It’s the work of a confident, mature songwriter with a clear and distinct voice.

I Go Missing In My Sleep is a collection of beautiful songs made infinitely more beautiful by the way they've been meticulously put together. The lightest touch lets Wilson's exceptional vocal sit effortlessly close, without sacrificing complexity or interest.

Gargoyle is missing the emotive, musical draw that makes Langegan the tear-jerking, blues-poet that he really is.

While there will undoubtedly be some who bemoan the same failing within Rock n Roll Consciousness, there’s no way Thurston Moore is going to stop for anyone.

All told, the lovely but tedious collage work of 1948 isn’t crucial to hear.

Colin Stetson is matchless, his record glorious, and you’ll likely never experience silence as dramatically as the moment when All This I do for Glory concludes.

Humanz is good, because Gorillaz are good, and it distinguishes itself by probably being the band’s most party-orientated record, which is great. But ultimately it feel like Gorillaz are now more curators than provocateurs, locked into a classy, comfortable groove.

It’s not what you might have expected or even--on one or two initial listens--have been hoping for from Kendrick Lamar. But this is an artist in his absolute prime: artistically, lyrically and musically.

This is the freshest their music has felt for a while.

Its quickness to reach the climax leaves it a bit devoid of resolutions and making it feel like a bit of an empty statement. It's a shame because, Love is Love, for what it is, is such a well-composed album, that it feels like it's close to being a band-defining statement given its all too real context in which it exists.

It’s perfectly pleasant background listening, but it yields diminishing returns from close listening.

Emperor of Sand, it seems, is a confident and timely step in the right direction. A balanced and well measured offering that might not revolutionise the heavy music landscape just yet, but positions them very well indeed for future greatness.

Far more than a simple exercise in rock as violent fury, or as political vehicle for that matter, Gnod’s latest effort is yet another important musical statement from a group firmly at the forefront of everything good about British underground music. That it arrives in time to soundtrack such troubled times as these is, of course, a welcome bonus.

While it’s fair to wonder if they can ever top it, their growth from record to record indicates that they may indeed have another even higher gear.

While Dylan fans surely miss his original tunes, this honest, affecting tribute to a bygone era of music is a treat in itself.

Overall, this is an excellent return from an always consistent band who's legacy has grown and grown over the years since their depature in 2011.

If you put in the effort this is one of the most rewarding albums of the year so far, but like pronouncing its title, don’t be surprised if you don’t get it first time.

Concrete Desert may--for some listeners--be missing an excavation of the dark musical hearts of each of these two fine musicians, but what it offers instead is something tangibly unique in the catalogues of two legendary figures.

Pollard hasn’t delivered an all-enticing album in a while, and with all of its hidden gems, August By Cake suffers from having too many songs that just aren’t fulfilling enough.

Overall, Rather You Than Me is another example of Ross’ gift at making albums, even though he litters the radio with corny one liners.

This record is better placed alongside, rather than in opposition to, Chardiet’s prior two releases. It’s another excellent entry in her catalogue of searingly distressing, and physically exhausting, noise.

Many bands have attempted to capture the appeal of college rock at its hight, but Happyness are perhaps the first that don’t leave you merely wanting to dust off your old Pavement records. Write In will do nicely.

The strange thing about the record is that the tracks just keep getting better and better as you go along.

Regardless of what anyone wanted or expected from them though, this brilliant debut sees Diet Cig establishing a complex, nuanced voice with a subtle uniqueness, a fierce emotionality and a great sense of fun.

Not only does Sneaks survive the sophomore slump, she dances circles five circles round it without ever (EVER) skipping a beat.

Apart from the new wave prom dance of 'Candles', The Far Field plays out like a treadmill--same tempos, same whining siren wails from the synths, same bass undulation.

Despite the running time, it should be noted that Pure Comedy moves at a clip; only ‘The Memo’ and its cold boardroom-speak textures belabour the narrative a little too much on a record that’s all about stretching out an exact, unwavering thread.

This 2017 take on Eighties cinematic synth-pop is an unexpected joy in which to relish the impending political slime approaching us.

Julia Holter’s is a talent best shown stretched, pulled-out and free-flowing in live performance. This recording environment suits her just right.

This record is the group’s leanest to date. There’s no filler. It’s instant hit after instant hit after instant hit.

A few more years playing together has refined Desperate Journalist’s songwriting significantly. There’s more emotional and musical depth to the songs on Grow Up, the slow-dance of ‘Purple’ being probably the biggest example of this.

Such is the emotive power of ‘Sea of Blood’, it would be easy for the rest of the LP to be overshadowed by it, but it’s to the credit of Tall Ships and Impressions that this is never a factor.

Certainly, on early listens, it appears to lack some of the strange staying power of the band’s very best releases, as if there’s an indefinable something missing. As a result, this is unlikely to jar experienced Wolf Eyes listeners as much as it is newcomers.

So whilst the fire might need more kindling before it can truly become a beacon, the potential and ambition cannot be faulted.

