The result is a brilliant and warped collection of sinister lullabies and dreamlike ballads in which Funk’s gravelly timbre jars against Pollock’s dreamy vocals in a beautifully nightmare-infused collision.

It may not be original, but in a time where bands prefer to gaze wistfully at their shoes or navels, Leeds’ Eagulls are like a necessary breath of fresh air.

It makes for a focused, solid offering.

Atlas is full of seemingly effortless, ageless, guitar-driven songcraft.

Recorded in Reykjavík with Sigur Rós collaborator Alex Somers and Múm’s Samuli Kosminen, the frosty twinkles and skittery beats complement Rhode Island-based Thibadeau’s alt-folk leanings.

By befriending you and almost playing good cop bad cop, the vibrant grace of ‘Ra_Light’ and the global peak of ‘Near The End’ open an organic sense of nostalgia with an alert funkiness.

As always, Wild Beasts' songs are unusually intimate, and the electronic evolution of Present Tense captures their characteristically microscopic explorations of human interaction.

The devil’s in the detail, and it makes for a brilliant record.

Morning Phase is a return to the lovelorn introspection of 2002’s ‘Sea Change’--in style, if not substance.

It’s the sound of ‘60s experimentation smashed stunningly into the present day.

It meets its pre-release hype head on, and comes away the winner.

The debut album from London’s Cheatahs is an exercise in introspective, eclectic art-rock.

The result is a compelling exercise in growth.

Its delicacy and sentimentality may strike a cheesy note on first listen, but Post-Tropical is a definite grower.

It’s a fun record, and as adventurous as we’ve come to expect from Planningtorock.

Little Red should rightly see Katy B cement her ascent to the stratosphere, joining the rest of dance music’s glitterati.

The attraction of this LP is the thought that’s gone into it – every sound that you hear has been meticulously planned and recorded using, possibly, something that the Stasi might have once used.

While this fifth album contains icier, rather Fever Ray inspired electronic soundscapes, frontman Paul Smith’s eccentric tales of nocturnal sports and deceased poets are mostly backed by the angular pop production fans of this band have come to expect.

Young Fathers possess that which makes the best British acts truly special: a singular identity born of multinational mixology.

Essentially, this is a cheaper, condensed version of last year’s ‘Singles Collection’, a deluxe wooden box set that housed nine 7” singles and which contained all the singles from those two albums, in addition to the songs found here.

What could so nearly have been overbearing or desperate to be loved is, in actual fact, sincerely captivating and euphorically playful.

Rarely has an artist’s death been so vivid. R.I.P. Actress; your dystopian electronic visions have widened our nocturnal vision. We now await your reincarnation.

With its sharply defined highs and curiously odd misses, there’s more than enough here for dedicated fans to sift through, to extrapolate new shades of Springsteen from. For the rest of us, though, there isn’t quite enough to hold our attention.

Interestingly, the album itself isn't “too true”--rather, it’s just true enough.

Wallowing, dreary vocals are effectively juxtaposed with electronic twinkles on the likes of ‘You Are’. But other tracks, like ‘The 5%’, seem too chaotic and narrowly miss their targets, resulting in an album just falling short of top marks.

You can’t tell that Bella Union founder Simon Raymonde and Wisconsin-raised vocalist Stephanie Dosen didn’t even make it into the same room for this beautiful collaborative record as Snowbird, such are its dreamy, enlightening and angelic qualities.

Their demons finally overcome, Peggy Sue are now revelling in true resolute defiance.

A richly melodic, welcomingly melancholic debut.

It’s a triumphant comeback.

Despite being the result of creative restlessness, After The Disco never really takes us anywhere new. By playing it safe, however, Mercer and Burton have also made it pretty difficult for fans to feel disappointed by it.

Simple, unaffected songwriting with a direct emotional pull, Falling Faster Than You Can Run is swarming with undercurrents, with nuances that only become more marked over time.

