Fade finds YLT at their most wistfully contemplative; a thought only softened by the paradox that this might just be one of their best yet.

A beautiful diversion then, rather than an eye-opening reboot or soul-stirring call to arms.

PJ Geissinger boosts his refinement, despite not being a slave to technicality, with no surrendering of dancefloor rawness.

The music on 'Wax And Glue' shows potential, but the overall idea of the record is just too cluttered.

At times the effects are superb.... However, there are wobbles with the quality control.

Grace/Confusion sees Hawk get back on track, by remembering what worked in the first place.

The spaces in-between are almost as important as the notes themselves on a headphone album with which to brave the winter.

An exhausting and thoroughly absorbing set.... It is a record that everybody should own. Meticulous, majestic, momentous.

Cells brings a sense of immediacy and creativity to a genre long neglected by the mainstream dubstep epidemic.

Whilst openly influenced by the past, an album that bears the capacity to pioneer into the future--eloquent and elegant.

It may be a tried and tested formula but inspiration as beautifully realised as this is hard to ignore.

One wonders if the venture should have reached out to the band's full catalogue, but it remains an adventurous extension for those who hold them dear.

A very welcome return.

Hypno-grooving at its best.

This is music that stretches from the decaying rain-lashed estates of their home to the stars.

It's a shame, then, that these creations occasionally meander into somewhat monotonous territories.

What first seems impenetrable and maybe even pretentious reveals itself to be a rich and detailed tapestry, full of colour and emotion.

Hard to fault but not the progress we hoped for.

There's nothing here to write home about but it should make a nice stocking filler for Mum.

A step forward in terms of production and vision, but no doubt at quite a personal cost to Lukid.

Representing the sum of all the label's split personalities--including the rousing microhouse of closer 'Good Times'--it should be listened to more as a celebratory catalogue than a seamless concept LP; a worthy precursor to next year's 'Twenty Years Of...'

Broadly eclectic throughout, it's a buoyant return.

With lyrics that can make you laugh out loud and beats that reach the feet, Barnes has managed a careful balance between sheer absurdity and moments of genius.

While every track on The Haunted Man is brimming with invention, there's little to keep you coming back for repeat listens.

With a distinctive sound that's certain to have mass appeal, this teen troubadour is set to smash it.

The only problem here is that the genre is taken to the extreme, and can blend together to the point where the album seems like one massive track.

A relationship breakdown between the band's two founders, singer Nona Marie Invie and producer Marshall LaCount, is laid bare, but with dramatic and beautiful consequences.

It's charming in every way, but still rooted in the pop folk that brought Beth to us in the first place.

It's a masterpiece.

The absence of any high-profile pop vocal collaborations--save for Snoop Dogg on 'I'll House You', which playfully (and successfully) pays tribute to house music circa Dance Energy--and greater focus on the French house and techno that formed him, present Boys Noize at his most venerably accomplished.

Overall it's a big nostalgic slice of deliciously moreish hip-hop pie.

Typically rich, but this time, a playful outing.

A quirky best-of entertaining the inner child with tongue-in-cheek lyrics and psychedelic funky pop.

As polished as a beach stone, it's a subtle, startling work.

It's very much a 'if it ain't broke' album and, for now, that's okay.

A quietly seductive album that's atmospheric, sometimes melancholic, but often beautiful.

HWTD has dug himself a neat, little songbird alcove and it's one only he can reach.

A brilliant and intoxicating record.

Shields is an engrossing, beautiful work which could only come from Grizzly Bear, and only at this point in their career.

There's certainly a harder edge to the sound, yet the songwriting is the key, with a set of tunes commercial enough to sucker you in, yet complex enough to maintain interest.

The stabilisers are off for global fusion; the first ride could have been a lot worse.

A strong, self-assured debut offering, 'TOY' represents a band who are capable of channelling multiple identities without losing sight of their own.

A peculiar but pitch perfect partnership.

The familiar sparse, shrugging guitar touches return, sounding no less beguiling than they did three years ago, but the craft has improved. Where 'xx' traded on a certain naïve charm, 'Coexist' is a meticulously controlled aural environment.

This sophomore release is a brave and stunning progression that now solidifies the statement that this group can grow past 2011 without going stale.

Centepede Hz is somehow both futuristically innovative and welcomingly accessible. Amid the obscurantism caused by white noise and radio interference are strong choruses likely to get any form of life dancing.

'Algiers' is a Calexico album unlike any other. More forceful, immediate and polished, whilst still possessing the bewitching musical interplays of old.

