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).

Put it all together, and listening to Savoy Motel’s debut in its entirety can leave you struggling, wondering if you’ve accidentally left the album on loop and yearning for something--anything9--that doesn’t begin with a bassline boogie.

A rare album without a single Achilles heel, The Magic Gang have created a debut that’ll be remembered as a milestone moment in years to come.

Though the writing is clever and at times funny, the whininess and constant soul-searching shuts the audience out, and anyone deciding to stay is bludgeoned again and again with his relentless wet sentimentality.

As usual, it features some reliably masterful beat work and production, but, at the same time, falls somewhat short in becoming the grand defining statement that its creator was intending it to be.

All in all, the blanketing lime-lit production, the in-your-face ’60s nostalgia, the five-sugars-in-the-tea gooiness of it all may be too cloying for some, but Miles Kane has been so upfront about these musical influences, and for so long, that one can only admire him for so faithfully embodying them.

Their fourth album, Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action is a thumping beast full of deliberate, sudden movements and big melodies.

Poignant, refined and still packed with relatable energy, the duo feel even more confident second time around.

‘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.

R. Cole Furlow has managed to piece together a jigsaw of DIY recording methods, thrashy punk, grungy distorted noise and glowing synths to brilliant effect.

Grown up, spotlessly polished and now with full-fledged circuitry, these pirates are machines now, making Teleman’s debut nothing short of electric.

Only rarely can the listener form more than an ephemeral bond. ’Keep It Tight’ and ‘Friend Like That’ have an all-for-one gang mentality akin to chats with old friends. Unfortunately, it otherwise feels like watching strangers from across a dance floor.

What stops the record being preposterous, what keeps it charming and fun throughout, what makes it okay for ‘Mid Century Modern Nightmare’ to rhyme “bourgeoisie” with “cups of tea” is the presence of Gruff.

A complete joy.

[Tracer] is more expansive and impressive than their previous output.

As a first collection of work from the band this is a stunning release, bursting with life and creativity and fully deserving of the attention and praise that is bound to come its way.

Uncle, Duke and The Chief is a chirpy affair that’s very much in the vein we’ve come to expect, even when there’s a sadness permeating the lyrics.

Billie Joe and Norah’s frolic into the Everlys’ back-catalogue makes a rewarding listen and serves its purpose mighty well: to retell an old American classic that deserves re-telling.

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.

It's an immersive album, without ever fading away from your immediate attention

Not only ambitious, Blood & Chemistry is also invigorating.

Rented World might not be quite the landmark that it’s predecessor was-- it’s unlikely to be a fixture of too many album of the year lists outside of the punk scene--but regardless of the accolades it may or may not win, it is evidence of a band who know exactly what they want to do, and have little trouble in achieving it.

Drop your expectations of freak pop from another dimension, and there’s plenty to like.

Sunny Hills is at its best when it keeps things simple, with the taut ‘Dreamer’ the clear standout; perhaps next time, All We Are won’t throw quite so many ideas at the wall, because few of them stick here.

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.

While the album ends with an echoed sigh of melancholic relief: “Finally I’m on my own”. It’s indicative of the confidence that runs through the band’s long-awaited debut, one that paints ‘Teething’ as both the party and the comedown.

Jassbusters is the album of a musician who has been around the block a bit, knows what he wants and more importantly how to get it.

While ‘Take The Sadness…’ may not be a bolshy, career-defining move, it is a shimmering, reflective gem, hoping to offer a little relief from the darkness.

It's punk rock by the numbers.

On paper, Junto (Spanish for ‘together’) should make for an eclectic, flag-waving affair--but sadly many of its disparate parts blissfully miss the mark.

With Love is a flawed collection that is on a par with Zomby’s previous work but one that is minted in the producer’s unique persona.

Unexplored avenues, Nutriblended genre combinations, and left-field pop gold have always been Santigold’s bag, and though the price tag here may be 99¢, she’s never sounded freer.

In doubling down on her niche - that is, artsy Scandi-indie-pop - ’I’M DOING IT AGAIN BABY!’ is girl in red at her most realised.

Go Fly A Kite is a likeable album, but it sounds like Jet at its worst times and like an American alt-rock band past their sell by date at its best.

