All dials are turned up to eleven for PVRIS’ fourth album. .... Sometimes it means they possess a heaviness not found since the outfit’s rockier days of old, such as in the industrial clatter of ‘HYPE ZOMBIES’, but it may be an acquired taste, and occasional moments feel overcooked, such as on the juddering early single ‘ANIMAL’. Elsewhere, however, are a plethora of cast-iron, genreless bangers, some of which are the catchiest tracks Lynn Gunn has put her name to.

Both ‘Fountain’ and ‘Sweet Memz’ are solemn, sobering pieces. This delicacy is a little muted at times, lacking the sharp, alluring production of the record’s opening, instead closing out in hushed tones. It feels a little uncertain, as if the group are speculating the next chapter in their artistic output.

A laid-back album Altogether may be, it still leaves a sense of anticipation as to where the group will head next.

For such a madcap, experimental pop act, this is a reasonably cogent collection of songs, and one that serves as a decent follow up to their last 'proper' LP, 'Paralytic Stalks'.

An exciting glimpse at where they’re heading next, The Districts are here for keeps and we’re glad.

‘Life In Your Glass World’ never shies away from its obvious love for more mainstream-friendly rock, more often than not hitting the mark. The band thrive in their more overt indie moments but lose traction on the likes of the more pedestrian ‘Thin Air’ or the experimental electronics of ‘Fight Beat’.

This is not their most groundbreaking work, but it's very easy to enjoy a band who themselves enjoy what they're creating.

On the whole Tiña have managed to create a debut record that quietly paves the way for modern psychedelic pop, and not a loud shirt in sight.

The eight-track collection finds its voice through an ever more personal lens, one that dials down the familiar ignitable fare in favour of intricate ambient spread. In doing so, variation on past cues and themes are offered, sonically pared down yet expansive in concept – an effort that adds new facets and angles to Lykke Li’s art.

While it does quickly blend into one long - and at 24 tracks, it is long - medley - he’s created a heady, vibey, dare we say it - groovy - mood.

Although the British summer is a mixed bag of rain and more rain, ‘Alchemy’ could convince anyone there’s sun outside.

There’s little in the way of new ground broken here, but it's consistent nonetheless.

Much like Nirvana's 'Incesticide' or Smashing Pumpkins 'Pisces Iscariot', this is an excellent record in its own right, and an essential addition to any collection for both ardent Frankophiles as well as those just discovering him.

The album was entirely performed, engineered and produced by Noel Heroux; perhaps the input of a full band and a producer would have brought these songs to life and produced a rather more coherent and fully formed debut.

This is an album of climaxes and cathartic streams of consciousness, but an album listenable from start to finish.

Doubling as perhaps his most creative and experimental sound so far – swapping the more organic instrumentation of previous records for warm, electronic soundscapes - it stands an album which feels distinctly profound in both its lyrics and musicianship.

It is among The Dodos’ best work--Carrier is a fitting eulogy.

It’s all hips, handclaps and riffs, lots and lots of riffs. It isn’t perfect, but you’d be hard pressed to find a record as fun as Devour You.

[The album is] a reminder of musically, just what a great band the Flips themselves actually are.

You’ll come across both seemingly self-explanatory clues and more esoteric ones, which taunt you with their mysteries, and you will lose sense of time and reality as you wade through the debris. This album will absolutely floor you if given the chance.

Save for a couple of filler tracks--especially the trashy, throwaway 'Staying Home'--I Hate Music is an earnestly constructed album of melodic alt-rock.

Fantastically glossy and mystical.

It might take more than one or two listens to really appreciate it, but it's worth your time.

Baths’ second album is dark and distressing but ultimately compelling.

There will be those who will listen to Indians and not get swept along with their world-weary tidings but for those who feel the same or just want to escape, this LP is perfection.

The record is not quite so relentless that it needs a pause, and at points feels as if it should move up a pace, decibel or pitch instead of the opposite way.

The decision for Brown and collaborator Jonah Swiller to finally make a record together in the same room, after two remotely composed past releases, has largely paid dividends.

It's easy to see from this record just why Hugo Manuel is in such demand and his debut, as Chad Valley will provide a significant springboard to ever more exciting climbs.

‘How To Let Go’ is an album of two halves, where at times she seamlessly slides back into the laid-back persona of old.

While ‘What’s Your Pleasure’ doesn’t quite hit the heady heights of classic disco its soft-focus imagery might suggest, it’s both a more exciting - and natural - fit for the singer than we’ve heard in some time.

It’s eerie, it’s weird, and maybe a tad too long (it could still perhaps work as a three-minute interlude or similar) but regardless, it still somehow manages to feel like Pigs x7 while offering a welcome change. By its last quarter, ‘Land of Sleeper’ feels like it’s said all it can.

