Simply put, Bushcraft is the best Converge worship since the Power and the Glory dropped Call Me Armageddon in 2004.

It's difficult to see another album topping Bakersfield as this year's best pure country release.

It's a smothering, enveloping textural experience, alternately threatening to cocoon or drown the listener.

A Series of Shocks shoots for a different kind of looping hypnotism but lands slightly short.

The Story So Far haven't reached for anything radically new on their self-titled album, but they've created a powerful listen that stays memorable and engaging throughout.

Written, performed, and produced solely by the artist, Barnes' debut is a percussive gem saturated with guttural synths. It's a distinct piece of electro-pop that deserves close listening.

Unlike those of many of their contemporaries, this album isn't offering much faux hard-won wisdom, and there's no late-night barstool proselytizing to speak of. Instead, Start Here channels the naïve wonder, genuine openness, and hopeful abandon of post-adolescence.

McGuire's reputation doesn't need any further solidification at this point, but Beyond Belief is another worthy instalment in his hugely respectable catalogue.

The great flaw of this album is that it isn't a concert, and the listener is not right there with the band; it feels disconcerting to be listening to an album of alternately rollicking and mournful populist sing-alongs while alone in one's living room.

Rawlings' and Welch's music always feels like a return visit, and Poor David's Almanack in particular seems perfectly suited to tack up on your wall and consult at home.

It takes a few spins for the subtle charms of Life Is Fine to fully kick in, but it rewards patience. It may not quite match the sustained brilliance of seminal '80s albums Gossip and Under the Sun, but this is another fine effort.

Its production quality is equal to Two/Three, but it contains few surprises for older fans. As such, it isn't much of a progression, but it does feel greatly satisfying, and not only for the comfort of finally completing the trilogy.

Although there's some room for improvement, Victory Lap is still a solid effort with the promise of better to come.

From start to finish, the album is a mix of complete swamp-rock songs, only to be broken up by confusing, short bursts of instrumentation.

Bay Dream is a great example of a band living up to the potential hinted at by their early work, and while day-one fans might be turned off by the album's cleaned-up production, it would be ungracious to begrudge a young band their newfound opportunities. Culture Abuse make the most of them here, with an album that should find its way into many a summer playlist.

On Infinite Moment, the Field proves that he's such a master of his craft that he can generate the same excitement from briefly moving outside the box as he can revelling back inside it.

There's still room to grow, but their adventurous spirit on display across the record will hopefully make for some compelling material moving forward.

Un Autre Blanc leaves everything out there and sees him go out on top.

Serving as an exercise in humility, Black Friday is a testament to the value of tenderness in a world steeped in trepidation. For new listeners, the album should function as a cohesive introduction to a band on the rise — and a great point of entry to an already impressive discography.

Powers is a surprisingly sturdy comeback album that sounds exactly how you remember the Futureheads, and that, at least for nostalgia's sake at least, isn't a bad thing at all.

While the sound splashed across Wrecked is quite gripping (exceptionally gritty electronic that heavily works the industrial angle), the lack of distinction within, and contrast between, tracks makes it tough to get behind.

Aloha is a pleasant-enough sounding slice of raspy-sounding soul with enough genuine emotion to spare.

Stetson does an admirable job finding ways to maintain a tone of persistent unease, but his compositional skills are tested by the film's reliance on abstract horror with occasional visceral shocks over any kind of concrete story or consistent character beats. Detached from the visuals it makes for a pretty bumpy ride.

LaMontagne seems more centered and confident as a songwriter this time around, imbuing the tunes with a sparseness that makes the whole effort more homemade and intimate.

Bonnetta casts a net that is wide as well as deeply personal, which creates a sound that is impressive both technically and in terms of the depth of inner exploration.

While this is likely not an album that will float them to the mainstream, it is one to be proud of.

Keepsake marks an assertive, confident step forward for Hatchie and Pilbeam is well on her way to carving out her own storied path.

Cracker Island is the most focused and least eclectic instalment in the band's discography — and for that reason, it absolutely breezes by.