YU is a swagger drenched, masterful treatise from a woman with a new perspective, new weapons, and the confidence to use them.

What ultimately makes Stuff Like That There such an appealing record is the obvious delight in performing these songs.

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.

Some of the record suffers from being a little noodley--‘Shadows’ being the only standout example--but this can be forgiven both in the face of the scale of the task at hand and the otherwise great aplomb with which it’s been tackled.

The disorientating utopian ride you take when listening to this album in full will no doubt bring you glee, and maybe some weird dreams if you think about being a prawn too much.

Not terribly experimental then, nor especially genre-hopping, but let's not be sniffy; it's a very likeable cosmic pop record.

Hardly essential, then, but Unplugged is a fans-pleasing release that serves as a reminder that songs with great longevity needn’t always be played loudly.

Pale Blue Eyes have clearly worked their socks off, and to produce something that carries integrity in putting to music the nature of reminiscence, all the while working tirelessly to fund it, is commendable. ‘Souvenirs’ is a visceral release of material that bookends the band’s formative chapter, and ushers in the next.

Its deliberate rough edges give the album an intimate and resonant glimpse into Mackenzie-Barrow’s solo vision, and in trusting first takes and fragile moments, he reveals a voice that is not retreating from the noise but refining itself within it.

It's all very "nice" but only sporadically truly vital.

On balance it's still a more than worthy addition to the New Jersey outfit's growing collection.

It's more a relic of the past than a record of the future.

What Clipping have done on ‘There Existed An Addiction To Blood’ is show that hip-hop doesn’t need to keep to convention to be gripping and visceral; refusing to be placed in stasis for the sake of chart success, the group deserve all the plaudits that will come their way.

Amongst the army of incredible contributors, all unified by melancholic production drawn from the ether of another age, David Lynch's star shimmers brightest.

Mixing baroque instrumentation with choral elements, Blumberg adopts an already accomplished and familiar formula--but it’s one that, through his subtle twists, still manages to feel intimate and fresh.

Eagle’s skill is in being relatable to the listener, approaching issues that could otherwise be interpreted as controversial with a soft-spoken and melodic flow that never comes off as preachy or aggressive.

It’s a record that’s brimming with potential but which still has tonnes of room leftover for further improvement, which is exactly what the first entry in any band’s budding discography should be like.

Seven deeply moving songs teetering deliciously on the brink of collapse. It was a long time in the making, but now, at the age of 27, Minus feels alarmingly close to the album Blumberg was always supposed to write.

The first four tracks and ‘Take It Back’ are some of his strongest so far. It’s a gratifying epilogue to last year’s effort. He’s clearly sitting on a lot of good stuff, which we’ll have to hear soon.

With its intricate production, mesmerising melodies, dynamism and scope, ‘Honey’ is no doubt a stellar addition to Caribou’s catalogue.

Death III is the last of the group’s unreleased masters, a dusty odds-and-ends collection of songs from the ‘70s, 1980 and 1992 that’s full of drifting guitar melodies and psychedelic funk.

Like a lot of compilation albums, C-ORE struggles with coherence, but still makes for a tantalising selection box and entry point to the DMG project.

‘Only For Dolphins’ is the sound of free-flowing sonic travel, and it’s depiction of Action Bronson in full flight underlines the conception that this is an MC who is back to his peak.

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

Asymmetrical and pitched up and down at any given moment, Miscontinuum is an unwavering data stream whose moments of relative clarity still press on your temples like a tightening vice.

Enthusiasts will salivate over another uncovering of tainted treasure.

Booming walls of sound are favoured at the expense of nuance, leaving Belong too regularly thirsting for a banner hit, and ultimately, offering a perfect example of why bigger isn’t always better.

It is impossible to deny the craftsmanship with which the trio have sculpted the opening salvo of 'This Is It' and 'Loveless'. ... Sadly his talent for building epic, emotive crescendos does not overshadow his shortcomings as a lyricist.