The 30 best albums of 2017

From Lorde's unconventional pop to Rapsody's outstanding second album – here are our favourite releases from a busy year in music

After last year’s spate of surprise releases from the likes of Beyoncé, Rihanna, Radiohead and Kanye West, 2017 has been more about anticipation. From the build-up to Kendrick Lamar dropping DAMN. and the frenzy ahead of Taylor Swift’s long-awaited sixth album reputation, to a wealth of long-awaited debuts: this year artists took their time to recover from political and social upheaval, and gave us something to look forward to.

Here are our 30 favourite albums of 2017.

The Independent’s Album of the Year: Loyle Carner, Yesterday’s Gone

“Basically we’re bringing it back to basics.” Some may have forgotten Loyle Carner’s jewel of a debut record, given that it was released right at the beginning of the year. Rebel Kleff’s old-school hip-hop production – pioneered by the likes of Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA and Q-Tip from A Tribe Called Quest – sees the album chop and change, throwing in 40-second skits and snapshots from Carner’s life, not a moment wasted.

There are twangs of guitar, funk-driven bass lines, gospel choruses, poetry, a saxophone, the gospel chant on “The Isle of Arran” that recalls “California Dreamin’” – and at the top of it all, Carner’s swift flow that switches up from a languid, poetic narrative on “No Worries” and “Mean It In The Morning” to a spitfire on tracks like “OCD” and “Stars & Shards”.

Like his heroes – Mos Def, Nas, Common, The Pharcyde, Benjamin Zephaniah – Carner has an astonishing ability to evoke the world that surrounds him, and he also shares their capacity for storytelling. We get a perfect balance between the influences he draws on from the best of US hip hop and the power of his own, distinctly south London voice.

Carner wears his heart on his sleeve in everything that he does; there is not one moment on this record where he hides from his emotions. Family is at the heart of everything, from the charming conversation between him and his mother, where he allows her to call him a “shmoo”; the song “Florence”, where he imagines life with a baby sister; to the closing title track, which features recordings by his late, beloved step-father. Yesterday’s Gone is an outstanding debut by one of the UK’s finest young talents – an album you find yourself returning to again and again.

2. Lorde, Melodrama

“Unconventional pop that still bangs” was how we described Lorde’s follow-up to her acclaimed debut Pure Heroine. Working mostly in New York with producer Jack Antonoff (Bleachers, St Vincent, Taylor Swift), Lorde created an album that documents feelings of early adulthood, spanning desire, heartbreak, fear, certainty. She captures how it feels as a young person living in a huge city with millions of people, and to still feel lonely.

Her songwriting talent combined with Antonoff’s production means Melodrama sounds like nothing else released this year. You hear it most on opener “Green Light” (which producer Max Martin called “incorrect songwriting”) and the way she blurts out that intro with fury so tangible it makes you shiver, before throwing you head-first into the intoxicating chorus, revelling in its chaos. Non-rhymes and that key change, possibly one of the most talked-about in music history, are superb. And it continues throughout, there is no filler on this record, and each song stands out, quite exquisitely, on its own. Read the full review here.

3. Rapsody, Laila’s Wisdom

‘Laila’s Wisdom’ was nominated for Best Album at the Grammys

Rapsody is arguably one of the most underappreciated names in hip hop. The Roc Nation MC was one of the best features on Kendrick’s To Pimp A Butterfly (“Complexion”), and has since enlisted him for her second record – the first to be released on Roc; alongside a wealth of other brilliant guest appearances including Anderson .Paak, Busta Rhymes, Amber Navran and Terrace Martin. It’s an album that buzzes with life, and is impossible to pre-empt, with scope to become a classic.

Opening the title track on a sample from Aretha Franklin’s “(To Be) Young Gifted and Black”, she loops the church piano and regales the listener with her grandmother’s advice for life. Her flow is graceful and full of light; her skilful wordplay seemingly effortless. “You won’t need no toll booths, they’ll pay attention, Hov do,” she asserts, nodding to her label’s boss Jay Z. “Pay Up” is an outstanding, funk-driven riff off TLC’s “No Scrubs” or Destiny’s Child’s “Independent Woman”.