‘Into The Blue’ comes across like the pair swapping mixtapes; a little ‘60s psych here, some ‘70s soul there, with a smidge of ‘80s R&B between. ... In lesser hands, this may have presented a mish-mash of confused homage, but here, it’s just a pleasant, nostalgic listen.

As stirring as some of the material is, there are a number of tracks where the weighty lyrical themes are coupled with languid and ponderous melodies which drag the pace right down to a deathly crawl.

This is an irresistibly likeable album, very much in the mould of its creator’s affable, mellow personality.

A promising album that should make the next journey with them all the more exciting.

Backed up by powerful guitars and soaring vocals, their brand of intense but atmospheric rock feels rejuvenating - and is perhaps even a tonic.

The music is complex, but not in a Phillip Glass orchestral kind of way.

In a similar context many other bands might have run dry by now. Not Calexico though, and 'Algiers' serves as a fitting reminder why they haven't.

Maps & Atlases have carved for themselves a neat little niche in the indie rock world. And we should be grateful for that, rather than having another generic album, and be interested to see where the band goes next.

There’s palpable relief when ‘Sugar’ gets proceedings underway and the thinking is all; 'Yes, Shout Out Louds, yes, this is how you start a record'--no dilly, precious little dally, instead wham-bam-slam straight into this behemoth of a pop tune.

If you are a pre-existing fan then you will find much to enjoy here, but more importantly if you are a sceptic who thinks pop punk is a baser pleasure reserved exclusively for the under 16s, you could do a lot worse than check this album out.

Silver Wilkinson is an album that combines all the facets of Bibio’s character that have made him such an interesting and, at times, frustrating musician.

The weight of the album and the somber nature of its subjects can nearly get too much at times. Yet it’s the lightness and dexterity in Nadine’s voice and songwriting that means she has created an album of stories that will warm you and keep you company.

It all sounds Trullie effortless and it wouldn't be surprising if she reached the same heights as her contemporaries with just as much ease.

‘Actually…’ delivers a fairground of gleeful unpredictability populated by usual Deerhoof tropes: elliptical song titles, a whole gamut of biblical references, and disjointed rhythms that prance majestically between tempos and motifs.

This is no blistering return, but a pleasant one nonetheless. Fuzzy and frustrated, much like its title, the tension throughout ‘Ongoing Dispute’ frequently threatens to bubble over into fury, but is always brought back.

Muchacho is a record which can soothe even the darkest nights and moods.

By the time we reach ‘Swept To The Sky’, his transformation from indie-pop upstart to artistic troubadour is complete.

The result is one of this year's most welcome collaborations. Definitely worth the ten-year wait.

On their sixth LP, unpredictable Californians Foxygen are less up for a bop than an attempt at settling some scores.

Overall, and perhaps importantly, it mostly sounds like something to sing along to, rather than the soundtrack to your next existential crisis.

A welcome return.

Sensitive to a whole host of influences old and new, ‘Everyday Nothing’ is a confident, cohesive and finely-honed debut.

It’s possibly not to everyone’s taste--no doubt fans of the definiteness of ‘Pleasure’ may turn on this one--but it’s more confident and upfront, less immersed in background noise.

What ‘Great Spans…’ may lack in coherence, it makes up for with occasional moments of sheer beauty.

Between the excitement of the new on ‘Glasgow Eyes’ and the presence of the more classic, indie rock side of the band on tracks like ‘The Eagles and The Beatles’, the band appear to have tapped into a rich new vein of songwriting form. On this evidence, here’s to the next forty.

This album is not just a holiday destination but a permanent home for anyone who wants to see what the band has to offer next.

Miami is a record that is hard to get a handle on at times, but it is all the more resonant for it when you eventually fall under its spell.

‘Trauma Factory’ is overlong and occasionally indulgent, but if those are the terms under which Joe is operating, then this daring, forward-thinking genre piece is worth the price of admission.

This is a wonderfully wistful album which shows a band who have grown beyond the ideas which earlier defined them to produce a sound and vision that works perfectly.

Our House on the Hill' is at least a welcome addition to their lexicon; its 50s-tinged 'woah-oh' backing vocals and neo-retro chord changes just wistful enough.

Whilst the album as a whole doesn't necessarily tread new ground, and admittedly is a little rough around the edges, it's a promising debut, and you can expect to hear more from Don Broco in the future.

Much like a pungent stilton, this is difficult prospect to recommend or advise against, especially if this is your first experience of Xiu Xiu. Dip your toe in the water, though, and there are bits to love.

