Days Are Gone confirms what everybody already knew in fabulous style; that Haim are the band to shout about.

Though the London band don’t exactly attack in a fist-raised blaze of mega-riffs, they hit hard all the same with quick, sharp, and consistently executed blows of effortless songwriting.

Soft Will marks Smith Westerns moving into another realm of quality and experimentation, and, to put it quite simply, this album is just a complete pleasure to listen to.

A listen that encourages looking inwards and coming to the kind of realisations Welsh himself has poured into the album, a record it’s impossible not to be swept up by.

Doing it with a little help from his friends, he's easily landed on his best album yet, out of any guise taken on in the last 10 years.

An invigorating, thrashing effort - which is ultimately also a lot of fun - ‘Glow On’ shows off just how innovative hardcore could become.

Enduringly addictive and devoid of arty pretentiousness, MIEN is evidently an album made by true connoisseurs of psychedelic music both old and new. Like-minded audiophiles will find plenty to cheer about across these ten tracks.

Weaves is a whole lot of fun, from the deliciously raucous standout ‘One More’ to the delicate ‘Eagle’ via the whimsical ‘Coo Coo’ and the Pixies-ish ‘Two Oceans’.

At once bleak, grey and obsessed with morbidity, and lush, blooming and gorgeous, it’s great to have them back.

Overall, ’High Road’ is an overwhelmingly triumphant pop offering that sees Kesha back at her best and having shit tons of fun while doing it.

In typical Soccer Mommy fashion, there’s little flashy footwork to be found here; only expertly-shaped understated songs that give more with every listen. Stepping beyond the groundwork of her debut collection, and sounding all the more confident for it, Sophie Allison shoots, and she scores.

It’s verbose and it aims high and it’s not a record you can stick on in the background while you play Candy Crush. But unplug from this modern game of life just for a little while and it’s a very, very special reward indeed.

Bella may not have enjoyed bringing ‘Quarter Life Crisis’ to life, but in facing her insecurities head on she chips away at the pristine Baby Queen polish and pairs her distinct brand of pop with real substance.

The Britain of 2013 may be a place full of dread in Primal Scream’s world but that sense of anger has prompted them to deliver an extremely impressive return that’s brash, bold and often brilliant.

Back to their scrappy, atonal, lo-fi sound of the band's early days it mightn't be, 'In The Belly Of The Brazen Bull' is still a good album which sees The Cribs exploring new sounds and old – stumbling upon some truly excellent songs in the process.

‘Feel Life’ and ‘Steady’ resolve this darkness, both euphoric and knowing - and beautiful sonically - while ‘Blood Moon’ addresses feeling disappointed in yourself, and what you need to do to push through and make things right. ‘When We Stay Alive’ is emotionally raw, elegantly presented and at many parts a real tear-jerker. Wonderful stuff.

Amateurish, but defiantly unperturbed, this is a grave and momentous listen.

There’s plenty here to push The National’s sound forwards and stave off stagnation.

From the wonky stomp of ‘Double Denim Hop’, through the ballsy vocals of ‘Stockholm City Rock’ to the unashamedly massive riffs of recent single ‘Hollywood Actors’, frontman Tom Rees doubles down on the things that clearly make him tick.

It’s a record of personal growth in its most authentic form. It’s nice to finally hear the whole story.

At times, the record is a grower. Off the bat, the singles sell the release but other numbers require additional listens to click. Having said that, once you hear that click this record is completely blinding.

It’s an engaging listen and a jarring template that perfectly captures a disquietened and uneasy era.

These 14 tracks are so sonically rich with a multitude of textures, each listen peeling back just one measly layer; Molly’s vocal hooks and turns of phrase will remain in your brain days after the last listen.

An unpredictable but spectacular ride through pop, rock and everything in between, it’s hard not to bowled over by Urie’s efforts yet again.

Musically rose-tinted, ‘Poster Girl’ is pure pop escapism.

The inevitable result is a crisper, more polished sound.

An intelligent and, most importantly, a cathartic album it allows Ghostpoet to shed his worries in the most eloquent and interesting ways.

Those looking for 24/7 simple, saccharine sun and smiles may be jarred in a few odd points; but the rest of us can enjoy the added punch and intensity that Be Slowly brings to the table.

If Temples needed to prove that they were more than talented revivalists, then Volcano should silence the doubters. Sure, you’re unlikely to find a Stormzy sample buried within its midst, but Temples’ second statement shows that innovation and notable progress can still sound classic.