It’s an ambitious work: 14 tracks and with many passing the four-minute mark, but rare in that it took two years to complete, with the intention apparently to produce a work that was considered, ready and artful. Rapsody is a natural storyteller taking the listener along for the ride, and the way she tells those stories is so utterly visual; she paints a mural of her life as a black female artist in the 21st century and tackles subjects including police brutality, social media and life in the South.

4. Perfume Genius, No Shape

On No Shape Mike Hadreas shows the gentle, sacred love of a long-term relationship. Its sheer interpretability is what makes it so special, written by a restless artist during a number of different moods, the listener is able to take from it what they will.

His writing about long-term partner Alan Wyffels is raw and passionate yet at the same time endearingly normal. On “Alan” he wonders at the state of domestic bliss he finds himself in: “I’m here,” he sings. “How weird.”

5. SZA, Ctrl

The long-awaited album from an artist who has written for everyone from Nicki Minaj to Rihanna to Beyonce. Originally titled A, it was meant to conclude a trilogy of self-titled releases after S [2013] and Z [2014].

SZA’s voice is dreamy and fluid, navigating through themes of youth, identity and femininity. She doesn’t set out with any one statement, choosing instead to explore those ideas as she goes along, wondering aloud to herself and allowing the listener to hear those musings in the same vein as Frank Ocean. On “Doves In The Wind” you hear a classic Kendrick beat before SZA comes in and sings “I’m really tryna crack off that headboard” with sweetly brazen tones that recall Prince at his sexiest.

It’s the versatility that makes this album, with neo-soul and touches of indie rock alongside trap production that all settles around her voice and her words, her fearlessness to say actually, this is a s*** situation. On her debut, SZA proves that the dark times can be presented just as beautifully as the good.

6. Ghostpoet, Dark Days + Canapes

“The trip-hop rhythms may have been replaced by a more varied range of beats, from the languid funk groove of “Freakshow” to the de-syncing drum machines of “One More Sip”, but the mood and manner of Ghostpoet (Obaro Ejimiwe)’s fourth album is steeped in much the same themes and textures, hauled up to date and delivered in a nonchalant deadpan akin to Roots Manuva.”

The Independent‘s album critic Andy Gill awarded Ghostpoet’s record five stars, praising how a song like “Live>Leave” uses a “shifting backdrop of flanged guitar and sporadic piano chords over an itchy drum shuffle to carry its tableau of cramped, paranoiac millennial hedonism struggling with forces beyond its control”. Elsewhere he commented on how grim realities such as the drowning refugee in “Immigrant Boogie” work against the chipper mood on the likes of “Woe Is Meee”, where Ojimiwe claims, “I had a dance with the devil, I couldn’t keep his pace”.

“Assisted by producer/guitarist Leo Abrahams, whose work with artists such as Brian Eno, Karl Hyde and David Holmes equipped him perfectly to bathe Ojimiwe’s images in swaddling guitars and illuminating sonic details,” Gill concludes, “the result is a great album that bodes well for Ghostpoet’s future: as he says: ‘Eyes wide like a flatscreen/I haven’t reached my peak’.” Read the full review here.

7. Kendrick Lamar, DAMN.

Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA told The Independent in an interview earlier this month: “We’re lucky hip hop has a Kendrick.”

The release of K Dot’s fourth studio record marked another masterpiece for the rap canon; the master storyteller outstripping his closest competitors once again in a work that was impossible to second-guess.

Where on To Pimp A Butterfly Lamar took a blisteringly scathing look at the world around him, on DAMN. he ventures deeper into his own mind, apparently exhausted by the pressure from fans, peers and critics to be this constant pioneer, offering up what most fans would identify as a “traditional” rap album to date, of course with his own, post-modern detours.

