The welsh trio have taken their time to reach this point, but with The Big Roar they have taken their opportunity with great style, producing what I think is a mature, clever and exceptionally listenable record from start to finish--and that's a mighty thing.

Most of Ambulance tends to cast a shadow on their most riotous tendencies, but there are still surprises to be found; the more sanguine Blair Dagger almost sounds out of place with its salacious tremolo strains, though it also highlights the band at their most playfully engaged.

While it seemingly ends in the same place it starts (Bognanno singing on loop “I don’t know what I wanted” isn’t really a positive ending), this is Bully’s best project yet, lacing all of their marvelous qualities into a candid and catchy molotov cocktail.

Fullbrook mottles sonic accouterments throughout with graceful finesse, though sometimes at the expense of songs that dissolve into a foggy blur.

The material is strong but rarely achieves greatness.

Its searing synths and chopped vocals can feel unjustified as a whole, but the songcraft is strong and the style supports some of its best moments.

More so than Wounded Rhymes or Youth Novels, I Never Learn is a record for a radio-loving crowd who wouldn’t have a problem with the lack of variety in content matter or the relative sameness in sound and composition.

Object 47 is proof that Wire’s edge remains as sharp as ever.

It’s an arc that she manages to complete with her conceptual solo trilogy, and though the pop chart-minded songs devalue the album’s more adventurous pursuits, Richard is still devoted to push her art in new, unexplored directions.

Not only does Undercard not disappoint--there are more than a couple earworms here and there--but it's brilliant and fresh from two musicians who aren't exactly freshmen to the scene.

Molly Rankin’s vocals throughout the record compliment the soundscapes perfectly, fanning disappointment with hope whilst exercising a great deal of control--and an admirable lack of bias--over her ponderings.

With Jinx, we get to see a promising band push their sound outward and gracefully mature, even if it doesn’t always floor you as immediately as some of Sports’ loudest moment do.

Thought it doesn't make an impression at first glance, The Chaos crosses The Futureheads' entire discography into a wholly satisfying package.

While still featuring the repetition and reverb that embodies much of Lennox's work, Tomboy is more divisible, and more accessible for a downloaded generation, or listeners looking to simply dabble their toes.

Perfect Pussy constantly find new ways to stimulate that teenage bit of your brain that wants to scream and punch things and has a lot of things to say but doesn’t know how to say them.

Where The Volunteers falls down, surprisingly, is in the excessively slick production. Despite the ethos and lyrics, musically this is not the handmade, indie effort you might expect.

To really get the most from Margerine Eclipse, consume it in its entirety in one sitting: songs that appear to be fairly average when dipped into randomly take on new elements when they take their place in the overall sequence.

The band is categorically known for their disciplined uniformity, an approach that gives the band more room to inject more personality into their straightforward rhythm section; seeing as the indie rock landscape has also considerably changed, it’s actually a welcome throwback that’s aged well.

Asleep on the Floodplain is more than an acoustic showcase.

Weirdon is a melodic and enjoyable rock album.

Payola picks off right where their last one left off while completely ignoring that the past decade even happened, which sounds like a harder feat then it might appear.

While Lekman certainly knows how to use a sample, it is his songwriting talent, his storytelling ability, and above all his remarkable emotional honesty that make I Know What Love Isn't the finest achievement of his career.

Rave Tapes is a cohesive piece of work, its perspective blended despite variance in approach.

Her voice single-handedly eliminates all accusations of the sameness that could be shot at the songs, evens the pace of the album, and although it may not make up for the album's flaws entirely, it certainly helps hide them and is reason enough on its own to find enjoyment on this album.

Trouble in Paradise is at once sleek and solid, every track pulsing with a kind of confidence that invites closer listening but is equally pleasant as a collection of mood-heightening jams.

Memoirs at the End of the World, as ambitious as it seems, never seems to overstate it’s welcome.

1,000 Years is an uplifting album, despite some of the painful imagery. Sometimes wallowing in the past isn't such a bad thing, especially when, like it did for Corin Tucker, it moves you forward.

Although there's nothing spectacular or innovative here, it has to be difficult to simultaneously have a foot in a variety of styles while constructing something that's this easy to listen to.