6 Feet Beneath The Moon broods, spits confidence and sits, thinks just as much.

There’s a warm domesticity to many of these tracks that’s smaller and softer than the apocalyptic balladry that first made his name; these are vignettes plucked from a Richard Curtis movie - romantic and relatable, with all the humorous foibles left in.

There’s a real cleverness about the contrast between these very modern themes and their throwback sound, a sparklier take on garage-flecked indie that proves wildly catchy.

If you like a theatrical sound with a dose of anarchy, quirk and unpredictability, this record comes highly recommended.

It's rich, vivid, and occasionally odd enough to give you a start.

Idiots is the wonderful sound of The Electric Soft Parade belatedly coming of age.

A collection that is perfectly pitched between old and new with nothing too challenging. It hangs together very well for both a casual listen or as a soundtrack to a night out.

Thrifty, perhaps--hey, these are austere times!--but Errors' evocation of eighties pop, tricked out with post-rock structures, is fresh and exciting.

The Orielles succeed in painting a vivid world of colour and flavour to get lost in.

After a decade of dividing between his priorities, this is Dallas finally taking the step out on his own. And it suits him extremely well.

As ever, Amidon mediates between the folk music of his ancestry and the popular music of his day, finding a unique modernity in his marrying of past and present.

In a world of diminishing attention spans, he keeps it moving - most tracks don’t linger longer than 3 minutes, giving the whole thing an inherently vital quality, a record you can let wash over you just as well as getting the party lit.

‘PREY//IV’ does not shy away from Alice’s story; instead, its imagery is violent and visceral, with portraits of isolation (‘PINNED BENEATH LIMBS’) and self harm (‘BABY TEETH’) riddled throughout an album defined by a sort of constant itchiness, a wish to rid itself of trauma by occupying it so fully.

An album that covers this much ground could quickly feel disjointed, yet through painting with broad brush strokes, Mall Grab has cohesively summarised what it is that makes him tick.

‘Contender’ is a marked step forwards from one of Britain’s more endearingly idiosyncratic indie rock outfits.

If you are prepared to enter into the listening experience with open ears and an open mind then you will be rewarded with an album of remarkable completeness that feels like a genuine coming of age for two musicians who are growing a little older with a significant degree of grace.

By and large though they still end up falling on the sword of 'Fever''s brilliance.

While ’40 oz. to Fresno’ is certainly a little less orthodox than we’ve come to expect, it doesn’t matter all that much: their rough-around-the-edges punk still strikes the right chords.

'Cavalcade' is the sound of a band looking to broaden their horizons, but building from a sound already so idiosyncratic and unpredictable, they end up in some head-scratching corners. It's still thrillingly entertaining nonetheless.

Although the ten tracks are by no means light of memorable moments, it's the thrilling range of diverse songs that flow effortlessly that makes Antipodes a debut album to take note of.

Sans-visual accompaniment the album can feel meandering and unfocused. Fortunately, the experimental production and dark atmosphere are compelling in their own right, and ‘Anima’ is ultimately a trip down the rabbit hole worth taking.

This record is completely free of direction changes but at least they are consistent.

George Ezra knows his strengths, he knows his audience, and he’s sticking to it come hell or high water. The result is still yet another charming record that’s hard not to love.

It would be a hard heart indeed not to fall for music as lovely as this.

Sonically, it’s extremely impressive, and almost every song sounds massive. The cavernous sound suits the intensity of the band’s delivery.

The richness of its sounds is what makes ‘Strange Dance’ a warmly familiar, if not entirely compelling listen.

There’s just enough on ‘Everything…’ to ingratiate fans both new and old.

Combined with the hypnotic instrumentation that blankets the record, it's easy to immerse yourself and get lost in its alluring character.

‘As I Try Not to Fall Apart’ is a subtle evolution for White Lies - progress, after a while spent spinning their wheels.

Mason's voice is lazier and more monotone than it ever was on the debut (a good thing) but the infectious nuances and off-beat concepts in the music are still not quite at their 2005 levels.

Dizzee remains in touch with the youthful verve of earlier efforts with ‘E3 AF’, a freshness that, for the most part, is carried throughout.

Consistent it may not be, but during its finest moments Nobody Knows is unequivocal proof that Beal's artistry is more than capable of surpassing his legend.

For all its playful charm, CYRK is deliciously dark: it revels in its ability to marry calmness with the uncomfortable.

It’s easy to see why Sam Fender took the outfit out on his recent UK arena jaunt, possessed as they are with heartfelt songs based in place and time, with a few fist-to-the-chest moments.

It’s hard not to commend Nova Girls for the gripping collision of influences that make up their debut, and their commitment to doing it so forcefully.