Deez exhibits the songwriting panache of a Brendan Benson or Ben Folds, and this album acts as his DIY taster in the same way as the former's One Mississippi and the latter's work with Majosha.

Peculiar and unconventional, this is an album which constantly shape-shifts and surprises, but does so with a graceful, effortless ease that feels incredibly natural and utterly delightful.

There must be worse fates than ending up as a classic pop jukebox, and there's excitement as well as devotion in all this archaeology.

Judged objectively, Minotaur is a good if somewhat slight record, with enough quality to comfortably surpass most music likely to be released this year. But when compared to The Clientele's previous work, this is one for the completists rather than an essential purchase.

What is present is that instant-click connection between artist and audience that only comes with the most naked of performances--Monotony is one such riveting recital, sketchy yet complete--and Beal's commitment to documenting the minutiae alongside the meaningful in comparable detail ensures that even-handedness permeates the entire set.

Astro Coast sounds so prescient that Surfer Blood will be riding a wave of popularity for a good few months yet.

There's a real intelligence about the whole album that looks to old-school hip hop and late-model disco, which were never too far apart, to provide a platform springy enough and familiar enough for the singer to launch her vocals.

The type of punch Metronomy now pack is differently varied, and instead of relying on catchy melodies, its excitement and originality is now more broadly sourced.

While Endgame is a strong album, and certainly an honourable one, it does lack an ingredient that might be identified as magic.

They've produced an album worthy of a closer look.

This is the sound of sun-stunned drift, as opposed to slacker ennui. Such a formula could make for an enervating listen, but this debut album is shot through with casually glorious melodies.

There's nothing bad to be said for Soul 2, and with Horn on production everything shines brightly like the first snowflakes of a new winter.

For all its capricious cherry-picking of the historic benchmarks of sensuality and synthetics, there's still a sense of genuine invention that permeates the whole album.

The Belbury Tales is infused with a deep vein of paranoia, a palpable fear, an attempt to reconcile the imminent unknown (evoking a reimagined or never experienced past).

Ultimately this sounds like a side project, which can only be so disappointing when that's precisely what it is.

This is a credible collection of electronic RnB tracks that owes a greater debt to another, more grown-up Justin.

A curious collection of techno covers from the Detroit garage-rockers.

It's less Working For than Driving Through a nuclear-free (or otherwise) city, taking in all the myriad sights, as opposed to the unchanging view of the motorway/ autobahn.

It may only be a stopgap before the official follow-up to Jewellery, but like all the best mixtapes, it's a telling insight into its creator's unconventional mind.

Get these cuts [I'll Never Let Go and Called Out In The Dark] out of the way, though, and Fallen Empires settles down and improves.

The result is a bolder, brighter record than their debut.

To the Yorn faithful this set will probably seem like a step in the right direction.

Out of the Game is very much a master class in restraint. Rather than straining for the big choruses, here Wainwright intones over smooth backings, horns and the gospel harmonies of Brooklyn soul-stirrers The Dap-Kings.

It may be time to tinker next time around, but right now he's redeemed an awful lot of himself.

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

The component parts of this record prove that indie rock may be 'dying' commercially but still sounds alive and kicking.

The results occasionally jar, when Epstein's consistently elaborate productions overshadow the more pedestrian of Zott's compositions, but generally the sum of their parts is an equation to be savoured, and frequently produces magic.

Lupe remains a singular hip hop voice, and Lasers is still worth a listen.