Throughout the record he seems to tackle his own contradictory feelings about his status as an artist. When he screams “bitch, be humble” on “Humble”, you wonder if he’s talking to himself or to any foolish challengers. On “Pride” he quips, “I can’t fake humble just ‘cause your ass is insecure”, and on “Loyalty” his boasts are held up as weaknesses. Just as Untitled, Unmastered was a look at his creative process, DAMN. allows the listener to peer inside the mind of a true genius.

8. Syd, Fin

Swirling blue pools and sprawling, oceanic landscapes are brought to mind on Syd’s resplendent album Fin – named after the fish appendage rather than signifying the end of something.

She admitted that her solo work was “not that deep”, but it did mark a descent to the depths she wanted the internet to get into. Yet she embraces with ease the influence of Nineties R&B: TLC, Aaliyah, Erykah Badu, with her husky, languid drawl and half-whispers that slink around album highlights “Body” and “Know”.

In a genre dominated by heteronormative romantic cliches, it’s refreshing to hear her singing from a female, gay perspective, yet still with the half-rap braggadocio flow that makes her so compelling.

9. Jessie Ware, Glasshouse

Not one of these songs sound the same. Even on the best albums that’s a hard thing to avoid – often an artist wants to keep exploring a sound or thought but transfers too much across to other songs so they lose their uniqueness; Ware combats this by bringing on, at various times, the likes of Benny Blanco, Happy Perez, Cashmere Cat and Ed Sheeran.

What Ware’s songs on Glasshouse do have in common is that they are all quietly, beautifully poignant. Many of them were written after giving birth to her daughter, in those weary hours of early parenthood. On “Selfish Love” her voice over the Flamenco guitar is lustful, as fiery-yet-restrained as the dance itself, nodding to our current fascination with Latin American music without

Pino Palladino’s bass on the album’s final track “Sam”, co-written by Ware and Ed Sheeran, melts into that outro of Nico Segal’s trumpet and gentle cymbals. Sheeran often works best as a songwriter for women, managing not to trigger the audience’s cringe muscle with false sincerity that can appear in his own music, and instead simply guiding Ware to a sweetly disarming tribute to her husband and child.

10. Trampolene, Swansea to Hornsey

“It’s taken me a whole lifetime to write this album, so maybe you can spare me 51 minutes of yours to give it a listen. That’s not even an hour. It’s quicker than an enema, and more fun.”

It felt as though fans had been waiting an age for the release of this Welsh rock band’s debut album – as their frontman admits, it’s taken a lifetime to write. Led by Jack Jones, who has established himself not only as a resident poet for The Libertines, but also as the guitarist in Pete Doherty’s band the Puta Madres, Trampolene’s Swansea to Hornsey intersperses poetry with rock music in a way few artists dare to do today.

It’s the range of classic rock sounds on this record, made at Ray Davies’ Konk Studios in Hornsey, that’s particularly impressive, from a Buzzcocks snarl on the chorus of “Alcohol Kiss” to the Queens of the Stone Age nods for “Primrose Hill – 5th September”.

Opener “Artwork of Youth” is a poem recalling old schoolmates that Jones recites with a ready weariness. Moods that run through this record are gritty and tumultuous; disenchanted youth trying to “get f***ed for a fiver” on “Dreams so Rich, Life so Poor” and feeling as though all the doors have been bricked up. Their reference points are as versatile as any release this year – Patti Smith, Oasis, Dylan Thomas, Pete Doherty – there are frantic drum beats, screeching guitars and Jones’ Welsh tones which meander from a soft rasp and up to a raucous shout on “The Boy That Life Forgot”.

Few could make a song about Poundland seem as poignantly humorous or charming. So much of Swansea to Hornsey feels like self-flagellation, on a lyric like: “Please insert your meaningless life/Into the chip and pin device.” Jones bleeds on these songs.

