A feather-light collection of alt-country, packed with pedal steel, lilting melodies and Buck’s own evocative Texan burr.

Cave Rave is outlandish, silly, summery and as brilliant as its title, and Crystal Fighters have somehow managed to continue in making their seemingly unattainable mix of traditional instrumentation and ideas and dubby electronics work without disaster.

If you were expecting a post-rock album, you've come to the wrong place; this is something sharper, more accessible, sure, but no less clever.

The few hints towards more modern fare - the undulating yet ultimately forgettable ‘Whirlpool’, closer ‘Everything’s Been Leading To This’ with its ‘80s keys and distinctly ‘00s indie air - could’ve been left on the cutting room floor, but overall ‘Reset’ is as warm a listen as Sonic Boom’s near-forgotten records must’ve been in lockdown Lisbon.

A curious album that is well worth investigating.

London Grammar have created an album of graceful sophistication.

While songs like 'Significant Bullet' and 'Leominster' feel like slightly unnecessary inclusions and can cause the listening experience to drag slightly, this is a very impressive record with some truly excellent songs.

In sound, it sits somewhere between the sparse nature of ‘folklore’ and the overt pop of ‘Midnights’, across its two hours settling into a steady pace that forgoes massive fan favourites in favour of a continuous pull on the heartstrings. The issue with a two-hour album is that you’re not going to hit the mark on every track (no song should have three exclamation marks in the title), and it’s tricky to keep momentum when the name of the game is introspective storytelling.

While it occasionally feels lacking in the kind of explosive energy that made the band such an impact in the late ‘80s, it still captures the spirit of Pixies in a way that’s extremely satisfying.

While they could go darker, grizzlier, or even shinier, I Love You achieves what few debuts can, by making one hell of an opening statement.

Evans The Death's debut album is full of promise in bitesize two-minute chunks, and we can expect to see more from them in the future.

Geese manage to add interesting new wrinkles to their sound, suggesting that, in time, the post-punk rulebook could yet be ripped up all over again.

A more pure and intense sound, less manufactured and acutely heartfelt.

Emotionally honest, across its twelve tracks the group detail feelings of longing, losing your sense of self and awaiting something more in a wholly atmospheric manner. Ripping up their rulebook? Hardly. Giving long-time fans something new to enjoy? You bet.

Young Dreams have created a collection that compacts all the sunny sounds of youthful hopes and expectations into one blissful whole.

They're bold, they're tight in their production and they're not afraid to strip things back to their bare essentials or allow outside influences to shine through.

Across twelve polished tracks, Jade switches from piano ballad to stomping singalong and back again, full of bold choruses and raw, ricocheting vocals.

They aren’t going to be for everyone - and this might not be a record that converts new fans in their droves - but pre-existing fans should be happy.

While this second album seems genuine, and at times very good, it just doesn't excite and satisfy in quite the same way as the spontaneous creativity of the debut. 'Gossamer' is one giant juxtaposition that can't quite sit comfortably.

Though starkly different in tone to his debut, ‘Orca’ remains inherently ‘Gus Dapperton’ with his signature growling vocals and effortless alt-pop grooves and indie licks showcasing an artist stepping up musically, while also finding strength in his vulnerability.

At times it's so polite and elegant it almost passes you by, yet on every song you're soon gently overpowered by the sheer heart and homespun wisdom of the lyrics.

The War on Drugs are reliable - not in the sense that they’re workhorses, but more in that Adam’s years-long close study of guitar rock has now evidently become an incontestable mastery.

The echoic wisps and nebulous smoke clouds from their first album have been significantly dialled-back, resulting in a more taut, wiry sound that feels both more focussed and more sinister.

As is always the case with albums of this nature that brim top-to-toe with guests, it’s sometimes hard to locate the thread that runs through it all. Nevertheless, there’s a terrific bounty to be enjoyed in the centre of the Vernon-Dessner Venn diagram.

Think the organised chaos of ‘70s NYC post-punk, or even the near-drone of erstwhile Leeds rockers Eagulls. And even as snarking on social media has moved into decidedly passe territory, the chorus of ‘Connect To Consume’ does remain a stellar one.

