Mission of Burma: signals, calls, and marches/Vs.

An all-analogue space-rock, Krautrock-influenced, motorik-driven psychedelic ride on Saturn’s rings, Gwenno’s Y Dydd Olaf is a treat from start to end. Her sweet but dislocated vocals mesh with snappy bass guitar, bloopy synths and the otherworldly atmosphere of Ralph & Florian Kraftwerk.

Do you remember Alisha’s Attic? The '90s sister-duo’s debut was the first album I bought, and it was full of pretty pop songs soaked in vinegar and malice. Wolf Alice, a grunge-pop four-piece from north London, remind me of Alisha’s Attic, at least on those songs fronted by angelic-voiced co-founder Ellie Rowsell - or more specifically, they remind me of Alisha’s Attic if the latter's Shelly and Karen were fronting My Bloody Valentine.

The Mothmen: Pay Attention!

There’s no doubt SPOT is Europe’s tidiest music festival. In hosting SPOT, Denmark’s second-city Aarhus turns the expectation of what a festival can be around. There’s no mud, no one takes a stage late and the sound is always immaculate. Underworked stewards collect what little debris there is. The two main venues are so spotlessly non-rock they force the focus towards the music.

Few would have predicted it back when they were gooning around in over-tight Adidas t-shirts, but with the benefit of hindsight it makes sense that Blur should have the most convincing longevity of the Britpop generation. Why? Because more than any of their contemporaries, and despite all the personality clashes and narcotic breakdowns, they were genuinely a band. Yes, Damon Albarn was the leader, but he never eclipsed the other three in the way that Jarvis or the Gallaghers did.

To let you understand the spontaneous grin that burst across my face when I first heard Foil Deer probably needs a little context: I studied, and now have a job involving, corporate law. Still, there’s no getting away from the fact that the powerful feminist themes and dirty, grungy guitar work form only part of the reason that Massachusetts indie rockers Speedy Ortiz’s third album is such a fantastic listen: frontwoman and songwriter Sadie Dupuis’ wordplay has never been stronger.

The Liverpool-based female trio Stealing Sheap’s second album Not Real frustrates. By turns immediate and deliberate, its Meccano-kit pop isn’t bolted together as a harmonious whole. Instead of meshing, electro beats and chanted vocals clash. It sounds as if an old-fashioned road-testing of the songs would have worked the bugs out, helped strip away extraneous textures, and injected some much-needed pep.

Drenge made themselves known to the world some 18 months ago, surfing on the back of their abrasive self-titled debut album and some unexpected PR assistance from West Midlands MP Tom Watson. Back then, the Loveless brothers were a loud and lairy duo that took rock music by the scruff of the neck and knocked seven bells out of it with their stripped-down sound. With the recent release of their second album, Undertow, however, there have been some changes. Most noticeably, their sound has got richer and considerably grungier, while a bass player has been added to the line-up.

I often think that, once a band hits certain milestones – longevity, moderate commercial success, critical acclaim – it can be difficult to know where to begin. I don’t mean the big bands, with the songs you’d recognise if you heard them in an advert or at a festival, their big hits acting as gateway drugs to those who’d like to find out more; but rather those mid-level indie bands beloved by those in the know and yet whose names prompt glazed looks when your colleagues ask you who you went to see at the weekend.