11. J Hus, Common Sense

J Hus exploded into the mainstream consciousness with what could be held up as the sound of London, 2017, a heady mix of grime, hip hop, garage and afrobeats, with some jazz horns thrown in for good measure. Critics desperate to find an emerging grime artist to rave about after missing the boat with Stormzy would be disappointed; Hus skips round any chance to pigeonhole him with one genre.

Jae5’s beats nod to 90s garage on “Plottin’” then jump forward to minimalist trap music on Hus’s monster hit “Did You See”. His music sounds older than his years, the 21-year-old weaves stories with deft skill and fills them with colour; his mood changes as swiftly as the beat, from self-deprecating to menacing to pure cheek. It’s a thrilling work to listen to when you consider what he must have in store for 2018.

12. King Krule, The OoZ

Under his latest alias, Archy Marhsall releases perhaps his most concrete effort to date. Still only 23 years old, he has fun on this album, stretched across it like some sleepy big cat, flexing its claws – as much fun as someone as conflicted-sounding as he does can.

“I think she thinks I’m bipolar,” he drones on opener “Biscuit Town”, drawing on the sort of woozy early Noughties jazz-rock favoured by Mr Scruff or DJ Yoda. He seems haunted by Tom Waits on “Slush Puppy” where he howls “nothing’s working with me/nothing’s working with me”.

It’s far from the most upbeat of records put out this year, but you don’t always want that. This is music to put on when you’re in a slump, at least to know that someone else is in the same melancholy mood.

13. Stormzy, Gang Signs and Prayer

Gang Signs & Prayer is the long-awaited record that didn’t disappoint, where the debut effort from the breakout grime star switched up from cold diss tracks to the gorgeous devotional hymn “Blinded By Your Grace Pt 2”.

It’s the self-awareness that sparks your attention on this record; he earns a chuckle on the Latin-influenced “Cold” when he muses: “I’ve been cold the whole season/I should call my next one Freezin’!”. On “First Things First”, as hard as he sounds he also opens up about mental health, breaking down boundaries in genre and society.

That and the sheer energy of the thing. The 23-year-old born Michael Omari is unstoppable and if you can’t keep up that’s your problem. “Big For Your Boots” – produced by Sir Spyro and Adele collaborator Fraser T Smith – is a ferocious smack-down to anyone trying to challenge him.

14. St Vincent, MASSEDUCTION

St Vincent’s new album MASSEDUCTION is new pop art: the bold block colours and the dynamics on this record are phenomenal, her songwriting is intelligent and the touches on production from Jack Antonoff it one of the best pop records of the year.

Annie Clark’s latest record is supposed to be her most revealing; it focuses on themes of “power and sex, imperilled relationships and death”.

Our critic Andy Gill noted: “The androgyne appeal and fast, chattering synths of “Sugarboy” recall the sensuous entreaties of Goldfrapp, establishing a more direct electropop style also used on “Fear The Future”, which hurtles into uncertainty on a juddering synth pulse, and the punningly-titled single “Los Ageless”, a snarky dig at vampiric Hollywood celebrocracy.” Read the full review here.

15. Jay Z, 4: 44

Sometimes owning up to your own indiscretions can be the best therapy. On 4:44 Jay Z addresses the accusations that appeared in his wife Beyonce’s groundbreaking work Lemonade, that sparked countless articles speculating on the state of their relationship.

4:44 is the latest chapter in the fascinating story that is the Knowles-Carter family, an album where Jay Z apologies for infidelity, challenges his own ego, and opens up about his personal life more than than he ever has previously. On “Smile” he seems to reveal that his mother is a lesbian: “Had to pretend so long, she’s a thespian,” he raps with some heartbreak for the woman who raised him and his three siblings.

Then on “Family Feud” he most explicitly refers to the rumours that swirled around Beyonce’s fearsome “Sorry” where she says, catastrophically: “He only want me when I’m not there/He better call Becky with the good hair.”

There are several Jay Z albums you could hold up as being superior in terms of production and creativity, but it was the depth of thought and self-flagellation on this record that makes it stand out among the rest.