Throughout the record, Doja has the method for seeing soaring stats down: Instagram caption ready lyrical quips, a flurry of famous pals (The Weeknd and JID also appear), and an effortless kaleidoscopic pop soundtrack backing it all up.

More than anything though this is a record which feels warmed by summer sun, reminiscent of misty sunsets to blistering mid-mornings it listens like an album made by a band from California rather than New York.

It feels darker an offering than some of their earlier work, more textured and full of otherworldly sound effects that often only become obvious on multiple listens.

A melting pot of the band’s real-life influences - with more elements of dance and hip hop thrown into their rock hybrid than ever before - this is a version of You Me At Six we’ve never seen before, and it’s certainly bold.

If we're honest, the first half of the album, title track aside, is slightly cringeworthy, both in terms of music and the production. But the whole record is redeemed, beautifully, by the last three tracks.

With fewer hands stirring the pot this time around, she’s had ample opportunity to come even more into her own, pulling off the bouncy, subtly ska-influenced WLW bop ‘hover like a GODDESS’ and introspective guitar pop groove of ‘curious/furious’ and ‘ur a stranger’ with stylish ease. Most intriguing, perhaps, are her forays into post-hardcore, unleashing a tremendous scream over the top of crunching guitars in the dying moments of ‘ it’s my fault’, but not everything goes quite so smoothly.

With a bit more focus and a more cohesive feel running throughout it, this could've been a great record. As it is, perhaps as a result of their success to date and the expectation it undoubtedly brings, it feels almost like a missed opportunity.

Sonnymoon have taken all that we know of our earthly pop, and reconstructed them through the eyes of an alien, and as their first official attempt, it's a pretty good one.

While his vocal delivery sounds as though he’s having to force each word out through cracked lips at the end of a long night, the accompanying music fits perfectly.

It's a bold step, and one that can't quite sustain itself but Blood Speaks is a force of nature, and in more senses than one.

It finds him at his most confident, if not most innovative, and maybe his most comfortable.

Despite the swirling joy of ‘Julie’ also making for a high point, moments like these aren’t consistent enough to propel ‘Banane Bleue’ towards its potential peaks. They do however show that, when he delivers, Frànçois can still make pure, earnest, and enduring connections.

This is a feel-good hug of an album, which will transport you to the care-free, peace and love West Coast in a matter of minutes.

It’s a strange, industrial trip that’s full of experimentation. Kim’s signature vocal style - a kind of husky, gasping whisper - is as recognisable as ever, though. And like with the best moments of her career, here she is uncompromising in her artistic vision.

The free jazz of the title track grates and some of the record falls a little bit into the background and seems almost too polite at times but Mars is a sophisticated and beguiling album full of wonder.

Because ‘You’ll Pay’, ‘Read Em And Weep’, ‘Only Love’, ‘Fever Tree’ (a charming cover of William Bell’s ‘I Forgot To Be Your Lover’), and ‘Don’t Let Me Go’ are all peppered with a shimmering strut, and the kind of euphoria that’s surely only a well-filmed choreo sequence away from the kind of virality enjoyed by Jungle of late. And this is a lane that fits The Black Keys like a glove.

Each song sounds like it has an endearing air to it. At times the lack of polish can be grating, but there are moments of delicacy and sensitivity that create a more rounded record than seems to exist on first listen.

Recycled though some of these tales may be--his notable past tends to weave its way into much of his work--sung with his Southern drawl and playful hollers, Seasick Steve just about has the charm and vigour to carry them through.

There’s an altogether calmer atmosphere on display here, that in its beauty forgoes some of the immediacy that characterised her earlier catalogue’s stand-out moments.

An intriguing album befitting of a fascinating man.

It's very different, and whether or not it's better than The Mars Volta is a debate for others; what is clear is that Omar Rodriguez Lopez--and friends--still have a lot more to offer.

It's a short and sweet affair, clocking in at just over half an hour, but Splashh don't need any longer than that to make their stamp.