Ultimately, More Life does a terrific job creating a mood with its dancehall-flecked, atmospheric production (handled most impressively by the likes of Nineteen85 and Frank Dukes), and it certainly points to a fascinating fork in the road moment for the world’s biggest rapper.

With this album we find Johnny Flynn striding comfortably and confidently into his own future, and whatever the reception to this record, it’s looking bright for this thoughtful and intrepid musician.

Although not entirely perfect. And it's highly unlikely even the most wisened Mary Chain diehard would have expected it to be. Damage and Joy heralds the dawning of a new era in its creators' colourful history, providing a worthwhile addition to a canon of musical eminence in the process.

Recorded in one take, and featuring with two drummers, a myriad of vintage synths, a few guitars and god knows how much more technology all hardwired into their mixing desk, the record flows together effortlessly.

Well, Elverum clearly needed to vent this stuff and to share it with the wider world and you’re unlikely to find a more powerfully eulogistic record released this year. Arguably ever.

Merritt has lifted the curtain JUST enough to draw us that bit more into his world, while still maintaining both his brilliantly singular world-view and style AND enough distance for us to look on in abject admiration.

Ultimately, there is a familiarity to In Mind which for some may seem a little too much of the same from this now 'veteran' band, but as with every Real Estate record, their collective ears for little surprising turns and touches in amongst their overall pleasing sound, is still impressive, eight years on.

Be Music is an enjoyable, interesting curio, that sits alongside the 2002 collection as a fascinating companion to one of our most unique groups; and a satisfying journey into electronica in its own right.

Whilst Hot Thoughts may divide fans, it stands as proof that class is permanent. Spoon are still one of the most forward-thinking rock bands around, and we’re still very lucky to have them 25 years later.

It’s the sound of a gifted songwriter comfortable with his craft and in his own skin, offering glinting new facets to earlier sounds and the songs present on Ruminations, and it makes for a subtle, yet striking departure from everything that came before.

Not the most essential thing ever, but then does anyone ever NEED fried cuts of pork? No, but you’ll devour it anyway. Hence, this album.

While reference points are few and far between throughout Locus, those that linger are of artists equally as disparate in their output. Which is why Great Ytene stand out as an anomaly themselves. A record worth investing money, time and effort into.

When you heard Cape Dory, you probably didn’t expect Tennis to be growing into soulful artistry six years and three albums later, and they deserve an incredible amount of credit for that. But you definitely wouldn’t ever have expected them to sound dreary either, and that’s something of which Tennis are slightly guilty on Yours Conditionally.

Throughout Heartworms, Mercer and company prove that their sparse output is well worth the wait. The totality of the record is enough to engulf listeners in myriad textures accomplished via sound and vision.

Black and White Rainbows seems to have been produced by the committee who did the backing tracks for the original Guitar Hero--every edge sanded smooth, compliant and utterly indistinct. There are no dynamics to be found on this LP, only ‘on’ or ‘off’.

Condition should come with a label on the front advising "Approach With Caution". However, its creators' intransigent desire to confound and confront should be applauded. Spectres: simply one of a kind.

He has made the most anodyne and bland pop album possible.

It’s her attempt to understand femininity, and that occurs here in poetic and often quite abstract fashion. Evidently, for Marling, femininity is less fickle and changeable than mesmerisingly mysterious.

There is never a singular anecdote or scheme with Kozelek, as he bounces around from topic to topic, providing a kaleidoscope of information in one song.

Whichever way they decide to pursue such diversions on future releases, one hopes that they remain as fixated on fusing together the dance traditions of their two homes. On that territory, Ibibio Sound Machine remain world leaders.

Volcano is a fun album of tightly-crafted, catchy melodies. But it’s in no way reinventing the genre the band members so keenly idolise.

Unfortunately, the plodding repetition soon rears its ugly head again, and stays for the duration.

VOIDS is testament to a band who have never rested in their creativity, and have managed to rebuild and recreate while holding at their core the things that made them brilliant 15 years ago. Have a listen.

Their music really does speak for itself through just their voices and a drum kit. Anyone suspicious of how that might translate can put those fears aside, Be OK is a fine record, and fitting document of the group that created it.

For all the coldness and brutality of Forget there are moments of beauty, validation and comfort, showing that these things can co-exist simultaneously.

It’s beautiful and utterly captivating in its own way and, after all the band and Lytle have been through, that’s triumphant enough.

Why?'s fifth record seems more of a sure-footing; a reminder that this band that at one point was so exciting, is still able to surprise and move you even a decade on from their crowning achievement.

Its conceptual limits are conspicuously narrow.

World Eater contains some of Power’s most serene work to date.

Silberman has crafted an enthralling, minimalist mood piece on which the barely-there nature of the instrumentation belies deep nuance and forethought, with tension and insecurity rumbling softly beneath the face-value serenity. Gorgeous.

As left field and innovative as they come, and while that doesn't always make for the easiest of listens, Invocation and Ritual Dance of My Demon Twin should be applauded for daring to tread where many others would whimper at the thought.

