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.