There’s a vision and attention to detail here that’s led to an decidedly individual record that, like a new love, shares a little more with you whenever you spend some time together.

Ed’s voice is at its finest--effortless and addictive. It makes you want to listen to this gem all over again.

These 11 pieces are grand and ambitious.

While Jurado’s music has, on occasion, seemed a little slight, this is an endearingly ambitious, somewhat unexpected folk-rock triumph.

An apt step forward, Rave Tapes finds its makers matching grace and irreverence, noise and beauty with the don’t-give-a-f*ck bravado of people who can only know better.

The LA foursome’s second LP, Warpaint, is as devastatingly brooding as ever.

Beyoncé’ is one of the best damn albums of 2013, basically, however you’re looking at it: as an R&B record, a pop set, an electro collection. Whatever your tastes, you can’t question the quality here.

It’s not a bad record by any stretch, albeit one where the turgid does bump ugly against the terrific.

This is music that’s meticulous and expansive without ever falling into the trap of being boring or self-indulgent.

The sonic palette may be familiar, but the strength of songwriting indicates that September Girls might, just might, be capable of pushing past this.

One for the long drive ahead as you watch the white lines get consumed by the night.

Categorically not your ordinary Christmas album, and one to check out now if you missed it the first time.

Dear River is an interesting collection but, while pretty, these songs sometimes sound a little too slick or obvious.

The approach proves that there’s still relevance to be found in the commercial compilation. This is largely down to the third disc, titled ‘Meditation’, which serves as a compilation of entirely new material that sees Craig shift his focus from dancefloor fodder to some impressive ambient explorations.

Tracks still miss on occasions, and Glover writes with such self-awareness that the listener can regard him as a full-of-himself show-off, someone who believes he deserves musical success just because he’s achieved it in television.

Back To Land won’t immediately blow you away, but that warm, overdriven sound makes the latest LP from this San Francisco quartet another compelling one.

Far from an ill-advised sideways movement for its maker, from production to rhymes, Rap Album One finds a well-deserved home within Stones Throw’s prestigious catalogue.

This is strange, boutique folk-pop with a vitalised imagination--a rewarding listen, and then some.

The album is at its best when DeGraw’s chaotic textures give way to more structured declarations of despair.

While his distinctive voice and keening melodies are as enchanting as ever, Wilson has added a cinematic heft that neatly avoids being saccharine.

TOY get the balance exactly right here, perfectly mixing noise and melody.

Get some eggnog inside you and give this enduring pair a little respect.

Deranged and balefully bleak.

Despite lending his rich, soulful vocals to an eclectic collection of tracks, including versions of songs originally by Coldplay and Wye Oak, the streamlined, country-tinged production waters the songs down.

Whilst previous albums were energetic and exuberant in scope, Eve largely lacks the duo’s trademark vigour and moments of originality.

While these are only flashes, they help make Corsicana Lemonade a progressive exercise in restraint.

Another impressive feather in one of the most versatile caps in Parisian pop music.

Perhaps less instantly gratifying than the shimmering ‘Zonoscope’, Free Your Mind is nevertheless a great time that provides additional rewards for those willing to disentangle its layered arrangements.

After the delicate beauty of previous albums, this is the sound of an artist unleashed.

B-Room is offensively inoffensive.

Woolford fends off critics of unoriginality by contributing to/completing bass music’s circle of life. Good tidings of Thunder and Joy.

On Shangri La he has captured everything cleanly and sparsely to really let Jake’s storytelling shine. The resulting exposure makes for a mature and remarkable album.

A nice refresher, if a little unnecessary.

With 37 previously unreleased performances, On Air Volume 2 is essential for any Beatles collector. For everyone else, it’s an informal insight into the world’s greatest group on the verge of an exhilarating ascent.

Some decent-enough songs on an overly long album mostly containing sub-par tracks from an artist capable of much more.

Not a great pop album, then, but certainly the product of a great pop star.

