The amount of moments of contemplation away from the mosh pit benefits the listenability of the album, though its overall sequencing is blotchy and still more like a mixtape.

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

Mogwai have come a long way since ‘Angels vs. Aliens’ in 1996. Gone are the walls of raging guitar and searing feedback. In its place is understated quiet and contemplation. This underpins KIN and really adds a grandiose dollop cinematic majesty.

A body of work dotted with pop anthems tied together by poetic, angsty lyricism.

If you are looking for a deliciously dark soundtrack of horror and funk, then ‘Danse Macabre’ should be on your Halloween playlist. The big question is – is ‘Danse Macabre’ for life or just for Halloween? Either way, for the majority of Duran Duran’s sixteenth studio album, in true Halloween style, it will be love at first bite!

Though Emerging Adulthood does push Croll far out of his personal comfort zone to a certain extent, it does feel like he could go further with the complexity. Nevertheless his musicianship is undeniable, as each and every instrument on the record is played by himself.

In taking this stripped-back approach, recognisable across the majority of the record, ZAYN lets his audience in more than ever before.

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

Sure, it’s not as good as ‘Turn On The Bright Lights’, but c’mon, it was never going to be. But as an exercise in getting back to where you once belonged, El Pintor is highly successful.

Lennox updates that balance struck between squelchy abstraction and clarity, which is--in the main--an immersive experience.

Although largely a strong body of work, the album’s borderline moments of geniune greatness--'Hate On', 'Dark Ear' and 'Mr. Mistake', the latter of which is surely the most sonically soothing track to reference a nuclear winter--aren’t replicated with any real consistency.

Always interesting, and with a deft use of traditional instrumentation alongside studio trickery, Fanfarlo have created another nugget of joy.

It’s a project that requires time to sit and grow with its listener, carving a new path after each and every run.

While at times lyrics can feel uninspired, and there is far less space-rock at play than previous ventures, there’s no denying that the tracks on offer are sharp and hard-hitting. A very solid release, and proof of why Muse are still held to such high acclaim nine albums on.

Jinx isn’t really a narrative anyway, more a fine assemblage in which a slightly eldritch weirdness is balanced with pop nous. It certainly feels like Crumb are on the cusp of something here.

The band’s expertly realized fusion of organic and electronic instruments remains, bolstered by their extensive tour diary that’s also seen them open for Underworld.

An endearing, and wholesome end for an album so wonderfully content it it’s own bubble.

Underworld refuse to heed their own advice, and the subtle juxtaposition of light and dark elevate Barbara from a decent listen to an enthralling one.

The album’s 14-tracks takes the listener on a mystical journey of hope, realism, racism and, eventually, the bright stars above. Unfortunately, with every shot of adrenaline and excitement that comes through tracks such as 'Obrigado', 'Mirrors' (featuring SnoH Aalegra and Cam O’bi) and 'Skip To My Lou', there are other that slam on the brakes just as forcefully, just as momentum and energy were building.

It’s best described as an album for escape- to leave the world behind, and encompass yourself completely in the emotive contemplation it offers.

Virtually every track stands alone fine. But listened to as an album, it's repetitive and numbing.

Littered with hyper-stimulants and the minutiae chaos of modern living, and where Ernest Greene, purveyor of faded daytime psychedelia, once spoke to romantic stasis from his internal landscape of unseen tropics, his diverting third effort sees him taking a heavy blow from reality.

DOOM, sparing on the mic, rustles up his usual funk finds with samples sprayed willy-nilly. Teenage sensation Bishop Nehru slots in; assuredly, naturally skilful, with the right amount of NYC, street cypher confidence putting up an all-rounder’s game.

With most of the numbers coming at you like a Doc Marten to the face, a change in tempo is appreciated on the appropriately named ‘Slow Burn,’ a wonky gothic riff adding some atmosphere before the inevitable loud chorus.

Each song presents itself as a story-in-miniature; a perfectly crafted beginning, middle, end (albeit sometimes the artistry of the track makes the listening experience more middle, end, beginning).

A credible effort though, with enough promise to merit an investment of anticipation.

The sound is typically dense but never overwrought with a wide sweep of styles and textures, The Orb being past masters at moulding a huge pool of raw material into a cohesive, listenable whole.

This latest offering is a finessed folk-rock record to bring a little taste of long summer evening drives to the glacial January gloom.