If there's a weakness here, it's in the lack of variety to Smalhans' structures and sounds, the emphasis on arpeggios and keyboard lines that arc ever higher.

Californian duo's first LP for five years is a downbeat delight.

Of the nine songs that aren't singles already, four are cut from the same cloth as the hits: each one desperately vying to be the tune you most want to be dancing to when the realisation hits that you're out, the night is young, and everything is brilliant.

Godspeed have once again created a challenging, intense, evocative work, worthy of their canon.

For the most part this album, while as slickly produced as the classic pop it references, only faintly smoulders without igniting.

The familiar nature of this material takes nothing away from Trilogy. This is a great commercially available introduction to a young RnB talent who's following Frank Ocean into the mainstream.

Pale Fire is a pale beauty, and if you're seeking the chill-out Lykke Li (with whom she split a single in 2009) or an equivalent oasis of smouldering calm, Assbring will see you right.

Yet if Lonerism's epic psych-gasm has a weak spot, it's how it rarely slows down to take in the extraordinary view whizzing by.

The whopping 50 tracks are judiciously enough chosen to demonstrate why the band is legendary.

There's nothing tender here; clever it may be, but too clever for its own good.

The core elements are so big, like blasts of pure plasmic energy, that it sounds planet-sized.

It's neither particularly accessible nor a nostalgic feast for fans of 90s pop-punk. Instead, it seems like part of an as-yet-incomplete whole.

Ultimately it's The Avett Brothers' innate ability to deliver killer tunes and present them in an engaging fashion that connects them to a vintage pedigree of classic Americana artists, from Crosby, Stills & Nash and Neil Young onwards, that seduces you from track one.

RIITIIR is a complex, schizophrenic work, verging on the overly sensorial at points, leaving the listener feeling as if they've been repeatedly bashed over the head with a really clever hammer.

It transcends the boundaries and expectations of its genre--even those previously set by the very band that made it.

Polished and dependable, despite its safety there are some show-stopping pop anthems present.

Another classic of the genre is born.

King Animal undeniably draws its strength from the band's accessible Superunknown era, but also takes Soundgarden somewhere fresh.

Just to Feel Anything doesn't disappoint, although those eager for meditative meanderings might feel detached from its propulsive, purposeful tangents.

the band have still got their peers beat hands down and exhibit enough vision to have you hoping they'll transcend mere re-revivalism yet further with whatever they put out next.

A set that is rich with a sense of storytelling, sentiment and atmosphere, warm beneath its songs' occasionally chilly edges.

Terrifying yet magnificent horror from a group getting doom metal so very right.

For those hankering for the lost summer of 2012, solace could well be found in the rays of musical sunlight that burst out of every hook and melody of By Your Side.

From album to album, The Bad Plus continue to evolve and improve.

More often than not, these reinventions are successful. They won't usurp the originals, but they're not really supposed to, and some shed new light on the well-known version.

It's like these songs have had their windows cleaned, a few crows' feet ironed out.

While there are standouts, the whole is greater than its parts.

The compositions are pretty formulaic and the lyrics aren't overly technical. Still, it works for Mill as a respectable effort that exorcises personal demons and moves him beyond illicit history.

On We Don't Even Live Here he brings lyrical grit, tightly leashed rage and a general disregard for genre boundaries.

This worthwhile venture serves as a fine complementary package, not exactly pushing at the edges of its makers' own creative envelope but exploring known ground extremely well.

It's not perfect... Overall, though, this is a long overdue, welcome comeback.

A shimmering, lovely thing, this debut is also full of adventurous spirit.

[Beacon] is the mark of a band who know their sound, have a newfound confidence, and are well-equipped to do some serious damage to the chart this time around.

The outcome is impressive, and throughout he remains true to himself and his esoteric style.

Let It Break is a fine achievement, certainly, and only faulty due to some of the more by-numbers pieces within.

This is agonisingly personal music, poured straight from the heart--just as punk should be. It's a bonus that it's also frightening catchy.

This isn't a conventional album by the ordinary standards of today, but it's fantastic. Crazy Horse are the perfect band for this sort of wistful noise, carrying both Young's simple melodies and his love of stretching out with equal ease.

As methods go it can be messy, but it also throws up some interesting hybrids.

"Powerful" is perhaps the most fitting word, and though the strength of certain arrangements can feel all-engulfing, there are too many moments of near-inexpressible, extravagant brilliance on The Silicone Veil to deny Sundfør's overall accomplishment.

Twins is a pile-driving yet playful record that loudly proclaims is influences.

GEM is far from a masterpiece, but it's the work of an intriguing young artist still shaping a distinctive voice. It's hard to know if the pleasure is in listening to it, or imagining where she might go next.

Bossalinis & Fooliyones, while not exactly what you'd call a mainstream rap album, is consistently accessible, and in thrall to a tangle of overground production styles.

Vultures isn't an album we'll be talking about 20 years from now, but for thrills, spills and hair-raising heaviness, it gets the job done in style.

As it stands, the rich resources Acheson has at his disposal are sadly compromised and the orchestra is indeed hidden rather than exposed.

Until Now is best experienced with your critical faculties compromised.

She's a quick-witted lyricist with a sharp eye.

The dizzying craftsmanship evident on this debut LP is never an obstacle.

It's exhausting, and somehow impatient. Swedish House Mafia don't earn their big moments, they throw them in whenever the ideas pot runs dry.

He reaches beyond his home state for a broader sound, and the results are remarkable.

While it lacks focus and cohesive identity, the album Paul Banks named after himself does demonstrate that there's more to this artist than previous form suggests

They're too bland, too safe and too boring.