They follow through with their gaudy intentions perfectly, and like an outdated sci-fi film filled with dodgy costumes and flaky green-screen, ‘Man It Feels Like Space Again’ manifests itself in bold, kitschy, and psychedelic appeal from start to finish.

It’s a smart pop record that’s doused in self-awareness but still direct in its assertiveness - and never not compelling.

In its final form, Wilsen’s debut is big and bright, melodic guitar lines sprinkled across the whole thing.

‘Good Luck’ is undoubtedly at its best when Debby is going full-pelt to evoke those early-noughties electroclash moods, but there’s barely a misplaced beat throughout.

In short, Silences is the sound of an artist grown tremendously in confidence and hitting her stride.

The follow-up, a more considered harnessing of all that raw potential, shows just what they’re capable of.

Like the heady themes on Sun Structures, Temples appear to be a group still ascending to a brighter sphere.

Young Magic borrow influences from all over the place and transform them into a sound they can proudly call their own.

Fans of Fucked Up’s more experimental efforts may be left slightly underwhelmed by Glass Boys, but for what is at heart a hardcore band, it is still a hugely ambitious and exciting record, that hits top gear almost immediately and barely shifts down until the final piano melody of its eponymous closer.

A lot of the songs are solid hits in the making.

‘I Thought I Was Better Than You’ proves a valuable insight into who Baxter Dury is.

An album of stirring highs and deeply intimate confessions takes the traditional live album to a new level.

Indulgent by design but illuminated with imagination, it takes a few listens for the LP’s diamonds to truly shine, but when they do, they really shine bright.

‘Angels & Queens – Part I’ is nothing if not an intense listen.

‘Expired Candy’ is a whole lot more fun than its sour, stale name might suggest.

For those who like their light-hearted empty-headed fun to contain a certain amount of concealed depth, Dynamics certainly does the trick.

Another triumph.

It’s all gorgeously rich in both sound and delivery.

Regardless of tone or subject, she fills every lyric with a divine authenticity and matter-of-factness. Her vocals are delicate but always immediate, sitting somewhere between Angel Olsen’s dulcet croon and the twinkle of Sufjan Stevens. In short, Stella Donnelly has got the world in her palm, and the brain to do exactly what she wants with it.

Innovative, cerebral and yet totally accessible, Total Strife Forever is an incredibly impressive record.

Packed with wit, super-sharp song-writing, and charged with Diet Cig’s now-distinctive personality, Swear I’m Good At This should probably be called ‘Swear I’m Fucking Ace At This’ instead for higher accuracy levels.

An understated kaleidoscope of beautiful arrangements, raw emotion and literate songwriting that is nothing less than moving.

Though Weather Diaries is a solid effort from a band trying to balance their mastery of shoegaze with other, outside elements, the strongest tracks on Weather Diaries are when the band fully embrace the skeleton of the songwriting formula they’d perfected over two decades ago.

They might not have returned to their hardcore roots, but Ceremony have veered off into an abyss of misery of despair again, and they’re back on track because of it.

On White Women, even the dodgy in-jokes are drowned out by astute songwriting.

The perfect soundtrack to the festival season and those long days when you sit in the shade with a cool drink.

His sixth LP employs a rich palate in its production seamlessly blending trap beats with soul samples and orchestral flourishes.

It’s more of a slow burner--not so instantly gratifying as previous works--but the atmosphere of these tracks really gets beneath you. It’s their most affecting work to date by some stretch.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

This latest effort from Australian trio Methyl Ethel is a lithe, sinewy creature, by turns weighted and buoyant, half darkness and half shimmering light.

A decidedly more organic record; buoyant and witty, and notably shy of meandering eight-minute odysseys.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’

Flourish // Perish is a thoroughly rewarding listen.

It’s unlikely to win over the naysayers, but, for those already enamoured with their kitchen sink Dadaism, ‘Stumpwork’ is yet more magic from Dry Cleaning.

Choreography is tailor made alternative pop of the highest degree, with enough ear friendly, sing-a-long melodies to entice even the 'older' generation.

An album without an obvious theme or concept it may be, but somehow, it’s still quintessentially The Killers. It may not be the all-out stadium epic we’ve come to expect from the band but it’s still wonderful (wonderful).

