Chaz Bundick could have pleased the masses with another dance-pop infused record, but he bravely chose to pull a musical u-turn and return to his humble roots. Bursting with distorted guitars and lo-fi indie rock tones, the multi-talented musician still writes with a youthful poignancy and maintains the elements of funk that cause the average joe to lose control of their limbs. (James Moore)
Like many of the musicians she grew up listening to - Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell - Laura Marling sheds her musical skin with each album she produces, emerging with a rejuvenated sense of purpose and a new direction. Given the beauty and brutality of Short Movie - on which she has embraced electric guitars, an American lilt and themes of a tentative, self-serving sort of love - one hopes she’ll stick with this skin for a little while. "Do I look like I’m fucking around?" she asks on 'Don't Let Me Bring You Down'. The answer to that, of course, is a resounding no. (Alexandra Pollard)
You can tell from the off with 'Singularity' that this is going to be the perfect listen for fans of all things New Order. With a Joy Division sense of menace and packed with that classic New Order infectious elegiac charm, it more than pays its dues to the past. However, there's a compulsion to its energy, and a life that charges ever onwards. This is the sound very much of today. It is immediately made clear that New Order still matter.
'Restless', 'Plastic' along with 'Tutti Frutti' and 'Peope On The High Line' guested by La Roux's Elly Jackson are far from just an echoing of past glories - they add real substance for the present day. Most artists of their age can only dream of being able to inspire this much love by rolling off classics with the calibre of 'Bizarre Love Triangle', 'The Perfect Kiss' and the pristine, heartache and perfection of 'Temptation', but to compete with their own legacy with such aplomb puts them in a league of their own. (Andrew Trendell)
The meandering, accidental profundity of the album's title sets the tone for what follows. Barnett tackles the most mundane of topics - organic vegetables, pressed metal ceilings, a sneezing fit in a car - and somehow, without a hint of pretension and over a scuzzy guitar riff, imbues them with a deeper significance.
On 'Pedestrian At Best', the words spill out of her in an uncontrollable stream-of-consciousness: "I hate seeing you crying in the kitchen / I don't know why it affects me like this when you're not even mine to consider / erroneous, harmonious I'm hardly sanctimonious." It's a riveting and beautifully assured debut. (Alexandra Pollard)
With only nine tracks, Fading Frontier is a brief indulgence yet a sweet one. It’s their most pop effort to date and encapsulates rich life and cultural influences. Before releasing the album in October of this year songwriter Bradford Cox drew a concept map that he shared online. On it were R.E.M , Pablo Neruda, the death of his dog, and the salt air of Big Sur, California. The album’s atmosphere seems well suited to Big Sur, it’s dreamy, grandiose, and feels like a sonic escape from frantic urban life. (Cai Trefor)
One minute a touching ode to childhood friendship ("I'm so lucky, you are my best friend / Oh, there's no one, there's no one who knows me like you do"), the next a raucous exorcism of bitterness and anger ("You ain't going to heaven, cus I'm dragging you down to hell / Where's Mum and Dad so you can tell them? You're a dodgy fucker as well") Wolf Alice's debut is immediately destined for greatness.
Toying with the traditions of feminine vulnerability, Ellie Rowsell's vocals are the hook on which the scuzzy guitar rock hangs - endlessly changeable yet consistently recognisable. An instant classic. (Alexandra Pollard)
The most consistently affecting record Sufjan Stevens as ever released in his decade of making records. While Illinois, Michigan and Seven Swans are all harrowing, joyful and everything in between - Carrie & Lowell hits the main artery softly and with an understated weight. Charting the complicated negotiations and internal diatribe of losing his mother, Sufjan taps into a dimension of songwriting he never dared to venture before.
Between the surrendering phantoms on “Fourth of July” and acceptance of flaw on ‘John My Beloved’, regardless of one’s personal family matters and varying mental states - Carrie & Lowell captures sadness as no other record has this year - as a profoundly human affectation. (Will Butler)
A tasty mix of beauty thrown in with some casual filth and general depravity, Joshua Tillman translates what it is to be human and full of love, lust and fire into a whole amazing poetry backed by a genre-spanning complete sound. The maniacal squawks at the climax of 'The Ideal Husband' calls to mind the likes of Nick Cave and Iggy Pop at their most unhinged, while the aching ambivalence of 'Bored In The USA' show him to be every bit the people's poet before the sultry swagger of 'When You Are Smiling And Astride Me' brings him back to the character of the loveable, liquid-limbed lounge lizard that he has created FJM wraps it up in a classy chaos all of his own. (Andrew Trendell)
In the grand scheme of 2015, music pales in significance compared to the wider state of current affairs. So it’s more important than ever for music and all artforms to be spreading a message - one of discourse and unity. Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly doesn’t only fulfil this criteria but excels it and will continue to be referenced as one of the most resonant albums of this decade for years to come.
With features from George Clinton to Snoop Dogg and Flying Lotus, To Pimp A Butterfly ties together the lineage of black culture and music succinctly to magnificent effect. At it’s core it’s a hip-hop album but what it represents it’s much larger than that. The record is masterwork that will be revered not just at the heights of this list at the end of the year, but in the subconscious of music fans and civil rights references for decades to come. (Will Butler)
Read the rest of our albums of the year below
