It grows, fades and breathes like an album should, it provides enough singles to make it the envy of many a record, and it also demonstrates what a perfect stem the original TKOL was.

Yes, it sounds like you're now entering Bluejam, but Lynch discovered the place, and instead of quitting cinema to make an album that's being called his debut, it sounds more like he's coming home.

Remarkably the chuck it all in and see what happens approach works, mainly because the superb sheen of production papers over any cracks. What we are left with is an inescapably solid album.

Dulli isn’t in Johnny Cash’s league yet -- then again, Bob Dylan and Tom Waits are the only people who are -- but 'She Loves You' marks him out as a fellow traveller.

A New Nature breathes more freely than anything this group has ever produced before and, as such, showcases a more confident and coherent band than one may reasonably have expected.

If All I Was Was Black contains performances as powerful as any she has given.

This is not a wild departure from either of the duo’s bands, but it is a pleasingly fruitful one.

With rave reviews in Venice, The Master will undoubtedly earn its share of awards, and, if this soundtrack is anything to go by, it deserves to.

Consistently, from beginning to end, on Suck My Shirt, The Coathangers have shown themselves to be songwriters of real ability.

It’s hard to know whether he’s released the most cohesive, and immediate, collection of songs first, or as the series goes on it’ll get more abstract and ethereal. Either way this is an artist, and series of releases, to embrace and get excited about.

It's intrinsically a strange album though, trapped somewhere between The Knife, Nineties acid house, Kraftwerk, New Order’s Technique album, and literally anything Eno did in the Eighties, but the warped pop sensibilities and gloriously plastic production make it a hidden gem.

Nothing Valley is carefully orchestrated disarray, and it’s a hoot. Melkbelly have created a thrillingly unprocessed debut bursting with noisy imagination.

The overall effect is that of a fully original piece of music, extremely relaxing and imaginative, which effortlessly creates the suggested atmosphere of haunted places for the listener.

El-P has masterfully used New York’s dark corners as a productive muse on I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead.

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.

The record is alive. It has punch, guts, heart, all the things you would hope for really, whilst at the same time maintaining the central potency of what made Ghostpoet so great in the first place: that voice, delivering paeans to lost love and the reality of life like really no-one else can.

Human Performance sees Parquet Courts deliver ideas with laser accuracy.

Indeed, as their debut for Kills Rocks Stars, Now We Can See is an album fit to carry the torch in 2009 for one of the underground’s most fearlessly exciting labels.

A fun, but deeply human, record.

Hummingbird feels wiser, grander, and more knowing.

You Want It Darker is a succinct journey into the psyche of a man who knows his career is at an end, but that isn’t going to stop him going out on a high.

Unflesh is a truly brilliant piece of work, and the sound of an artist trailblazing through as of yet uninhabited territory--here's hoping it's only the beginning.

Maze of Woods is a superb record and one that should give confidence in the continued potential of the band.

At its core, Bad News Boys is a joyous celebration of all things rock'n'roll by two guys who seem to have it running in their blood.

This is one made like they used to make 'em--and it's utterly gorgeous to boot.

The Lost Tapes isn't an easy album to listen to, but then that was never the case with Can. Nonetheless, as the years pass and more bands form, by default their influence grows, which makes this a fascinating addition to any collection.

Brutal, violent and disturbing though it may be, its surreal hybrid of human and simulation has some strange beauty to it.

Complex of subject matter and sound, Player Piano could have been weighed down by intricacy.

The balance of the old and the truly new in instrumentation and song writing style is the bedrock of the composer’s own work and many of the artists on the albums track listing.

What it lacks in instant appeal it makes up for on repeated listens as the hidden gems shine through, and whilst the different styles it adopts can make From A Compound Eye feel slightly untidy and overstocked on occasion, the ambition and craftsmanship present makes warming to it hard to resist.

A guilty pleasure it may be, but when the pleasure is as intense as this, quite frankly who gives a fuck?

While Transfixiation doesn't answer that question ["What have I become?"] specifically, it represents another giant step forwards in A Place To Bury Strangers' continual evolution.

They may not live on as eternal alternative classics, but they feel emphatically, explosively alive. While preserving his natural nonchalant charm, Thurston sounds more vigorous, bellicose, twitchy and forceful than he has in years.

What was once pin drop quiet is now grand; one soon adjusts however as the key to all of the songs here is the inner shell, not the protective exterior.

