With just about enough sonic variation to keep things interesting, there’s a more pristine, altogether more polished feel to this collection of tracks no doubt the result of an artist who’s getting closer to refining their craft.

While Freedom’s Goblin doesn’t exactly blow the doors off of his usual sound, it’s a solid addition to the canon that rattles between all corners of this self-made niche.

Nothing on this record is secure, but its transitions are hauntingly beautiful. It will not be for those who crave immediacy. Some tracks are far from an easy listen, but it was never meant to be.

bounty is a record that, whilst great to vibe out to, kind of feels a little stitched together piecemeal.

Whilst it's not the most cohesive electronic debut, there are some interesting ideas grounded in 'Order Of Noise' that are a jumping off point for Vessel's later material. This darker, more apocalyptic realm of electronic music is often cold and uninviting; sometimes that can work to its advantage but here, Gainsborough just falls short.

White Hot Moon is unassuming. It doesn’t start out or end with a defining statement but somewhere along the ride, the grind of day-to-day life is drowned out in a synthesis of reflection and fuzzy warmth.

The band balance loud and quiet better than ever on LP5, with the one-two of ‘The Maze’ and first single ‘The Gold’ that opens the record the perfect example. ‘The Alien’, meanwhile, is fiddly and intriguing, showing that A Black Mile To The Surface could transport the band to an entirely new world.

The delightfully obtuse and sometimes anxious sketches on Arcadia are what make it both enjoyable, and frustrating.

The Days Run Away is a simple, pleasant, good-at-what-it-does indie pop album, but nothing spectacular.

There isn’t much range across the record; the last few tracks merge into one. Which is disappointing given Peter’s track record for one, but overall there are plenty of highs and the downsides should be sorted by the next installment.

While its inconsistencies might betray the circumstances of its creation, it’s comforting to know that The Go! Team’s defiant experimentalism remains undiminished.

It's in the middle where the album begins to sag, thanks to some monotonous backings and noticeably weaker hooks ('Remote Control'/'Tell the Vision') which lead the runtime to become alarmingly apparent, before strong features on 'Keep My Spirit Alive', 'Moon' and 'Pure Souls' further begin to force Kanye awkwardly into the background on his own album. He positions himself closer to the spotlight towards the final third.

'Dry Land Is Not A Myth' is a mixed bag. Church's high-pitched voice could prove to be a bit marmite, as could the songs on here without much focus. Clocking in a couple minutes over a half-hour though, it's short enough to deserve at least one spin this summer.

Predictably, then, it's all too easy to 'find' (read: go searching for subconsciously or otherwise) shifts in the Welsh singer-songwriter's sound on this follow-up.

'Days Go By' doesn't catapult them back to their prime; there's a lot of issues that can be picked out, be it recognisable musicality or questionable song choices. Having said that, when The Offspring do get it right on this record, they are great.

This time, with their newest album, the band seem to want to give something back, and whilst obviously somewhat dark at moments, it comes loaded with joyous and celebratory sounds.

A genuinely pleasing aspect of this album is hearing Carter’s vocals dominate more than they have in the past. However, the pace of the second half is less full-throttle and less memorable for it.

Part folk, part neo-classical, part metal; The Miraculous could easily be pigeonholed as a gothic record--and sure, there are definitely elements of that.

It’s an album about what happens next rather than looking back. They might be a band in thrall to the 1960s but this is a record that tells us to live in the now.

In Roses is kind of a horrible record in a sense, praying on emotional weakness so aggressively--but, it's so achingly gorgeous, that it's hard not to dive in with a complete disregard for state of mind.

While the album may look backwards musically, Gonzalez has always been particularly adept at chronicling the world around him (in this case his Hackney stomping ground) to evoke a strong sense of place and keep the record firmly rooted in the here and now.

Take a step back from the ins and outs of the record and Simulation Theory stands as a ridiculous, bombastic stab of maximalism from one of the world’s biggest stadium rock bands.

Trim the fat and you’d wind up with a special record, but with those bizarre moments gone, The 1975 would also lose some of their bombastic charm.

