On album three, the London trio found themselves in quite the predicament. Regurgitating the sparse electro-minimalism of previous effort ‘Coexist’ was a no-go, and leaning too heavily towards Jamie xx’s brand of melodic dance music would have proved uninspiring. ‘I See You’, luckily, falls somewhere down the middle, with club-ready bangers (‘Dangerous’) rubbing shoulders with moody electro-pop (‘Replica’), in what transpires to be their most diverse and intriguing record to date. (Thomas Smith)
With ‘Visions Of A Life’ Wolf Alice are removing any doubt about their status in the UK music scene. Best band in Britain? 100 per cent. (Rhian Daly)
Having spent much of the last few years working on other people’s music (see Kanye West’s ‘Saint Pablo’, Drake’s ‘Too Much’, Jessie Ware’s ‘Valentine’), February finally saw the release of London singer-songwriter Sampha’s debut album. Written about the loss of his mother to cancer, ‘Process’ is both devastatingly honest and beautiful. Highlights include electro-soul romp ‘Under’, glitchy blues lament ‘Reverse Fault’ and stripped-back piano ballad ‘No One Knows Me’ Like The Piano’ (the saddest of the lot). (Alex Flood)
Alongside stone-cold tirades like ‘Cold’ and ‘Big For Your Boots’, South London’s grime don set out reflective tracks – sampling Nao on ‘Velvet’, collaborating with Kehlani on ‘Cigarettes & Cush’, and going gospel on ‘Blinded By Your Grace’. That killer combination pushed the album to Number One on the UK Album Chart and cemented its place as one of his scene’s soon-to-be-cornerstones. (LB)
Debut album ‘Everybody Works’ was how the 22-year-old Californian followed a collection of demos (‘Turn Into’) and crucial support slots with Mitski and Japanese Breakfast. Striking guitar solos (‘1 Billion Dogs’); DIIV-style melodies (‘Remain’); aching romance (‘Baybee’) – this is indie-pop at its dreamy finest. (LB)
From a cynical point of view, it’s suspiciously convenient to see hip-hop’s most talked-about soap opera played out exclusively on a streaming platform that Jay Z himself owns. Every ‘OMG!’ talking point puts more money in his pocket. Are his fans being played? But the fact remains: as a direct, firework-filled admission of past mistakes, ‘4:44’ couldn’t be more watertight. (Jamie Milton)
Previously seen as a sideman to LA’s more famous luminaries (Kendrick Lamar, Flying Lotus, Kamasi Washington), Thundercat’s latest sees him step into the limelight at last. A wild, cosmic record stuffed with impressive cameos, ‘Drunk’ blends funk, soul, electronica, pop and hip-hop into one jivin’ West Coast dance party you’ll want an invite to. (AF)
‘DAMN.’ shows Lamar as spiritual but tormented, confused and ego-tripping all at the same time. Being Kendrick Lamar, you imagine, must be knackering. (LC)
New tricks have been added to the steadfast elements that make The National so good: clever turns of phrase, genius storytelling, Bryan Devendorf’s marching-band drums, delightful arrangements and piano and brass that work well together. (Hannah Jane Parkinson)
‘V’ will raise more eyebrows than smiles. Over the past 10 years, the Southend-formed quintet have engorged their doomy garage-rock with psychedelia, shoegaze and electro, and they seem to be toasting their recent support slot with Depeche Mode with this 10-song, hour-long strut through dry ice and – somewhat improbably – towards the arena. (LB)
The untouchable British folk star worked with new producer Blake Mills on her sixth album – a beautifully textured and varied exploration of womanhood, featuring some of her most complex guitar work and instrumentation to date.