A bit of editing and self-control, and this could have been one of the albums of the year.

Rebirth is completely captivating.

Overall it's a robust, respectable detour but will leave some fans pining for the smoky chanteuse of old.

Everyone involved on this slab of hertz has brought far too much to the table over the years to dismiss this and the record really works.

Plunge through this piece of technical mastery and don't forget to take your shoes off.

This combination of sounds and personalities diagnoses the band and album number four with bi-polar disorder. Let's pray they never recover.

It's a bold and stark opus worthy of attention, if your attention span is long enough.

While this may not be as perfectly realised as "Black City," it's still a beautiful, complex, weird and bold album.

It's unfathomably exciting stuff.

It's a strong and accomplished debut, and Jessie Ware has provided the missing link between SBTRKT and Sade. Whether you think that's a good thing is your call.

Melodies that burrow under your skin and up-to-the-minute production make Tracer a record to savour.

[Fragrant World] is a further evolution of the band's interests in Eighties electro and contemporary R&B.

Undeniably there's little here that will surprise fans, but there is certainly plenty to be enchanted by.

They're still settling in at the start line, prescribing rose-tinted glasses that could very well divide listeners.

Regional Surrealism is an antidote to a busy life, and the arresting portal into a strange man's mind.

The withdrawals into ambient cusps test something of a pleasure-pain theory, and to Shed's credit the bombshells rarely follow the same pattern - a four-by-four here, a hop and skip there, seeing him scooping up arenas with a tremendously powerful iron fist.

Raw Money Raps is an exciting audible adventure into progressive hip-hop.

At times grainy and abrasive it's also mischievous, melodic and, ultimately, absolutely adorable.

Guaranteed to make you cry sugar-coated tears or vomit Care Bears depending on your tastes.

It's a captivating mix of material, yet hangs together well and has a surprisingly easy flow.

It makes for a stark--often chilling, often exhilarating--collection of music that spans the genre(s), from the well-known to the esoteric, the accessible to the impenetrable.

Armed with some equally intriguing sleeve notes, This Ain't Chicago is more than just a collection; it's a journey.

Channel Orange demands to be listened to in a single sitting.

It's an album in the true sense, each song a building block on an overall journey.

The Canadian boy-girl duo's debut is a whirl of delicate dream pop.

What could be an unholy mess is held together by tight production, hypnotic grooves and some undeniably catchy tunes.

An honorable effort in what they do best.

While it might not possess the anodyne lyrics of generic chart mush, the similarities are disturbingly discernible. Thankfully, such moments are in the minority.

By releasing a debut with such honesty at its core Lianne will find a nation falling in love with her.

Pure pop is an unforgiving master and a slight dip in quality results in the flaccid 'Patient' sounding like a blighted Go West off-cut. Fitfully good.

Both essential and influential, get these tracks loaded into your spastic dance moves.

Enthusiasts will salivate over another uncovering of tainted treasure.

Congreave, has selected with more ambition than his curatorial Tapes predecessors.

Surprising and satisfying, we'll even try to forgive the spoken word interlude.

These twelve abstract and minimal tracks rather act as perfect soundscapes to accompany your dreams and introspections.

A dazzling mix of shoegaze, lo-fi psychedelia and fuzzy, mid-period Sonic Youth.

Arrowing down to depths that the naked ear cannot make out, Phon.O can lift you.

Playful and emotional if a touch polite, it's marked by moments of genuine greatness.

This record sounds like every catchy guitar song you've ever heard.

Remastered and supplemented it has received a contemporary injection and doesn't feel out of place in today's scene with that Mould influence shining through.

Lorn builds winning improvements on an already victorious formula of boom-bap nightmares gone crypt walking.

A peerless left-field masterpiece.

With both music and curation straying into increasingly beguiling territories The Lost Tapes is as delightful as it is overwhelming.

An intense, heady listen nudging the continuum that little bit further.

With a voice that creaks like well-loved furniture and lyrics telling tales of the lives and losses of others, this album represents a career highpoint.

This LP has a distinct retro feel to it, with elements of blues, psychedelia and an earthiness that results in the band's best album of the year so far.

Unfortunately, other than aiding nostalgia, there's not much else nice to say about The National Health.

["Night and Day" and "Flutes"] are glimmers of liveliness on an otherwise decedent record.

This is pretty simple club music solely about the 'now' of dancing. And that can only be a good thing.

An album that's completely beguiling.

This is a clear transition from her work with brother Angus, allowing her individual expression, resulting in a work of true depth and emotion.