With its high concepts and bold instrumentals the album feels a little heavy at times, but you really can’t fault its ambition.

While Kindly Now consequently makes for interesting, albeit heavy listening, the prospect of Henson’s next move is now all the more intriguing.

Wiped Out! is a fine wine in a sea of vodka Red Bulls, and having successfully mixed pop, rock and hip-hop together, it seems like they have finally defined their sound as a band.

M uch of ‘Stray’ could do with heeding its own advice; instead Bambara stay firmly on a strong but fairly predictable path.

Reasons To Believe is a worthy, if overtly reverent, addition to the steady stream of Hardin covers.... But some of these covers are overtly reverent because they fail to acknowledge this schism in the dark soul of the man.

An accomplished debut but surely only the mere beginnings of a promising career.

Too often This is Acting is steeped in unimaginative cliche, and leans too heavily on familiar pop tropes in a way that her previous solo albums did not.

Musically the album sees Eno experimenting with three-dimensional recording techniques, creating a sound that’s frequently panoramic and dislocating.

Fixion is not a traditionally cohesive record. It does not flow as whole, in fact it is all over the place, joined only by a sense of sonic darkness. But for a chameleon like Trentemøller, creativity is his cohesion, formula the enemy--and this is his most creative, experimental record yet.

Mykki is a promising starting point for some, a jump into a different league entirely for his following.

Your Friend’s unusual combination of the ultra-real with the unnatural world of electronic manipulation makes for a slightly unsettling final product.

Their past is a double-edged sword, but that doesn’t prevent Head Carrier from having its own unique strengths.

The visceral imagery and headlines that ushered in Suicide Songs ends up serving to hold it back a little; an album that’s excellent at times, but which arrived with preconceptions so strong that could never be matched.

It fits within its own logic, but no others, resulting in a succinct record that should be anything but.

Ultimately, this is either the musical equivalent of seeing your old clothes in a vintage store, or this album has been hardwired into our central nervous system.

On the one hand, Brutalism feels less bloated than any of its predecessors, and a number of sharp production touches ensure that some of its tracks are excellent. ... On the other hand, the album is missing some of The Drums’ lo-fi charm.

The Hold Steady are very much a band for their existing fans. There’s not anything here, whether the bar-room blues of ‘Blackout Sam’ or the jazz hands-aloft ’T-Shirt Tux’ that’s likely to win outsiders over.

If you pick and choose your way around the collection of jumbled songs on offer, maybe you’ll get the opportunity to revel in some speedy, sunny chimes for a little while, until that inevitable sundown, at least.

While their hooks are huge, there are moments within Limitless that seem too polished.

It’s an undeniably strong album, in which existing fans will find much to love. It just isn’t quite ‘Heartland’.

Steeped in decade-spanning traditions of pop, rock and folk, it’s an ambitious record marred only by early and apparent nonchalance.

Trick is a record that feels like a trip back into what he once was, only with all his senses heightened. ‘Grudge’ was polished; this is as rough and ready as it gets.

That’s definitely not to say that the more languorous tracks don’t have their beautiful moments, with the likes of ‘Lonely Blue’ and ‘Sublunary’ providing an emotional apex to the album. As it draws on though, it gets easier to think that a bit of brutality on the cutting room floor might only have been of benefit to The Ooz.

For the most part it works--a few repeated listens and the melodies and hooks bury themselves in the brain. But on tracks like ‘Car’ and ‘Be Apart’, Maine’s determination to retain that sense of despair can overshadow everything and cause some slight desensitivity.

If it could be more dynamic, there’s no doubting the precision of the songwriting, as each track digs its way into your brain, lodging itself in the shadows.

Gardens + Villa undoubtedly have many toys at which they're more than adept at manipulating--just a shame there aren't better songs for them to adorn.

The instrumentals are less head-on, giving way to subtleties that are new for WWPJ as intricate guitar lines meander alongside the vocal melodies, the touchpoint with the rest of the band’s back catalogue. The less dense sound swings between lightening the tone and turning it far more melancholy.