Simultaneously taut and lush jazz-funk-pop.

Repeated listens of this finely realised album are therefore an enjoyable must.

While The Haunted Man is an impressive record, one heavy with earnestness and polished sophistication, it's more like The Tin Man: somehow it lacks a heart.

As it is, it's simply the next Leona Lewis album.

[Martha Wainwright] has realised her best record to date.

On an album of depth and scale, Lytle is aiming to move mountains. It's big.

If Mika had refined this into a 10-track collection, trimming the cuts that don't quite click, we'd have an excellent album on our hands. As it is, The Origin of Love is stretched slightly too long.

Sundark and Riverlight is thankfully more chamber pop than chamber pot. It's an elegant collection, but an acquired taste.

That voice, with its hint of Gene Pitney, is a piercing, precise tool which lifts him above the laddish milieu. Ubiquity may beckon.

What scuppers Halcyon, though, is the sense that Ellie's still not nailed down her own identity. There's just too much bombast, and the magpie-like-production and big, booming arrangements swaddle rather than swathe her vocals.

While this is a confident and at times sharply written debut, there's little to suggest that Dog Is Dead bring anything new to the table.

Not a record to play through seamlessly but one to skip and cherry pick, Out of the Black is about selecting the monsters, and cranking them out at the volume they deserve.

From its start to the jazzy electro shuffle of You're Out that rounds it off, Ultraísta is consistently involving, even if it sags in the middle with Our Song. It's set to be a cult favourite rather than sell millions of copies, but this is because it contains fascinating ideas you won't hear on most pop records.

Lynne doesn't try to break any moulds here, but respectfully doffs a cap at those that shaped him.

This eighth studio album sees the four-piece climb the next step of the stairway of relevance.

Blood simple and bloody minded, their half-hour self-titled debut is a welcome lurch straight for the jugular.

It's definitely a subtle magic TOPS weave here, and like all the best records, Tender Opposites rewards repeated spins.

With the multitude of guests, perhaps this would be better as a DVD. When experienced as audio only the ears are forced to make some wild and sudden adjustments. But maybe that's one of this disc's perverse attractions.

Jiaolong is an effortless collection that just won't quit.

This forgiving, tender album still offers a welcome, optimistic twist on the normally bitter genre of break-up albums.

All things considered, Gold Dust works as an introduction to Tori Amos, though an imperfect one. It should also persuade a few lapsed fans to get reacquainted.

[Silver Age is] a man doing what he does best.

Perhaps glossier and a touch more refined, Circles nevertheless stands up very well on its own terms, and complements its predecessor not in spite, but precisely because of their similarities.

The players here use that joyful experience to forge exciting new traditions.

Shields pushes and prods at musical boundaries in a similar way to Talk Talk's 1986 masterpiece, The Colour of Spring.

On the whole this is a marvellous snapshot of a supreme talent deserving of more respect than he's been afforded in recent years.

These 13 songs are a bold leap forward for Zygadlo, and feel like a personal, intimate success.

Until the Quiet Comes further catapults Ellison into the cosmos and away from all things terrestrial. He's the king of his domain, and there is no runner-up.

The array of musical styles on show across The 2nd Law means that, like many of this band's past albums, it doesn't entirely coalesce into a seamless collection of songs... But when this album works, it works well.

The Bloom and the Blight builds on the band's strengths and successfully maintains their idiosyncrasies, offering persuasive evidence that they are more than ready to step up a level themselves.

This delicacy was always the logical progression, and fans growing with Orton will find much to love about Sugaring Season.

Oh No I Love You is a warm affair and a slightly more together reflection of Tim than I Believe was, and the accompanying remix album with cosmic re-works by the likes of Seahawks is a bonus too. This deserves to find itself in as many homes as possible.

It's a marvellous, spine-tingling journey around some not-so-obvious American songs, and also a stunning tutorial in different American music styles, strung together by LaVette's sensuous singing... Possibly the best set of songs she's ever recorded.

Right now, for all its impressive fireworks, it feels hollow as its title.

He Is #1 has a refreshingly unencumbered sound, a lack of technological interference allowing the honesty and authenticity of the music to shine through.

The Dark Crawler shows just how varied a grime album can actually be.

Bensussen has delivered a varied, immersive set of highly memorable, enjoyable and danceable tracks that should push him further into the limelight where he has triumphantly proved he belongs.

While not exactly standing alongside their best in terms of outright quality, shows that even Elbow's 'hidden' past is worthy of deeper exploration.

It's an album of perfect modern psychedelia, pristine in content but ramshackle in style.

A very unusual blues record that's also a very unusual Kid Koala record, putting aside his typical playfulness and reminding us that he can truly move us with his turntablism, as well as amuse.

Though its combative title suggests Khaled cares little for anybody's approval, Kiss the Ring ends up more of a formulaic slugging match than any collection of genuine rap prize-fighters really should.

The Sea and Cake's music is more about mood than narrative, as with the largely acoustic Harbor Bridges' gorgeous evocation of summer's end.

Meat + Bone operates with the same lean, restless energy JSBX always display in concert: at their best, no band sounds this alive, unable to sit still for a second.

Free from grandly theatrical flourishes that were threatening to become things of creative captivity, ¡Uno!'s graceful manoeuvres confirm Green Day's status as one of the world's finest rock'n'roll bands.

The follow-up to 2010's Paupers Field, this set plunders the overarching melancholy of Townes Van Zandt, making for an emotionally draining listen.

Substance is favoured over production sheen throughout the album, with every element of each track having a definite function and no sonic fat or filler allowed.

Fewer Pro Tool and more risks, and Dhani might just be onto something.