The debut album from London indiepop’s latest fuzzy young tykes runs on highly-strung energy and adolescent anxieties.

Cutting up samples and building layers of synths and effects, Clock Opera attempt to rework post-Coldplay/Radiohead stadium build and release dynamics, with mixed results.

Four folky close-harmony not-actual-sisters from Sunderland, produced by half of Field Music, find new ways of telling old stories of love and loss.

The strident folk of the Anglo-Swedish outfit’s debut is put aside in favour of synthetic layers and ornate, slow burning, building tracks.

Boston trio formed from one man’s bedroom work joins the by-no-means-undersubscribed genre of stadium-ready synthpop, but with subtler touches.

Third release from the London duo sees them expand their shadowy synth-led side, evoking some multi-gender duo contemporaries along the way.

Unable to bear loud guitars after suffering a head injury, the English suburban chronicler took to the piano and produced a set of songs about love and loss. Simon Tyers reviews.

The debut album from the Brooklyn-via-Washington trio takes subtle leads from early rock’n'roll and the hazily languor of early 90s female fronted dreampop.

Bedroom mad sonic scientist Rob Jones mashes up 50s doo-wop, 70s pop melody, 80s ambient and 90s hip-hop sampling. It’s somehow not a complete mess, writes Simon Tyers.

The Glaswegians return to the dark side for their third album proper, Grimm fairytales and songs about dead models laced with electronics and covert threat.

Produced by Ross Robinson, the ‘fight-pop’ positive hardcore screwballs rein in some of their jagged edge excesses and, up to a point, become more approachable.