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

This record is a set of huge songs that’ll cement their place at the top of rock’s ranks and so much more.

The Joy Formidable have made the statement they needed to with AAARTH--it’s an album of compositional daring and fierce experimentation.

It’s vulnerable, it’s heartfelt, and above all it feels real.

The same but different, more polished yet more heartfelt, forceful yet calm.

Stonechild is an exercise in top-level songwriting, stately and intelligent.

Until The Tide Creeps In is a record totally out of step with any modern music scene, and all the more timeless and special for it.

Taken together, the albums are overwhelming in their stylistic diversity; one minute, she’s serving up clattering electro on the likes of iii’s ‘Skullqueen’ or ‘Ripples’, and the next, we’re hearing her break classic ideas of what ambience should mean to fit her own mould on the Oliver Coates-featuring ‘Esuna’.

Tightly paced electronic seams blur with floating chamber pop and global influences, warding off any sense of inertia on an album that has one foot in the worldly and another in the firmament.

Her straight-forward, down to business flow is all part of removing that mask. It’s an unflinching look at what such a sudden rise can do to a young person, and the anxieties that the public never see.

Measured and calm where ‘I, Gemini’ was erratic, and packing some of the strongest pop punches we’ve heard in yonks, Let’s Eat Grandma look like they could go anywhere from here.

With every listen there’s something else to hear, something new to discover, and something different to feel.

In short, it sounds like Weezer. Those magic chord changes, the wiry guitar licks, Rivers Cuomo’s awkward, faltering vocals--these may be brand new songs, but they’re all so immediately familiar that, as the title may suggest, they create one almighty aural comfort blanket.

At only four tracks in length, Cheatahs’ contemporaries will struggle to compete with a record twice as long.

This was bold move for Joyce Manor, but one that exemplifies exactly why they're loved.

‘Lifetime’ remains one of the album’s strongest pursuits; lovestruck and introspective, each beat keenly felt. The album revels in this on a whole; a lovelorn sheen which dances between interludes. It’s less dancefloor filler, more earnest confessions and professions of absolute adoration.

‘Midnight Manor’ is dripping with exuberant charm; The Nude Party might throw back to the past, but there’s clearly some very present ambition here too.

Overtly joyous and bulging with emotions both past and present, this album displays Best Coast at their most content.

While the heavy beats and hooky vocals guarantee fruitful foot-tapping rewards, there’s also an abundance of obnoxious sound effects lurking around every corner. Snapped Ankles revel in this kind of chaos, though, so as far as they’re concerned, it’s mission accomplished.

This album is a little less concept-narrative driven than previous releases, but not to any ill-effect. Instead, Clipping have reached both their most distilled output - this is a once-in-a-generation band reaching their peak.

Washed Out himself stumbled first time round, even. Here he creates a fuller piece, totally unconcerned with its context and its audience. Hence why it excels.

A masterclass in reinventing ‘70s rock for a ‘20s audience, Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard are a captivating oddity.

It’s a record swathed in simple but effective neo-soul melodies, echoing Chance, but also early 00s R&B with its gentle pianos and smattering of light hi-hats and percussion. Warner’s own languid style of delivery only adds to the lilting nature.

On The Far Field Future Islands have captured their humanity in all its sparkling, chaotic glory.

By weaponising his introspection and pushing his impeccably high standards outwards, Vince Staples delivers an incredible State of the Union address on rap today.

Liverpool duo King Hannah fling themselves into sweltering dust-bowl deserts on startling debut ‘I’m Not Sorry, I Was Just Being Me’ - a narcotic, seductive adventure of squelchy Mazzy Star psych-blues, Portishead-ing trip hop and rainy-day folkishness.

In this bubbling cauldron that refuses to be contained, Asher finds the liberation he’s been searching for.

An incredibly accomplished effort from a band who have truly found their feet.

City living might sometimes feel like a constant high-intensity assault course, but City Music and its creator make it sound like an enlightening, emboldening adventure.

Future Present Past more than proves The Strokes are as important a band in 2016 as they’ve ever been.

Not a punk record for people who like Blink-182 but a punk record for people who like punk.

On ‘A Fistful of Peaches’ Black Honey have doubled down on what’s worked for them to date, while offering a glimpse at potential future directions.

There's a bewitching quality to it which suggests Clinic actually only exist in some form of musical vacuum. And right now, that sounds like a most spellbinding place to be.