The strengths of My Name Is My Name vastly outweigh its minor faults, and Pusha’s studio debut finds itself easily nestled into the year’s top five rap releases.

Although weaker tracks are covered up by pristine studio trickery, No Blues is consistently infectious and edges the band closer to mainstream territory.

Antiphon is going to divide opinion, but give it a chance--it might just be the best thing they’ve ever done.

M.I.A.’s most consistent work since her debut. ... Yes, her myriad ideas are still tumultuous, but there’s precious few other musicians out there attempting such an ambitious and impassioned collage of words, rhythms and concepts.

Richly textured and finely detailed, Invisible In Your City goes moreishly deep.

Black Radio 2 is a good, albeit safe recording.

The Betas were a formidable live band, and the radio session tracks here are as good as, and sometimes better than, their studio counterparts. There’s little in the way of actual rarities, though.

Some may find something deep and spiritual amongst the cuts on Outside, but it just makes this reviewer want to stay indoors.

It’s precisely this collection’s dry, detached, robotic angles that appeal.

What the album lacks in genuine surprises--it features fewer floor-filling basslines than its makers’ previous LP ‘proper’, 2010’s dance-designed ‘We Were Exploding Anyway’--it more than makes up for in comprehensive consistency.

A fine sound indeed, but one that could have been better with a shade more variety injected into proceedings.

Drone Logic has peaks that dwarf its troughs, though, making Avery’s brave debut worth buying for its four best tracks alone.

Taking pleasure in the observations of daily life, ‘ilp’ comes bathed in highly saturated colours and rich textures.

This is written by someone who’s a kid right now, about what it is to be young right now. Consequently, this isn’t a “you” and “I” album. It’s a “we”, “us” and “them” album.

Most bands master a sound, but there’s the distinct feeling here that TOTS are merely vessels for a force operating somewhere beyond our comprehension of what can, and does, qualify as pop music.

A daringly deconstructed soundtrack of the spheres.

Repent Replenish Repeat is their most mixed work to date.

Although Lousy With Sylvianbriar lacks the violent eclecticism of their 2007 classic ‘Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?’, it’s a genre-morphing triumph that reveals new surprises with each listen.

This range of styles on New could have been distracting if not for the material’s solid foundations, spontaneous energy, and frequent naked emotions.

This set is teeming with energy despite its down moments, and demands to be played again in its entirety as soon as it ends.

It’s a declaration that cocktail hour is officially over, having also ditched any collaborations for this knotted beat scene bow, while still able to rise up in glory like sun pouring through a stained glass window (‘Tiptoes’) and sport the luminosity of a screwball gent just when you think the batteries are fading.

Interiors is an expansive, fiercely intelligent investigative work.

All dark atmospherics and empty space, Jaar’s spectral production for collaborative project Darkside creates the void where rhythm, and seemingly time, are allowed to infinitely float on.

A far darker piece than her debut album, this is a downbeat yet profoundly affecting second act.

Sleigh Bells might have got a little softer on us, but they haven’t lost their charm.

As his flow goes off at a regular double time that his chart-scaling peers can only dislocate their jaws for, Dizzee’s personality shrinks into a tediously shallow pool of female ogling, obeying your thirst and his latest holiday snaps.

It’s clear Danny is dealing with some demons, but his issues don’t dampen the mood.

‘It’s Never Over’ is this band’s best TV On The Radio impression, and ‘Porno’ almost goes G-funk: a pleasant surprise. But undercooked electronics, impotent rhetoric, too-familiar crescendo-ing structures and an overall feeling that this needs further post-production attention render Reflektor an entirely substandard album.

Bonkers in parts it may be, but Take Me proves hugely enjoyable.

As a whole, Breaks & Bone is a little samey, but as a showcase of one of Glasgow’s finest musicians, it’s a gem.

There’s no denying the worth of the latter sort, but the electrifying nature of the first cut comes as a bit of a tease, setting you up for a (albeit nicely ambient) fall.