As to be expected in this setting, the collaborations are occasionally guilty of overindulgence.

Producing a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion, A Moment of Madness offers bawdy, top-of-the-room choruses on each of the first six track

It’s either aural comfort food, or all just a bit, well, obvious. It’s written to a formula for sure. But it’s one that’s served them well, nevertheless.

Human Ceremony isn’t anywhere near fault-free, but its charm arrives when the trio get ahead of themselves.

Aspects of the record come off slightly muddled.

Their formula is tastefully broken up by frantic drums on ‘CRACK METAL’, unsettling synths on ‘HATEFUL’ and the twisted pop of ‘ASHAMED’ that soars with the most memorable chorus on the record. Unfortunately, that chorus is an outlier on an album that can wash past with as much staying power as candyfloss in a puddle.

Sees The Light is a decent solo effort, but for the casual observer it might be worth saving your currency for the next Vivian Girls record.

These are tracks that could easily be ballads slipped into a Hot Chip record, but where there they’d be bolstered with synths and programmed beats, here they are stark and knowingly bold in their simplicity.

The signs for the band’s third aren’t too rosy, and yet their latest does go some way to showing the defter touch they first struck out with.

On the likes of ‘Enough,’ the layers of electronica and muffled beats become oddly oppressive, competing against her--and winning the battle. It’s in moments like this where Take Me Apart proves to be frustrating. When it’s at its best though, it’s an album that invites the listener to do just what its title invites.

The in-demand singer-songwriter-producer primes himself for new heights here - tapping into the hedonistic spirit of Studio 54, while applying a gloss that is very much of today.

McMorrow has shaken off the folk singer with a guitar tag to give us an album pregnant with intrigue, creativity and diversity.

The more you listen, the more you start to learn this is not an album of ‘Eleanor Rigby’s; it’s an album of ‘A Day in the Life’s.

‘Leaf Off/The Cave’ and ‘What Will’ are the strongest of the 10 new strands to this web, yet it is hard to assign priorities to what is a consistently good album.

It just falls short of completely engulfing your interest and really exposing itself as anything completely fresh and inspiring. It’s pretty in places, but you’re left wishing that it was truly beautiful.

Breton have made a record that draws upon their art foundations more than their first.

It’s an uneven listen, although that sometimes plays in its favour; Page’s vocal delivery is consistently unpredictable.

Kudos for another reinvention, but the best version of Kele probably sits nearer the middle of the spectrum.

It’s a confident release from a seasoned band still harbouring the energies of youth. Somewhat paradoxically however, it’s also a considered record, one that muses on the transient and a reminder of the importance of being able to appreciate what we’ve got, while we’ve got it.

A considered evolution from first minute to last, with no real enforced show in between, it may not be immediately obvious but by the end one truth remains clearer than ever, across a whole album--Mogwai can really do scale.

‘You Better Run’, while perfectly adequate, has the aura of ‘pub back room’ to its chugging riffs; it’s fine, but it’s largely filler. In general though, As You Were is almost certainly the best thing Liam’s offered us since he parted ways with his big bro.

For every moment which drifts slightly, there is another where they toss the superfluous and it all returns to tremendous, streamlined pop.

There’s a consistent sense of déjà vu that accompanies every melody, a pleasant sense of cosy familiarity, but also a like-ability running throughout.

Dylan Baldi’s vocals are presented in a somewhat hushed manner, turning what could be a bona fide rock banger (there’s a pep in this chorus, to be sure) into an also-ran. On the numbers that more closely resemble the Cloud Nothings trademark sound - see the melodic ‘Mouse Policy’, or the bright ‘The Golden Halo’ - it’s an ideal fit.

Individually the likes of ‘Time Will Be The Only Saviour’, with its creeping strings and weighty sorrow, or the Rizzo-quoting ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’, are tender, sad things, but as a whole piece, Yawn can wind up a claustrophobic listen.