With 2019 fresh upon us, hopefully the splendour of Outer Peace is an eclectic foreshadowing of a thrilling year in music.

There is something to be said about a record like Quiet Signs, which finds its maker willingly dwindle and fade within the corporeal world’s fog and decay. It may be an old fashioned idea, sure, but it’s one that will undoubtedly age well.

Yorkston feels like a man who genuinely does this, not for fame or money or even to send a message, but simply as catharsis and because it means something to him. The Route to Harmonium is another chance for us to share that with him.

Perhaps the highest compliment you can pay the latest Faun Fables album is that neither its 'tuneful' or 'creepy' parts sound more naturally achieved than the other, and that they sound like they've sprung from the well of a woman with a unique creative – and literal – voice.

This is a fruitful and distinctive addition to Malkmus' oeuvre, not least thanks to Beck who also produced Thurston Moore's latest outing with a similarly sensitive finesse.

The naysayers may have a point, this might not seem like an aural paradigm shift to some, but Paracosm is still a vital progression for Washed Out.

If the sign of a good LP is no standout tracks then John Wizards is certifiably brilliant, a collage of brightly-coloured chamber pop where modern synths get a look-in too.

Radio Static High makes a perfect counterpart to In Black and Gold.

Of course it’s not perfect, but it revels in that deficiency and harnesses aggression via discomfort to maybe eventually find peace. That amounts to a collection truly worth clutching tight.

It is very easy to get lost in this record, but there is a miraculous balance that holds everything together.

Popular Songs is as essential as anything Yo La Tengo have ever released, and perhaps even more so--an album that looks back at where they’ve been, smiles, and stares resolutely forward to what will come next.

He hits heights that few artists of this genre can reach and although this isn’t maintained consistently throughout the record, the heavenly levels of joy and bliss he’s able to impart prove the purity of his talent and the worth of his experience.

Lavished with luscious keys and gently chiming guitars throughout, ‘The Trial Of The Century’ tickles and teases the listener, offering subtle hooks that take time to appreciate.

Often collaborative projects end up being an average of its participants, merging in the middle in a grey mulch. Dark Night of the Soul escapes all of that, Sparklehorse bringing the songwriting genius, and Danger Mouse the production, and the details - the watery sounds, the effects, the atmosphere.

Hey Venus! is the most concise album in the band's history.

'To America’ comes across very much a modern take on West Side Story replete with fine vocal performances from its central pair, sweeping strings and ebullient brass, it’s a jubilant finale to an album that, while never quite surpassing the evocative beauty of the band’s first, matches it with a keen flourish.

Loss flows through The Rhumb Line's veins, ineffable but vital. Someday I'm sure I'll turn to this record for consolation, and for that I'm both sad and grateful.

Try not to worry too much about where it comes from, or who else it may or may not sound like. Instead, enjoy a record that is quintessentially British, without pretension and most importantly, a whole lot of fun.

RTJ2 is replete with razor-sharp lyricism and clattering, abrasive production.

Like a beacon of light emerging at the outset of Spectres distorted vision, its audacious nature and ever-changing mood perfectly sums up Dying's idiosyncratic nature.

An ambitiously themed, leftfield, modern classical album that not only impresses, but totally enthrals.

This is how the covers album should be done, with tight technique and loving affection blending together to give the new versions life and bite.

A rhythmically dense album that suggests Carey’s ever-evolving sound is in its prime stages.

There’s no swinging drama in Brion’s work on Lady Bird, but the meaning isn’t hard to find, either; it’s light, but not frothy. Above all, just like the film, it’s warm as toast.

July is a grown up album--but it’s not a cleaned up one: Marissa Nadler may flirt with the sun now, but still articulates the dark like no one else.

Where TFCF will stand in Liars’ overall oeuvre remains to be seen, but for an album that wasn’t expected to be a solo piece, Andrew does very well on his own to make his mark.

Primitive and Deadly is the latest in a recent suite of triumphs- by this point Earth are masters of their game, making music that’s bigger and more powerful than anything mere mortals should be able to create.

As ever with Themselves, there aren’t really highlights or many changes of pace – it’s full-on, all the time; you don’t get skits between songs, just a second, third or fourth gabbling vocal line within these ten, unconventionally concise songs.

Similar to Ben Folds and Aimee Mann, Merritt revives the lost art of inventing captivating fictions entwined with personal reflection.

As inconvenient as it may be, even if you already own this album it is well worth purchasing once again in its new form, if, of course, you can afford the ostentatious extravagance of buying the same Nineties lo-fi record twice within the same lifetime.