16. Vince Staples, Big Fish Theory

In the space of five years, LA rapper Vince Staples has released six entirely different projects, consistently shying away from attempts to define him by refusing to produce two comparable works.

On Big Fish Theory – his second studio album – he brings together a glimmering dance electronic groove and old school hip hop. It’s an experience – one that profiles Staple’s exceptional skill with narrative, and while it may drift in mood (far more than 2015’s Summertime ’06), it holds him up alongside the likes of Kanye West and Childish Gambino.

On closer “Rain Come Down”, a beat from Los Angeles’s Zach Sekoff provides a trembling bassline that he follows with a stream-of-consciousness meander. Staples himself has spoken about his futuristic approach and you wonder if his audience are able to keep up with him. If they are, it’s quite the adventure.

17. Queens of the Stone Age, Villains

Villains is all about shock factor. It’s in the drama of opener “Feet Don’t Fail Me”, that thudding, tribal war cry that spills out ahead of the synths and that juddery, ecstatic guitar riff.

Mark Ronson is likely the last producer fans would expect them to team up with, yet his expertise in funk suits this album perfectly, lifting their trademark robot-rock into something you can dance to.

“Life is hard, that’s why no one survives,” sings Josh Homme, “but I’m older than I thought I would be.” He’s having too much fun to stop the party.

Critic Andy Gill observed how “Villains Of Circumstance”, a “heavy-hearted separation plaint sung by Homme with a wan vulnerability that recall Bernard Sumner”, provides a counterbalance to the brash “Un-Reborn Again”

“I kid you not, it’s like a slowed-down ‘Telegram Sam’ sung by the Bowie of ‘The Man Who Sold The World’,” Gill wrote. “Extraordinary!”

18. Sampha, Process

Sampha Sisay’s father brought a piano into the family home in Morden, south London, when he was three years old, and it seems to be at the heart of this Mercury Prize-winning album.

His husky, delicate falsetto skims gently over each note, cracking with quiet grief on “No One Knows Me Like The Piano” then rising for the dark theatrics of “Blood On Me”.

Throughout the spare electro-soul you feel him speaking to his parents, a man still coping with loss, and addressing his own health struggles: “Sleeping with my worries,” he sings on opener “Plastic 100ºC”, “I didn’t really know what that lump was.” It’s a record to break your heart.

19. Taylor Swift, reputation

The artwork for Taylor Swift's new album has been unveiled by the artist on her Instagram page

Undoubtedly one of the most anticipated album releases of the year, Taylor Swift’s sixth record reputation is also one of her best, where on certain songs she seems more willingly vulnerable than she’s ever been, and others she seems the most menacing.

Waiting for boys on white horses is a thing of the past; Swift doesn’t need her lover to save her, as she notes on album standout “Call It What You Want”. Rather endearingly using British slang (“fit like a daydream”) she also sings about how he “loves me like I’m brand new”, forcing the listener to think of the list of famous ex-boyfriends the media – and the public – insists Swift carry around wherever she goes.

Producer Antonoff’s work on this record is essential. His love of Eighties synth-pop is the perfect counterbalance to Max Martin and Shellback’s dance and electronic touch; the album’s structure alternates between the two. On “Getaway Car” Swift emulates one of Antonoff’s favourites, Kate Bush, as she yells “go, go, go!”, while the song in its entirety recalls Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” – cellos and violins enhancing the drama.

One of Swift’s greatest talents is to encapsulate those small moments, often in a new relationship, that you as a listener cannot. There are very few faults in her songwriting on reputation, and it helps push across this idea of a multi-faceted pop artist who is, once again, at the top of her game.

20. Bonobo, Migration

Bonobo, aka Simon Green, is fascinated by the landscapes of Death Valley. Coming from the UK, with its (often damp) green woodland, the electronic artist delved into these alien landscapes and proceeded to paint his own; the sounds he uses tend to come from acoustic sources and he steers clear of digitally created noise, preferring to craft a human warmth: a montage of sounds that have been re-contextualised then put back together again.

