This is an airy (but not aerated) blend of ambience, indie pop and 80s synth music, delivered with a grace that ensures they're miles from lo-fi territory.

On paper, everything about Timez Are Weird These Days lends itself to an ostentatious dose of elite, Hoxtonite posturing. But there's substance beneath the style, a welcome human quality to withstand the opulent demi-house compositions.

Their most adventurous, confident and engaging record in years.

If only there was more drama of this sort here, and a little less schmaltz, to bolster Ring's talent as an arranger and a producer.

It's easier to forgive the tracks that meander, ponder and lament. In fact, for better or worse, that's sort of the point.

This is the sound of a band hitting their stride and just running with all of their strengths on show--and there can be no complaints about that.

Heritage has some strong predecessors to live up to. But it will surely be seen as one of their most accomplished works in years to come.

Either way, if you're no fan of the fey and fantastical, you're best off fleeing. Still interested? Well, hard work it may be, but it's not without its rewards.

Velociraptor! is neither the classic Pizzorno insists it is, nor the numbskull stadium rock cynics will presume it is.

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.

It's still a slice of superior Americana that enhances Richmond Fontaine's standing as one of the genre's premier attractions.

Killer Sounds is as assured as third albums should be, and were it a debut album it would be feted as a bright start. However, there is the sense we should be expecting more from Hard-Fi at this point, as the sporadic sparks of brilliance here demonstrate they are capable of it.

The result is an album that will make many a listener feel like the cat that got the cream.

Across these varied tracks we hear Wretch 32 in all of his lyrical glory, making good on the promise he's shown since day one.

There's plenty of interest here, then, but not enough to satisfy across a whole album.

Proof positive that Tripper is, fittingly, Hella more focused than its spaced-out title or the duo's hippy slacker personal demeanours might suggest.

Combined with playing that soars so majestically from this band's fingers, the end result is a set that is both unusual yet immediate. If you only buy one album this month, in the opinion of these ears, this should be it.

It's not sonically unique. Yet there's a charm here.

There's that genuinely disappointing sense of having heard this before, whether it be on 2007's Some Loud Thunder, their debut, or in countless other bands. Yet there's still a spark here that holds interest for a few listens.

With high-concept sounds and an ace sleeve, Again Into Eyes is a bold debut, and an extremely rewarding experience.

There's very little drive in Junk of the Heart, just a messy selection of meandering verses that surely can't be the product of three years' work.

Her worldly-wise tone can still come over a little smug but give her time – she'll grow younger than this yet.

Gravity the Seducer isn't the ultimate Ladytron album, a title which still belongs to Velocifero. It's too uncertain for that, with the slight wobbliness of someone injured learning to walk again.

Never Trust a Happy Song is far from a cohesive album, but that actually works to its advantage--because it encapsulates the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, of this emotional rollercoaster known as life.

It's lengthy, but the sensitivity of every guitar tickle and percussive touch, as well as main man Christopher Owens' spellbinding voice, means that it is rarely boring.

So yes, it's imperfect, and it's frequently beautiful, much like the world itself, yeah? Do you see? Oh, too relaxed to care? Righto.

It's full of the kind of heavy textures and atmospheric nuances that explain exactly why Johnson is also a movie soundtrack composer of increasing repute.

This is about as good and sustained a riposte to the grubby, grabbing times we live in as any artist has mustered, which makes it essential listening.