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

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

Konoyo exists as a glorious symphony that brings together the starkness of electronic experimentation and the human warmth of traditional acoustics into an astonishing whole.

Their most well-rounded LP so far.

There is no concept, because sometimes an album just doesn't need to confuse itself with one, this is simply a collection of heavyweight dancefloor bangers and should be enjoyed as such.

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

Slaves of Fear isn’t perfect, but then I’m not sure it’s trying to be. It’s all over the place, but is also strangely connected. It’s good, just leave me alone now--I need a lie down.

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.

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.

What’s striking though is that a band known for a very particular sound can produce such individually distinct pop songs, with equal aplomb, while remaining within their self-defined parameters of 'the Dutch Uncles sound'.

Choppy beats and rhythms along with shuffling percussion helps create a feeling of urban movement and flux. There is a swagger to the songs that is hard to ignore--Panda has created the album that he has always hinted at.

This is perhaps the most deeply rewarding album from a singer songwriter released this year. Each time you think you have the measure of it, it takes things in a wildly different direction.

Is it a worthy addition to their canon, though? Absolutely. The things that make this band a real treasure can all still be found here--the slightly beat-up romanticism, the pessimism of the secret optimist, the big, bold beauty of the melodies, the detailed imperfect perfection of the music.

Ashworth earns sympathy aplenty vocally, but his mechanical compositions occasionally jar awkwardly against his heartfelt outpourings.

These words have lost none of their clout and, in fact, Tom's reworking of the sounds that surround them only serve to underscore just how powerful they can be.

Fragrant World is by far the band's most immersive and consistent record, a buzzingly exotic mass of nervy future soul and paranoid disco that grows in stature with each listen.

Central Belters isn’t so much a practical collection of music, more a monument to an inspirational career.

Teenager is consistently rewarding, then; what it lacks though is bite.

A deeply affecting album which preserves everything that was so marvelous about her beloved folk-opera [Hadestown], and ultimately performs a very handsome job of keeping out of its vast shadow.

Sure, there’s less humour here than Conor Oberst or Okkervil River, but there’s also less caricature, and if Damien Jurado continues to play second fiddle in terms of success, he no longer does so in terms of atmospheric arrangements, captivating tunes, and dark poetry.

When you combine this teeth-gritting lyrical intensity with El-P's boundary-pushing production and stupefyingly capable poetics, it's little wonder that, for all its darkness, paranoia and rage, Cancer For Cure emerges as one of the year's most endlessly re-playable records.

A Broke Moon Rises takes a totally different tone and is all the better for it. The overall impression of sitting with A Broke Moon Rises is one of music being created as a comfort blanket: Pajo weaving a warm, familiar and enveloping sound world in order to soothe himself. Fortunately, it’s a generously proportioned blanket that can cover the listener too.

A thoughtful and inventive debut album that is more accomplished and accessible than the first offering by [The Coral].

This reinterpretation of Vulnicura is a success that also surprises, given the simplicity of the premise. This is both a joy to listen to and a chance to focus on Björk’s string arrangements and the frustration contained therein.

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.

It's not exactly love at first sight with Rooms Filled with Light. But like all the best love affair it endures, and reveals new sides of itself with each listen.

Ending on a crashing waterfall of an outro and coming in at just under 27 minutes, Ha, Ha, He. leaves the listener desperate for more.

Even in the context of what is turning out to be a stonking year for electro-pop, YACHT have concocted a record to match their peers in Metronomy, Cut Copy and Friendly Fires.

Maybe some of the subtlety of the original is lost in the symphonic throb of this new arrangement but it's still a stunning, gleaming celebration of endurance and life even in the midst of bruises and hurt.

The lyrics’ meditations on transience and memory suit the sounds very nicely. And so the whole thing congeals into a brilliant whole.

By far the most accessible and pop-sounding recordings he has recorded in years, here the ship Eno references might serve the dual function as symbolising his own soul finding tranquility in the music once again.

The songs on this record have been delivered with the kind of aplomb that only someone with an unshakeable confidence in their work can muster, which suggests that Nadine Shah’s artistic future is mouthwatering.

Lone has delivered a Nineties attack that even Neil Buchanan would be proud of.

More often than not, there’s a controlled confidence and sensitivity behind each note that makes for a powerful delivery. Rumer should be praised for taking on such a feat, handling the weight of the songs, and producing something filled with raw emotion, maturity and depth.