and cosmic, the mythic and the earthly folding in on themselves.

Poem 1 is a return to form; so much more focused and well-defined, but moving forward too, showcasing herself as a great songwriter amidst the ambient wash of her earlier work.

Yet though FIBS skips swiftly between moods and sounds, Meredith’s innate ability to bring these parts together into a collection that’s both bursting with compositional creativity, while still maintaining its own sense of cohesion and an accessible edge, inspires awe. It’s no lie: Meredith has struck gold once again.

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

Blanco has always fallen slightly short in lyrical content and, although there are hints of depth and melancholy, on tracks like High School Never Ends and You Don’t Know Me, Mykki never quite goes deep enough.

Atomic picks up where the krauty electronic wash that coloured Rave Tapes left off, and sees the band brandishing some of their most compelling work to date.

It’s a New Day Tonight is a highly polished vehicle that demands to be driven at twilight with the roof down, allowing for its passengers to drift off to the engine’s dulcet purr and the wind’s gentle caress.

A couple of the more traditionally structured techno tracks can feel a little too cold and laboured, sometimes feeling longer than their actual run-time. Despite this, when it pushes boundaries and dips its toe further into avant-garde territory, Family Portrait can be an immersive exploration of dance music.

If creating something uncomfortable was what Butler was hoping to achieve with In Amber, then it certainly succeeds in its mission. Unfortunately, though, it doesn’t achieve much else.

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.

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

Fiery hip-hop instrumentals, creamy rhythm and blues balladry and classic lounge vibes are explored with equal excitement--and pulled off with equal panache.

Clocking in at less than half an hour, The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons is a breathless exercise in how rock music should be played. It’s fun, frenetic, and full to the brim with that trademark Hives humour.

The overall charm is undeniable, even if it does feel very familiar.

Far from a superfluous 'for fans only' reissue, this five-track record (which has been beautifully mastered from the original analogue tape) is a little piece of gothic rock history that should sit proudly in the record collection of any fan of The Cure, Joy Divison, Siouxsie and the Banshees et al.

Although Flat White Moon is a serene glance into the past it unfortunately lacks the innovation that makes what inspired it so great, and would be much improved if we could hear Field Music’s individual voice alongside their musical heroes.

The biggest problem with this album is its bloated mid-section, which drags down the commendable peaks of its opening and closing segments.

In the End exemplifies the defiance that The Cranberries, and O’Riordan herself have shown throughout their career. Defiance of the status quo, defiance of violence, and ultimately defiance of death. It’s unmissable, unquestionable and unforgettable.

A pandemic baby, the album is a mixed bag as the singer explores new paths for herself.

While Glasgow Eyes is no Psychocandy, it is without doubt a true-to-form The Jesus and Mary Chain album and, for that reason alone, worth the listen.

The LP manages to consistently surprise and entertain for its entire running time, just two minutes shy of two hours. ... Bob's Burgers' unique music provides an offbeat, aural soundscape to its narrative and allows for characters to express themselves.

Although listening to Olympic Girls is an immersive experience that takes the listener away from their reality, it's bittersweet--and not the kind of contemplative place that you would want to linger in for too long.

It's Yorkston's voice that will capture you. Whispered stories are nothing new in folk music, but there is something more compelling happening here, especially when the Scottish author breathes in tune down your ear over brushed drums or oscillating organs.

A late night journey of the highest order.

It certainly seems like a work-in-progress, a warts-and-all steppingstone to something better yet to be realised – sadly, it's also the first time Owens has sounded like anyone other than herself.

The most crucial overlap here is between Foals’ dual ambitions – creative and commercial. They’ve been one of the biggest bands in Britain for a while now – and finally, they truly sound like it.

Unlikely as it is to bust them out of the indie ghettoes, Coldharbourstores’ unexpected return is a very lovely thing indeed.

Antisocialites is a much more rugged and varied listen. This is Alvvays pushing the jangle pop envelope, and the perfect album for when sunny summer turns to antisocial autumn.

While brevity has consistently been a feature of Moolchan’s work, here the relatively short song lengths mean that some tracks can feel somewhat intangible, ending before they seem to be getting into their stride.

At the centre of Shura’s third album is the rousing anthemic piano ballad I Wanna Be Loved By You, and it captures the DNA at the heart of this yearning, vulnerable record.

Dream Wife is brimming with grungey, glam melters and dreamy pop melodies that perfectly capture the enthusiasm and confidence of Dream Wife's live shows, without sounding too over-polished.

So What is a delightful addition to the 'I’m doing great, actually' canon, where barely concealed heartbreak begs to be felt under swaggering lyrics and Big Stick is a snarling powerhouse.

Thank Me Later and Burning Bridges both wade through the sentiment of leaving on a high rather than trying to scale a sinking ship. While feel-good anthem Mirror is the body confidence balm we all need a dash of this summer. The record isn’t all righteous pop bangers though. There are some tear-jerking numbers that even Adele would be proud of (see: Last To Know and High Note).

It’s sentimental, it’s oddball and it’s beautiful. In other words, it’s Grandaddy at their finest.

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.

The decision to front-load the album with singles means that you experience a jarring drop in energy and quality three songs in. After that Freakout/Release settles into songs that, while alright, sound a bit like the product of an AI program that has been made to listen to 100 hours of Hot Chip and then generate its own imitation.

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.

At times this feels like a celebration of what can be achieved with three chords and an earnest tale, intelligently told.

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.

For a band renowned for their experimentation it doesn’t feel like much new ground is covered on Time Skiffs and even after years of waiting, by the end of the album you’re left wanting more.

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.

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.

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.