Simon Tyers

While there’s still scuzzy, shouty songs about beans and insects, the absurdist duo’s third album adds some subtle depth.

The surgical scrub-clad Liverpudlians’ reputation is for sounding like nobody else but always sounding the same. On this seventh album they’ve matured a little.

After years of building a devoted live following, the Brighton-via-Cornwall trio bring their mix of loop pedal complexity and anthemic dynamics to album length.

The twenty-something strong female choir prove to have more than novelty on their side – in fact paring down the weight of ideas is sometimes the problem.

The third album from Cardiff’s most ferocious finds Andy Falkous on familiar barbed form, taking against popular culture with loud distortion as his weapon.

27 years after their last album Kevin Rowland gets the gang back together for another self-examining trip round his soulful, damaged psyche.

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.