True North, with its concise (only one song breaks the three minute barrier) bursts of dissatisfaction and alienation, includes some of the strongest, most focused material that the band have recorded in many years.

Throughout the record, Fenne provides a poignant glimpse into the uncertainty surrounding your whole life changing in front of you.

It's patchy, but when English Little League is good, it's great.

His identity is in constant flux, making for a revealing and honest listen from one of the most-hyped artists of 2022 so far.

Scattered with the odd moment that’ll leave you in no doubt that Woolhouse is far from the finished product, he nonetheless offers glimpses of a talent that is at times unrivalled.

Though 'Europe' is an enchanting and elegant record, this is not a giant leap forward.

If it's right to say that 'Circles' sticks close to what has come before, it also proves that Moon Duo are masters of their craft.

Sam’s latest finds them exploring self-acceptance and self-growth across their now-classic style of soul-tinged pop. ... While ’Unholy’’s catchy melodies may be elsewhere untouchable, it breaks down the boundaries of topics to explore throughout the rest of ‘Gloria’.

Their fourth studio album simultaneously searches for hope as it candidly condemns their surroundings. ‘Self Worth’ looks to find just that, violently expelling all that is wrong to settle on inner peace. That anger is palpable, from the jarring opening of ‘Stay There’ to the minimalist bass and accompanying cries of ‘Apathy’.

There’s a real sense of space, Squirrel Flower already showing herself to be an artist comfortable in her own skin. They aren’t all hushed ballads though, the instrumentation even verges on grungy at times, but make no mistake, there’s an absolute flow here. An accomplished first full-length.

In drawing together all his disparate styles in to one distinct context, [Wolf] might have created his most accomplished album yet: albeit one that is a little too long, and rather in love with itself.

Clash The Truth is an accomplished album that should see Beach Fossils leave behind lo-fi slacker pop's balmy evenings.

This is an album's cutting room floor yet each song still retains Hutchison's instantly recognisable Scottish drawl, infectious hooks and intelligent lyrics.

Had they filtered the cacophony of ideas a little more, ‘Notes…’ could have matched ‘A Brief Inquiry…’ as a modern-day classic; as it stands, its legacy looks set to be slightly more conditional.

As has become customary for The Leisure Society, Hemming's lyrics and gift for storytelling once again stand out, his wonderful couplets and warm voice helping to lift many of the weaker moments here above torpor.

Driven by Zara’s unwavering vocals and energetic delivery, ‘Venus’ is icy, crystallised and super fun - “fit for a goddess,” she says - and, aside from being a slight hodgepodge of genres, it’s a lush flex of skill.

This one does find itself running out of steam a little towards its conclusion without enough robust new ideas. For the most part, though, this bold experiment pays off, and Fucked Up can be admired for their ambition as much as they can for their enviable productivity.

Closer ‘Cyboogie’, the cheesy, sci-fi-inspired lead single from the LP, is by far the most tepid of the set, as if marking the roll of the end-credits and a collective sigh of relief. With that being said, do not doubt that King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard still know how to kick ass.

Planta is the sound of a band rejuvenated, a diverse yet cohesive effort that tightens the sonic screws without losing any of the warmth and identity they’ve managed to create for themselves.

While the unique sonics and instrumentation of this album are notably brilliant, they at times feel disjointed on a track-to-track basis.

Its title track, 'The Capitol' and 'Fenix' are all pleasant enough but lack any real dynamic and verge on the point of becoming fillers. Those are only minor niggles for an accomplished album though.

There are some wonderful moments, the single ('We No Who U R') and the title track are starkly magnificent, but the general feel is a bit of a comedown.

There’s no question that a little bit of Lido’s formidable live energy is lost in the translation here, but ‘Miss Colombia’ remains a vibrant, accessible introduction to her boundary-defying body of work.

The lo-fi pop is still there, it’s just more precise and glossier.

Like one imagines a night out curated by the Scissor Sister himself, cues shift from pure pop disco to ‘80s maximalism (the almost-instrumental ‘8 Ball’ makes like an extended 12” remix).

Folila's best moments do inadvertently serve as a reminder of how good Amadou & Mariam are without the hired help.