Why Love Now is the first in a potentially endless stream of politically charged punk rock records this year. However, it’s extremely hard to see any of them trumping this glorious, if uncomfortable, masterpiece.

The record works not because it feels cynical, but because beneath the obvious lyrical headlines, you can sense Longstreth’s genuine enthusiasm for the new forms he’s exploring so vigorously.

Bruner/Thundercat has tamed (to some extent at least) his scope and ambition through his various influences and thoughts to make his third full-length album a joyful, crazy, substance-fuelled epic in an area where most of his contemporaries would take themselves endlessly seriously. Here, Bruner has harnessed all that into maybe his best record yet.

Sick Scenes isn’t a doom and gloom exercise, nor miserable thousand-yard stare. Instead it is the sound of a band doubling down on what brought them to their particular dance, peppered with unflinching honesty and conviction, all dressed up in requisite ‘take us or leave us’ glamour.

Chalice Hymnal drifts a lot and while every song is distinguished, too often shorter tracks don’t feel as fully developed as their longer brethren.

O’Connor has a clarity of purpose and a truly unique sound that is perfectly suited to his vision of suburban nihilism.

Whilst they dream of a home that can no longer be found, there is some comfort to be found here in the new family they are building around them with the power of their music.

Considering the genre was built around reinventing itself at every corner, their long-term commitment to a fairly narrow sound may surprise some, but nevertheless, this is another strong entry in the Dutch Uncles catalogue.

A little moderated, perhaps, but more mature too. For the first time in years, we are able to imagine that Ounsworth’s best work might still be ahead of him, rather than behind him.

This record is a testament to its creators’ endurance. It has also resulted in an absolute creative peak.

Life Will See You Now doesn’t quite hit the heights of 2007-era Lekman, but in his mid-thirties, Gothenburg’s favourite son remains a vital artist. May it not be another five years before he returns.

This isn’t background noise, it demands your attention through its rich and layered compositions. But it's never overly fussy, rather it’s maximalism through a less is more approach.

Prisoner isn’t a heartbreak record--it’s potentially the heartbreak record, for my generation at least. Turns out sadness really is quite the currency.

Big and bold when it hits, underwhelming and otherwise transient elsewhere, it’s a debut that manages to occasionally impress while leaving a lot to be desired.

[Darcy's] never sounded more relaxed, more relieved to be relaxed--and the soft edges, the familiar refrains, the gentle tones, they’re all windows to that light in [him].

The tenderness, and longing in her songs are inescapable; it’s subtle and affectionateness are feelings long sought after in today’s landscape. We should long for more Khouri.

The problem with Human (the album) is that it feels like it’s been over tooled for success, that the commercial facets of his talents have been blown up at the expense of what might have actually made him interesting.

Quite the mess all told.

Alas, The Temple of I & I, does not hit the high benchmarks of prior quality. Very much a Thievery album in its own right, with the tropical rhythms alongside the DC-based musicians approach to studio-dub, the LP falls short of the classic peak moments of the past.

Past, present, and future rest patiently before Hoop, and she’s weaved them all into her most endearing album yet.

Going forward, The Molochs may want to deviate a bit from the formula they used on America’s Velvet Glory, which gets pretty well worn even though the record is fairly compact at only 11 tracks, but it works well as both a cohesive throwback and a character study.

This attempt to marry together two equally confrontational (in their own distinct ways) musical forms reaps real rewards, and undoubtedly makes Wake in Fright a more consistently provocative record than the duo’s debut.

Occult Architecture Vol. 1 makes for a sorcerous entreaty to dig that little bit deeper when weighing up the relationship--and clearly quite inspiring power--of the inner world and the outer realm. Here’s hoping the second installment delivers just as forcefully.

Bursting with new inspiration and direction, After the Party is the triumphant sound of a songwriting duo reaping the rewards of those sacrifices, a group of friends on an unstoppable streak of home runs.

Little Fictions, their seventh, is, reliably, a very good Elbow album.

A rather average document, already a relic on arrival, with about three standout songs among a soporific wash of over-polished Flying Nun imitations.

As the inclusion of the Neil Armstrong quote suggests, this is a step back towards the sunlight. Where that step leads remains to be seen, but this process has already produced a classic debut album.

He has followed up the exceptional Sleep with yet another dazzling work that is “full of echoes, of memories, of associations” that celebrate and reflect this towering writer.

There’s plenty of Near to the Wild Heart of Life that carries the essential appeal of the band in spades, namely, a dedication to giving it your all until you collapse with euphoria and exhaustion.

There is a classic aesthetic that underpins every facet of these recordings. Everything is calculated and nothing has been left to chance. So sit back, and fully immerse yourself in a sonic experience unlike anything else released this year.

Dougall’s voice, which is always sounds faintly sad (all the best voices do) laying a melancholic consistency across the whole thing. Star-shaped indeed.

Basinski brings to his craft an understanding that music structures time just as much as time structures music. Among his most entrancing work.