Those hip-hop influences from some of his earliest work seem to have come full circle – Migration features less of the explicit jazz influences heard on his first three albums, but continues that “cut-and-paste” sample culture.

When there’s so much music you can listen to on the go, absent-mindedly flipping to another track when you’re only halfway through the first, Bonobo offers something to sit down and listen to, and allow yourself to be transported to another place.

21. Lana Del Rey, Lust For Life

On her latest record Lana Del Rey is far more self-aware than she has been on her previous albums, where her lyrics – often fetishising the tragic heroine, death and toxic relationships – quickly grew tiresome. By Ultraviolence, the follow-up to 2012’s Born to Die, it felt that she needed new things to sing about, or at least a new way to sing about them.

On the title track, her duet with The Weeknd proves a masterful pairing, they stand out among their peers as two artists who have succeeded at crafting their own myth at a time where no piece of information seems off-limits, and “too much information” is the menu du jour for far too many celebrities.

Like The Weeknd’s personal dark brand of R&B; Del Rey’s deliciously twisted pop fuses hip hop beats with her breathy vocal delivery; Lust For Life’s power is in its ability to keep things hidden, whilst seeming utterly explicit. It’s a heady mix to be caught up in.

22. The National, Sleep Well Beast

The National’s seventh album is about marriages falling apart, according to its frontman Matt Berginer. “It is not a happy album,” our reviewer wrote. But as we said with SZA, the dark times can be just as beautiful as the good. Sleep Well Beast is the band’s biggest departure from what many fans would consider their trademark sound: electronic influences crept in and Bryce Dessner’s forays into film composing seemed to have a positive impact on its gorgeous, textured instrumentation.

23. Brent Cobb, Shine On Rainy Day

This year’s EOY round-ups have (so far) largely featured just one emerging country artist, the gravelly tones of one Colter Wall, who is undoubtedly one of the year’s most exciting new voices. Yet it’s the softly spoken Brent Cobb who finds his way onto this particular end of year list, an artist whose songwriting skills have made their way to singers including Miranda Lambert, Luke Bryan and Little Big Town.

Shine On Rainy Day, Cobb’s debut, was produced by his cousin Dave, whose work helped propel Chris Stapleton to wider fame. It lingers over the finer details of a tall tale. On “Down In The Gulley” he imagines with humorous detail if his grandfather had kept an illegal moonshine distillery. It’s a humour that crops up plenty of times on the record: on “Diggin’ Holes” he considers how he manages to get himself into scrapes, despite his best intentions.

On its deeply affecting title track, Cobb strips everything back and lets his voice and his songwriting do the work, singing: “Ain’t it funny how a little thunder/Makes a man start to wonder/Should he swim or just go under?” It’s utterly timeless; an album that suspends you in the moment and makes you want to linger for a while.

24. Charlotte Gainsbourg, Rest

Would you expect Charlotte Gainsbourg’s first LP in seven years to start like a missing part of Daft Punk’s Tron soundtrack? Probably not, but it does. Sung mostly in French, Gainsbourg’s latest work documents a woman trying to help her sister battle mental illness; her own half-sister Kate Barry, the photographer, died from what was presumed to be suicide after falling from a window in 2013.

Her film background is perfect for Rest’s haunting instrumentation: vast expanses that explore her grief in uncomfortable detail. The title track – the song written closest to Barry’s death – uses French-English wordplay to heartbreaking effect as she sings in trembling falsetto: “reste” (“rest” in English or “stay” in French) over Guy Manuel de Homem-Christo’s synths. Either interpretation is devastating.

25. Thundercat, Drunk

Thundercat’s third album is a 23-track tumble down the rabbit hole. The Independent’s album critic Andy Gill wrote: “His nimble, knuckle-knotting basslines to tracks like “Uh Uh” suggest many an hour glued to Stanley Clark albums, though Thundercat’s fast-edit changes – switching abruptly between cool jazz, prog-fusion and sleek soul – along with his liking for weird time-signatures and even weirder lyrics, suggest an affinity for Frank Zappa and George Clinton.” Read the full review here.