While the form may feel familiar (think: a glitch-pop kissing cousin to Rufus Wainwright’s days as a balladeer, or a soft-shoe version of Patrick Wolf’s orchestral manoeuvres) a promising left-of-centre choice sets Fyfe apart from the pack of crooners.

Despite some stellar production and sparkling pop moments, it feels like there’s been little evolution in the duo’s sound in the five years since ‘Another Eternity’.

The whole record initially comes off like a collision of crackpot thoughts; abstract lyrics; abstract synthetics; all abstract everything. Eventually Lese Majesty exposes its rigid structure, giving hints of ‘Black Up’ but overall daring to go further and deeper than anything on the debut.

If Wolf Parade have spent six years wondering how they can sing about anything at all, it seems as though they’re still wondering. Just this time the quartet turned the mic on as they pondered.

The strength of A.L.L.A is when Rocky dodges the conventional diss tracks and instead tells his story without any strings attached.

Eucalyptus is a dense and challenging listen, but while it might alienate post-‘Merriweather Post Pavilion’ converts to Animal Collective, it might bring back those who loved ‘Campfire Songs’ but have felt disenfranchised since.

At times, No Tourists feels like a companion to their debut. That was the night out and this is the morning after’s hangover. While this isn’t vintage Prodigy, it gets pretty damn close and gives hope there is still life in the old dog yet.

Caramel is certainly a strange album, but it’s not alienating or difficult to engage with.

Cold Pumas peddle a kind of post-punk that’s long since been done to death by this point; it takes real ingenuity to find a way to imbue this particular template with genuinely new energy, and on this evidence, they haven’t found that yet.

There’s plenty to discover here on a diverse record that takes a lot of interesting turns, and while there are some unsuccessful moments, there’s also plenty for indie-pop fans to get their teeth stuck into.

Routines isn’t an album that’s going to change the world, but it is a pretty good reminder to stop, slow down and take things in once in a while.

The beefing up of Girlpool’s sound on Powerplant works marvellously in parts, but at points serves to dilute the individuality the pair presented on their debut.

These songs [The Trapper and the Furrier, Tornadoland, and Obsolete] are, ironically, more cinematic than anything found on her last album ‘What We Saw From The Cheap Seats,’ and that sense of drama helps make Remember Us To Life a return to form.

Too much of the album’s mid-section is plagued by Kele’s whimper, and the experimentation with guitar sounds sometimes prioritises method over melody, but there’s diamonds in the rough that shine as bright as the best of Bloc Party.

Her detached, precise narration leaves little to hold onto, and over 15 tracks, you begin to long for a little more emotion. Still, these productions are dark, atmospheric - she knows exactly how to conjure up a mood. It’s just that it’s slightly too forbidding to ever fully feel at home.

The opening three numbers shine, showing a refreshing sound bursting at the seams with positivity, but the lack of variety means that, by the end, you may feel slightly bludgeoned by it all.

The message of US Girls hides under an instrumental output which is far more intriguing than its lyrics--the music is a bit too good for its political musings to be wholeheartedly focused on.

It’s refreshing to see that the band aren’t content to solely focus on nostalgia trips, and there are some great moments here - the dark driving force of ‘Wyttch’ stands out - but with such a hefty run time, it’s difficult to really tap into the heart of ‘Cyr’.

Wicked Nature goes on for much too long, leaving it just as forgettable as the rest.

‘(self-titled)’ is Vegemite: the same, but different. When he strips it right back - ‘Prior Warning’, with its bleak reminiscing reflected by a sonic hark back to the London scene in which he made his early name, and the stark ‘Dangerous Game’, where Marcus’ voice allowed to linger for just the right amount of time - there’s a warm quality to his songwriting that seeps through.

For listeners craving substance served side-by-side with flash, Lower Dens’ world is one worth exploring. The band may be at their most accessible, but they’re not about to make it easy.

The positives are overshadowed by petulant observations to politics which is hard to take seriously when dire lyrics like "Yabba dabba do one, Son."

There's a lack of progression from previous albums that makes Heavy Mood a bit of a disappointment.