The 24-year-old member of Odd Future and The Internet broke out on her own with this accomplished solo debut – mixing feather-light hook-up stories (‘Know’) with displays of bubbling bravado (‘Nothin to Somethin’) and what Syd is calling the “baby-making anthem of 2017” – a bass-heavy groove called ‘Body’. (Larry Bartleet)
Right from fiery opener ‘Crabs In A Bucket’, Staples’ propulsive, hypnotic flow has never sounded stronger. His lyrics, meanwhile, are emotionally calibrated for 2017: antsy, alienated and occasionally overcome with nihilistic despair at the state of the world. And his bleak lyrical brilliance is perfectly matched by ‘Big Fish Theory’’s experimental production. He’s always had a taste for harsh electronic funk, and he embraces that creative urge more eagerly than ever. There’s slo-mo techno, dystopian G-funk, field recordings, growling industrialism; abstract, icy grooves more indebted to Berlin than Atlanta. (Joe Madden)
James Mercer’s fifth album under The Shins guise – their first in half a decade – isn’t quite a snapshot of the tumultuous times, but instead offers timeless songs filled with joy, hope and most importantly, love. With intimate moments like the folk-ballad ‘Mildenhall’, which gives an insight into Mercer’s early forays with falling in love music through to the delightful indie-pop ‘Cherry Hearts’ – there’s no shortage of touching moments. (TS)
Birthed in Perth, Methyl Ethel superglued shards of shattered disco ball into their eclectic and sprawling debut record. ‘Drink Wine’ fidgets back-and-forth, reflecting nostalgia while also looking forward, and ‘Ubu’ is blindingly uplifting, with sharp, sinister edges. A triumph. (CD)
The pop-provocateur has made it clear that this isn’t really an album (it’s mixtape, thank you very much). But the strength of Charli’s material – like the impending pre-drinks staple ‘3AM (Pull Up) and ‘Baby Girl’, packed with unashamedly 90s pop nostalgia – is just as strong, and fun, a collective of songs as anything she’s ever done. (TS)
Canada’s sexy rap king can’t stop releasing music at the moment. Less than a year since ‘Views’ dropped comes ‘More Life’ – a 22-track ‘playlist’ created “to bridge the gap between [any] major releases”. It’s almost impossible to pigeonhole the smorgasbord of ideas and sounds Drake has come up with here, so instead just read this long list of supremely talented guest stars and feel yourself overcome with excitement: Kanye West, Skepta, Giggs, Sampha, Jorja Smith, Travis Scott, 2 Chainz, Young Thug. (AF)
A 13 year wait, 12 tracks, three drummers, all recorded in one take. What it all adds up to is one of the most intense listens of the year. The daddies of electro-rock once again make the machines feel oh so human. (AT)
Fearless and fun in equal measure, ‘RTJ3’ makes for the ideal middle finger to the apocalyptic nightmare we find ourselves in. Punk, pleasure, politics and personality collide as Killer Mike and El-P challenge every other name in hip-hop to deliver the album that 2017 so desperately needs, even if we don’t deserve it. (Andrew Trendell)
Joshua Tillman’s third album under the Father John Misty name is a sprawling masterpiece of R&B, country, pop and soul. Crooning his way through 75 minutes of contemplative ballads, he fuses catchy and ear-pleasing melodies with scathing political commentary in his trademark sarcastic style. ‘Pure Comedy’ might be Tillman’s most indulgent record to date, but it’s also certainly his best. (AF)
In size and sound, ‘Godfather’ is gigantic. The 17-track epic boasts quite the cast, such as JME, Lethal Bizzle, Devlin as well as a long overdue team up with Skepta. The man all-but invented grime, and on his final album, his legacy as one of the UK’s greatest rap artists is secured. (Cecilia Dinwoodie)
The record wears its influences proudly. ‘Californian Light’ is a throwback of falsetto vocals and groovy guitars, ‘Cameo’ slithers with liquid-smooth melodies, while ’Too Old For My Tears’, a funky dancefloor filler, showcases a group talented beyond their years. ‘Universal High’ is the reinvention we never knew we needed. (TS)
For those who struggle to switch off, the South Londoner’s debut is your meditative state. It’s a lazy day lay low hip-hop show-down that eclectically clasps gospel soul with jazz guitar. With ‘90s infused beats that nodding to the likes of A Tribe Called Quest, Carner makes it his own on this touching and personal odyssey. (CD)
When your last album boasts a euphoric banger in the shape of ‘Seasons (Waiting On You)’, what do you do next? Well you just write 11 of them, obviously. Though the music rarely strays from the tried and tested driving electro-pop formula, it’s frontman Samuel T Herring’s devastatingly vivid lyrics that prove to be the real gem in an album that shimmers with each beautiful line. (TS)
Another gift from fame’s fickle filly, a clutch of tales about power, lust and spectacle. (Emily Mackay)
A long time coming, but The Big Moon’s cosmic debut album ‘Love In The 4th Dimension’ comes good on the potential showcased over the last two years. ‘Formidable’ is as epic as any festival headliner’s set closer, but the wicked humour on ‘Cupid’ and ‘Silent Movie Susie’ is where the girls really turn on the charm. (CW)
The bequiffed high priest of desert rock has always imbued his full-throttle stoner sound with a certain amount of hip-shaking sass, but on ‘Villains’, he truly lets his dancing shoes take the floor. (LC)
Pop-noir tinged by desert rock. Imagine Lana Del Rey and Josh Homme charging feverishly into the sunset. An all-star line-up of Alex Turner and James Ford lent a hand, but it’s Savior’s idiosyncratic, dark charisma that ranks this as one of the best debuts of 2017. (AT)
It’s a rudely excellent album, introspective without ever being indulgent, OTT in all the right ways, honest and brave, full of brilliant songs with lyrics to chew over for months.
