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.

It's not a record that's overly concerned with coherence, but the freedom to experiment suits Malkmus well, especially when he lets the ideas dictate the music without trying to adhere to any sort of thematic cohesion.

It took three attempts with three different producers before being finished. But it arrives a work of rich, elegant beauty.

The Louder I Call, the Faster It Runs revels in keeping you off balance; it impresses, inspires and occasionally overwhelms, but it never outstays its welcome. A fantastic statement from an endlessly evolving band shouting louder than ever.

It's a surprisingly spotty album from an artist who rarely puts a foot wrong.

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.

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.

A difficult but thrilling listen.

On Black Coffee, these two scratch out a new groove in a very old record, and it’s well worth listening.

This record isn't exactly a "pleasurable" experience, and its relatively brief half-an-hour run-time may seem like a relief, but it actually somewhat undermines the tension in its brevity.

It is a record that dives deep into the listener's soul and unconscious, burying its soundscapes and frustration there, creating a rewarding progression in their sound.

One More Thing is the product of an accomplished band noodling around in the studio. There's a playfulness and creativity here that promises bigger and better things from the Brighton four-piece in the future. As far as debut albums go, this is a promising one.

Flowers is another lunch-line scoop of hearty 70s soul revivalism from music's most dependable dispensary. It's just on the underside of too pretty for its own good.

It’s the Le Butcherettes vocalist’s sheer power that makes Crystal Fairy feel less like a Melvins offshoot and more like its own entity.

Between its moderate tempos and spartan production, In Between seems designed to turn as few heads as possible and at first even comes across a tad glum. ... With a little patience though, its sunnier side shines through. All the hallmarks of The Feelies' sound are present, but in a pleasantly subdued state.

Pleasure is easily Feist’s most difficult album, far from the immediate accessibility of The Reminder, but she's a captivating performer and it may well be her richest statement.

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).

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.

While they may not have completely achieved seventh heaven here, 7 is still a solid first step heralding Beach House’s next phase.

A selection of often very solid songs that waivers a touch towards its back end, but nonetheless marks another solid entry to the output of an always interesting artist.

It's an album that oozes confidence, from the UK’s indie-rock standard-bearers.

There’s much of TOTS's recent past hidden in WRAITH. The industrial cyberjams of 2015’s Highly Deadly Black Tarantula are unceremoniously drained of their colour and body fat for a second go-around; blocky drum machines protrude like bones from rotting flesh on opener I’d Rather, Jack.

American Football build on their distinct craft for creating pop songs out of odd time signatures, seamlessly weaving multi-minute epics without ever feeling overblown such as on Silhouettes, cementing the band's return as a success.

Through it all, Lotic maintains a deep sense of nuance, sounds constantly morphing and remaining grippingly vital, still with great emotional intensity around every corner.

Bold and ambitious, Future Ruins is deliriously difficult to place, and all the more exciting for it.

Startlingly original and yet somehow a nostalgic comfort in these worrying times, Roberts is one of the best we've got.

While the music itself never strays far from Lewis' usual anti-folk template (although In Certain Orders' spot-on replication of The Cult's mid-80s stadium rock sound is an interesting aside), there's a focus and commitment to make each of these songs sound the best they can. It's a plan that's worked and Bad Wiring is an electrifying addition to the Lewis canon.

An arresting blend of ecopoetics and meditations on grief.