26. Cigarettes After Sex, Cigarettes After Sex

Greg Gonzalez’s half-asleep voice is hypnotic as anything else released this year. The frontman of the Brooklyn-based band begins their debut album by singing of his infatuation with a woman called Kristen.

“We had made love earlier that day, with no strings attached/But I could tell that something had changed,” he sings. It’s an album of love songs, but as millennials would understand them: of one-word texts and f***ing someone because an app said you matched. Earlier this year, Gonzalez made The Independent a Valentine’s playlist with a twist. A lot of the songs he chose were about goodbyes.

If anything Gonzelez’s searching, introspective gaze is the antithesis to The 1975’s noisy I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware Of It, exploring similar themes but without the self-important posturing.

On “Affection” you hear the pain of a relationship that has grown toxic. The narrator attempts to persuade himself and his lover otherwise; his vocal delivery and the yearning guitar skating across a fragile beauty that can break your heart and mend it all at once.

27. Bleachers, Gone Now

It seemed as though the world only really caught up with Jack Antonoff in 2017. From his work with Lorde on her superb second album Melodrama to Taylor Swift’s sixth record reputation, he has fast-become one of the most in-demand pop producers of the year.

On his own project, Bleachers, a second LP builds on Antonoff’s love for anthemic Eighties pop – Kate Bush, Bowie, Tom Petty – and excels with that stadium-filling ecstasy, but also on quieter moments such as “All My Heroes Get Tired”, that builds in expectation but leaves the listener with painful suspense.

28. The War On Drugs, A Deeper Understanding

The War On Drugs’ first album for Atlantic Records would always struggle to live up to fan expectations, lifted by their 2014 breakout Lost In The Dream.

What it does succeed in is a sweeping grandeur that brings out some of the most exquisite arrangements of singer/writer Adam Granduciel’s career. Nothing is overly cluttered, despite the frontman having 10 instrument credits on one track (as well as singing) and the album is powered by a new purpose he seems to have fund in a year of writing and recording, his commitment to the band sounding stronger than ever.

29. The xx, I See You

The XX 'I See You' album cover

When they arrived on the scene with their outstanding debut xx in 2009, it felt as though the London trio were ahead of the times in the way they expressed their feelings of anxiety and human fragility; in a tone that was both tentative and heartbreakingly confessional.

Now, inspired by the sunshine and sweeping landscapes of LA and Iceland, where they recorded I See You, the band succeed in bringing some light into the picture while also acknowledging that some of those feelings of anxiety or inadequacy are still there.

“Brave For You” sees Romy Madley Croft confront deeply personal issues involving family; her quavering voice ripples across sparse, respectful instrumentation: “So I will be brave for you/ Stand on a stage for you/ Do the things that I’m afraid to do.”

The xx have maintained that element of mystique which is so vital for their music. They are exciting precisely because they refuse to reveal everything about themselves, and because there is an ambiguity to be found in lyrics that come across as bluntly personal. It’s a talent that was present in their first two albums, only this time, they’ve let the light in a bit.

30. Alexandra Saviour, Belladonna of Sadness

Saviour has her mentor Alex Turner’s keen ability for a turn of phrase. Record companies approached her when she was 16 years old, but she declined offers to make her the next Katy Perry. She met the Arctic Monkeys frontman in LA, where they enlisted producer James Ford [My Propeller, Arctic Monkeys] and created a debut album that fits.

There’s a calm insolence in her voice on opener “Mirage” – and throughout the record, even as she sings on “Audeline”: “He spends his days with What’s-Her-Face.” Yet underneath that apparent nonchalance there’s a bitter restlessness that sees her sway from the sort of film siren ennui of Lana Del Rey on “Bones” to a Turner-esque drawl on “’Til You’re Mine”.