This isn’t a hoary dad-rock indulgence, but a totally 2017 rock record with its sights set high. (LC)
He can be the good-time, goofy guy with a reputation that precedes him, or he can be an earnest songwriter with serious bite. ‘This Old Dog’ sees him conquering this more mature side, without even a shade of boring. (JM)
Catharsis is never usually this joyous, but sometimes smiling through the pain works better than crying. (LC)
Ultimately it’s the album’s sense of humanity, not its innate clever-cleverness, that elevates it to something special. (Barry Nicolson)
‘Ctrl’’s strength is how it doesn’t strive to be one thing over the other. It effortlessly winds between narratives and genres like it’s child’s play. This isn’t a star in the making, it’s a fully-fledged talent who’s practically showing off. (JM)
A career-high from the alt-rock troubadour. After delivering 16 albums in 17 years, he remains unwearied and consistent – turning loss and heartache into a searing, opulent, and poetic blast of cathartic, classic Americana. (AT)
Some may be unconvinced by the ambitious leap Fleet Foxes have made on album three, but there’s really no doubting the first-rate intelligence behind this uncompromising and ever-changing piece of work. (LB)
His vocals – guttural, electric and still the star of the show – seep from the cracks of songs sketched from jazz, punk, hip-hop, bossa nova and the ambient drift favoured by Dean Blunt and Frank Ocean. (Ben Homewood)
A single verse can find J scrolling through the louche grind of Jamaican dancehall, the autotuned bounce of Ghanian hiplife, the aggy energy of London grime and the zoned-out drawl of Atlanta rap. It’s a dizzying, dazzling trick. (Joe Madden)
‘For Crying Out Loud’ is chockablock with massive tunes that make an instant impact. Serge Pizzorno wrote the whole thing in just six weeks, in a bid to imbue the album with a sense of urgency. And it’s taken him to the songwriters’ Holy Grail: insistent new melodies that already sound weirdly familiar. (JB)
As a songwriter, Flowers has never been particularly guarded about himself – he’s neurotic, driven, sentimental and sometimes corny – but he bares more on ‘Wonderful Wonderful’ than ever before, and the result is the band’s best album since 2006’s ‘Sam’s Town’. It might get lonely at the top, but The Killers aren’t going anywhere just yet. (BN)
Nothing here equals 2007’s era-defining ‘All My Friends’. But even that’s accidentally definitive, because who could pin down this f**ked-up age? The band retains the uncanny power to encapsulate a place and time. This is a cautious return, not a triumphant one – and that proves LCD Soundsystem are very 2017. (JB)
The word ‘Bambino’ translates from Italian as ‘little boy’ – and over the utterly joyous and juvenile following 42-minutes, we get the sounds of a band not ready, or willing to grow up. That is a good thing, we should add. (TS)
is a reinventor rather than a recreator – his vision of ’80s pop-rock is warped through the prism of second-wave shoegaze. These songs revel in their spaciousness, like three- minute drivetime anthems from 1986 set free from their radio edits to muck around with 2017’s oddest noises for seven minutes at a time. Granduciel’s music is such a sumptuous wallow we don’t mind moving forward by the inch. (Mark Beaumont)