Tell Me If You Like To possesses the same breakneck speed spirit of their first steps. But it’s also a full-bodied beast, the sound of a band racing to the finish line to accept their prize.

The irony is that perhaps in trying to grow old a little too gracefully Jimmy Eat World have lost some of the youthful exuberance that so endeared them to us in those heady days around the turn of the millennia.

As ever, there's a sonic depth here that most artists could only dream of attaining, he works melodic light and shade beautifully; perhaps never more so than on 'Hangtown', which is a veritable swoonfest.

There’s a pop sensibility never far from Maya and her collaborators (co-produced by Okkervil River’s Benjamin Lazar Davis, with credits too for bandmate Will Graefe, and fellow folky soul Christian Lee Hutson) that gives the record a well-masked determined nature, simultaneously familiar and exciting.

It doesn’t always quite hit those high notes, but the pair have set out to create a sometimes elusive feeling of connection. Its sheer scope alone means there’s likely to be something here that will undoubtedly resonate.

While their first outing had as much subtlety as a whack around the face, this time they’ve born a more considered--but sinister--creature.

There aren’t quite enough hooks to unite some of the more exciting experimentalism, but when SHIRT does throw them it’s not certain that they land.

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

A delightfully fun record.

While their move away from the genre isn’t quite absolute, this album proves that they possess enough confidence and ability to do just about whatever they want.

Essentially, what each track on At Hope’s Ravine has in common, is the blistering intensity with which it’s delivered, culminating in the ever-intensifying title track and the cathartic sonic explosion with which it bows out. A staggering debut album.

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.

There’s a further sense of spiriting when harps show up on the tracks ‘Limbs’ and ‘Take Him In’, and ultimately this album succeeds as an ominous exercise in atmosphere.

At best, it's eccentricity gone wild--there's no shortage of weird noises creeping in throughout--and at worst, just confusing.

Melancholic and joyful, it's both soft and harsh, but more impressive than any contradiction is the gorgeous use of timbre that takes over from the word go. A wonderfully simple, elegantly performed album that puts the importance of texture into perspective.

This is clearly an album of personal and musical growth for Lykke Li--it’ll be interesting to see where she goes next.

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

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.

With a good spread of melodies and hooks throughout, even if ideas do fly about like rice paper, it’s a strong development of a record.

The overbearing problem with Isaac Gracie is just how Isaac Gracie-centric it is.

The result sees Plague Vendor’s ferocious punk swirl around explosions of synth and thunderous electronic drums, a combination that ultimately propels their ever-present homage to classic sounds into the present day.

Sure, if you’re after something revolutionary, this one’s not for you; but ‘ONE MORE TIME…’ instead succeeds in its mission to reinvigorate the trio’s alchemy, and gives the band a much-needed chance to reflect and celebrate for at least one more time.

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

Between sombre tones and esctasy highs, and with tracks like 'Folk Hero Shtick' and 'Reagan's Skeleton', this will leave you with a grin on your face and a confidence music will keep going.

Although Wasser has perhaps sounded better in the past and too many of the songs stretch past their welcome, The Classic is a welcome addition to Joan As Police Woman's repertoire and a recommended addition to any album collection due to its impressive ability to surprise and innovate as it moves 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.

A very impressive debut. The best thing about it is you get the sense he has only just started.

Save for a few tweaks, she doesn’t go to great lengths to expand upon the musical formula that’s served her to date.

Afraid Of Heights is a far stronger and much more accomplished effort, sounding more like an apposite album than any of Wavves' back catalogue.

It’s a mostly successful and far more mature record; it just has to be seen as a more grown-up Anthems for Doomed Youth rather than the anthems from doomed youth that they previously brought.

It’s woozy, dreamlike bliss and Mauro Remmidi owns it well.

The Districts end up finding an in-between, where emotional songwriting becomes the selling point, without being overdone.

For all its unwieldy eccentricity, Good Sad Happy Bad is still fascinating.

Unfortunately, these [familiar touches] are huddled together rather than woven throughout the album, breaking the illusion of a perpetual contrast. When Solide Mirage eventually hits its mark though, it’s impossible not buy into Marry’s idea of a changeable album that dreams of unity and addressing frustrations through as many channels as possible.

