Lancashire has a habit of producing bands who sound like they've been forged rather than formed, and Defined By slot neatly into that lineage with "Monopoly," a single that arrives less like a calling card and more like a clenched fist through the letterbox. Four musicians, freshly reconstituted, have spent the past couple of years road-testing this sound in rooms that matter more than their size suggests — Preston's Ferret, Burnley's Loom, a headline turn at Horwich's Ramp — and the graft shows. This is a band who've learned their craft on sticky floors rather than in spreadsheets, and "Monopoly" carries the calluses to prove it.

Records made by friends in a room tend to sound either like a warm hug or a hostage negotiation. *Bass River Sessions*, cut over several sittings on a Massachusetts street and named for it, sounds like three men who have spent years arguing productively about guitars finally being allowed to leave the amps switched on.

Thiago Barlanza has picked an audacious name for a project built on such quiet, unshowy tenderness. We As Gods, shuttling between Rio de Janeiro and Lisbon in its making, trades in analog warmth and hazy, softly smudged textures — the sonic equivalent of a photograph left slightly out of focus on purpose. "A Human Like You," the title track and opening statement of his debut album, is the clearest possible introduction to that world, and it earns the honour.

Three years of van fumes, sticky floors and half-empty rehearsal rooms have distilled into something genuinely worth your attention. *I Will Work Harder* arrives not as a tentative debut but as a document of a band who have already lived the life the songs describe — and it shows in every bruised, brassy bar of it.

Banquet Darling has never been an act content to sit quietly at the back of the room, and NOW confirms as much within its opening bars. Todd Kilby's music arrives dressed in sequins and doubt in equal measure, and the record wastes no time announcing itself as a genuine leap from Dreamlove Obscura's cult beginnings into something altogether more confident, more sprawling, and considerably stranger.

There's a particular alchemy that happens when a band understands that rage, to be truly effective, must be dressed in melody. OpCritical have understood this from the start, but with "Guillotine," the closing chapter of their inequality trilogy, they've perfected it. This is protest music that doesn't so much knock on your door as kick it clean off the hinges — and yet you find yourself humming the wreckage on the way to work the next morning.

Jaw tight, pulse quickened, and the phone still warm from a call you wish you'd never answered — this is the emotional weather Litiges! chooses to open with, and it's a bold decision. Most songwriters reach for the explosion. Vinz Noise, the man operating under this moniker, reaches instead for the slow burn, the clenched grievance, the anger that has learned manners because it's been disappointed too many times to bother shouting.

Jacob Klein has spent the past few years accumulating grief the way other people accumulate frequent flyer miles, and on *DOGSTAR 1* he finally cashes it all in. This is a record built from the wreckage of a very specific, very brutal stretch of one man's life — a dying dog, a dissolved decade-long relationship, a flood that swallowed his adopted city whole — and yet it never once curdles into misery tourism. That's the trick of it. Grief albums are two a penny; ones that actually earn their catharsis are rarer than a clear night sky over Asheville.

Loss makes strange architects. It tears down whatever you thought you'd built and leaves you standing in the rubble, wondering what to do with your hands. On their third record, Litvar's Rex Thurstan picks through that rubble with a Gibson J-45 and something like tenderness, and the result is the most persuasive thing this band has committed to tape.

Four musicians who met over a decade ago in Seattle have finally made the record their whole career seemed to be circling. *Black Whole* is the sound of a band refusing to be pinned down, and refusing beautifully.