‘Miss Anthropocene’ is undoubtedly the singer’s darkest album yet, the result perhaps of a rollercoaster half-decade or maybe just of an artist who’s never really given two fucks about playing the radio-friendly commercial game.

It's a unique record in the wider sense, but maybe less so within the band's own back catalogue--if you've yet to be snake-charmed by the occasionally venomous but oh-so-shiny Black Moth Super Rainbow, this is certainly a good place to start.

Unoriginal, yes, but while some elements can verge on sounding a bit tired in places, the notable musical lineage it follows gives The Mountain Moves the potential to be as timeless as it is conventional.

So Versions, the answer to the question of what happened when Zola Jesus met JG Thirlwell with orchestral intentions, is a success.

Anyone hoping for 'The Eraser' to fledge further results will be similarly dumbfounded. But taken at token value, Amok is a very fine work indeed.

A thread of hope and resilience runs through, via bright, surfy punk and power pop.

As a debut, Melbourne is about as honest an expression as it comes.

Sure, single ‘Shockwave’ and ‘Be Still’ plod slightly, but Liam’s second is a whole lot more sentimental. ... Elsewhere, love song ‘Halo’ jams like the ‘Stones’ ‘Let’s Spend The Night Together’, the title track hints at later Weller, and - of course - there’s an unmistakeable Beatles-esque guitar solo on ‘Meadow’. All of which are references welcome to anyone who’s stuck around for Liam’s new stuff.

Anything In Return is an album applicable to plenty of palettes.

In a world where musicians can feel pressured to release albums year after year, Maisie took her time with this one, resulting in an album that could well be timeless.

Often on 'Awe Naturale', the songs are suddenly cut off before they get into their stride and leave you wanting more of their soulful jams with a rap twist. Regardless, this is a largely enjoyable debut from this versatile duo.

You can be left feeling drained and exhausted after listening. What is clear, though, that if you give yourself over to it it is incredibly rewarding.

Tom isn’t reinventing the wheel here, but he knows what he’s good at; ‘Miracle’ is a skillfully crafted record.

It's fair to say that there are no real surprises here but what we do get is a solid collection of retro tinged songs that will appeal to fans of their previous work.

The result is a tight, neat little package of postcard pop, as radio-friendly as ever, embossed with Field Music's auteur sound.

Between The Walls is wonderfully unhinged; it just still needs a little more structure.

It’s a record of two halves; the former a collection of evocative vignettes, the latter a vehicle for her impressive vocal. And while the latter does have its moments - closer ‘Weekend’ is the kind of sprawling epic that brings to mind earlier Jessie Ware - it’s in the first half, shorn of any jazzy accompaniment, that ‘Be Right Back’ is truly interesting.

While the relentless realisation of their film-ready stylings may not be to everyone's tastes, the fact they're here at all in the first place is a cause worth celebrating in itself.

The concept is interesting, it fits well with the sonic ambitions of the band, and for the most part it flows effectively and has good changes of timing and pace.

It may not be one for the impatient listener--Centralia can drone a little in places, and almost touches on music reminiscent of that you'd relax to while having a deep tissue massage. But take the time to listen properly and you'll realise it's beautifully crafted.

‘Ultra Mono’’s step towards a more neoliberalistic message of positivity does serve to take some of the wind out of IDLES’ sails. If ‘Ultra Mono’ is their attempt to critique their own pedestal, it might not read as radical as they would have liked.

It’s a record you have to give the space it deserves, rather than dip in and out of. That said, there are still some tracks that are especially sumptuous (‘Healing Hurts’, ‘Out Of This World’), that call attention to the fact that this is her musical cosmos, aware of its own self-indulgences, and no worse for it.

The result is a set of nine songs, each one brimming with musical interest and experimentation.

Esben And The Witch's second LP is a thrilling, goosebump-raising collection of songs that will be in heavy rotation for the rest of the year (and beyond).

'My Head Is An Animal' doesn't disappoint. Endearing, exciting, and downright enjoyable throughout, it is one of the finest debuts of the year so far.