‘A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2’ is a sweet paean to music’s mood-boosting properties, as well as it capacity to effect meaningful change.

They have created another cohesive body of work that’s unhurried, considered and produces all the classic components of a timeless record that embodies the very moment.

Ultimately though, there are too many times here where these tracks sound too contrived and calculated, a false approximation in place of the real thing.

It may lack slightly in ambition but in terms of fulfilling Plantman's ideology to make gimmick free, classically-tinged emotive songs it does just fine.

It’s a very special record that offers more with every listen.

At times, you yearn for a little more grit among all the blissed-out euphoria, but ultimately the hooks are big enough to sink in and take hold.

An intelligent, stylish pop record.

At the heart of ‘At the Hotspot’, though, is a reminder that for all of their eccentricities, Warmduscher remain a tight garage-rock outfit - just one that isn’t afraid to wander down some stylistic rabbit holes.

In close proximity of each other, ‘Call It What You Want’, ‘Perfect’ and ‘Onwards And Upwards’ are a little too timid, each simply brushing against each other with no discernible difference. These are only minor concerns when everything else is as captivating as they are.

There's an unabashed sweet sincerity to Dent May’s music that makes Warm Blanket a joy to listen to.

Packed with powerful guitars and guttural vocals, the quartet may be over thirty years into their career, but they still know how to pack a devastating punch; with or without their original line-up.

It’s bruised and brilliant, idiosyncratic and anthemic, sloppy and heartfelt. It’s an album only Modest Mouse could make.

A surgical dissection of a full decade of influence, Merchandise pay homage to their upbringing without ever breaking eye contact with the sprawling future set ahead of them.

A record which clearly finds contentment in its sonic solitude.

Stepping away from her bandmates, LoveLaws is an even more personal exploration of TT’s affective talents.

Sure, with ‘This Is Really Going To Hurt’, Flyte have successfully echoed the sounds of the past, but it’s all about as paper-thin as a yellow-hued Instagram filter.

The trio deliver at once their heaviest, catchiest, most decipherable and least predictable album.

Wild Nights as a whole feels like a step forward for Pins; they’ve played to their strengths in genuinely self-assured fashion.

‘Light Years Out’ is an ill-advised journey into electro-funk territory but overall, ‘Names of North End Women’ is an interesting work that shows Ranaldo has retained all his youthful capacity for innovation and experimentation.

Filtered through a dispersing wall of glistening synths and trippy haze, Ester is a sonically rich debut.

It doesn’t quite match the intensity and impact of his debut.

Without any real substance to the lyrics, these soft, earnest, mild guitar songs come across like their author has grossly overestimated their depth. The album as a whole sounds like fourteen-year-old boyfriend music.

The songs here mostly lack the sonic power and impact of those on its predecessor, but they do accomplish the not inconsiderable task of making Sean’s angular guitars sit alongside Pascal Stevenson’s synths congruously on tracks like ‘Ego’ and ‘Keep Out’. Post-punk bands of various eras have transitioned to new wave over the course of three or four albums, but Moaning have done that with just two.

There’s a decidedly different tone to proceedings. World Peace is None of Your Business feels infinitely more concise, and musically more defined.

The lack of time taken for ii to form itself--no weeks off to go back and reconsider minor changes, no reigning in the level of experimentation--gives the album the feel of a jam, but without falling into an undefinable mess.

They cast a loving spell over the listener with their optimistic, almost carefree attitude, providing a cosmic, upbeat antidote to chaotic times.

Much of his recent work remains underrated, but by ‘Monuments…’, he was beginning to sound a little short on ideas; happily, the simplicity of Ogilala seems as if it’s rejuvenated him.

Whilst this beast will satisfy the ravenous converted, skeptics are set to remain agnostic.

An enigma made by a puzzle, ESTOILE NAIANT is as compelling and as unusual as the musician who refuses to tell you his name or show you his face.

Ultimately there are no tracks that really stand out any more than the crowd, which is what bars this record from higher marks; but then, there are no bad tracks either, and the whole package is very listenable.