In fairness, we have heard the duelling solos, galloping Guitar riffs and Dickinson’s operatic Rock vocals all before, in that sense there’s nothing particularly new in form of style (but that’s no bad omen). Upon The Book of Souls the band do, however, sound tighter than ever, offering a raw atmosphere that makes the album sound as though it was almost written in order to be played live.

The band's strengths are here in abundance, but they are reimagined, twisted into new shapes and given a visceral intensity that is utterly irresistible.

Artistic development and risk-taking is to be applauded. With risk, though, comes the possibility of mis-steps. Sadly, here, this is what it feels like Tamaryn's done.

No, No, No is as sweet but as filling as an after dinner mint, and sadly it's probably dinner this album should accompany.

What saves the record from being a lacklustre, sotto-voiced tribute act is that, strikingly, Briana herself is a cookie-cutter Northwest coast hippie.

It's easy listening, while thankfully having nothing whatsoever to do with the much-maligned genre of the same name--and the sort of fascinatingly layered album that appears demanding and austere from the outset but is in fact home to a set of beautifully realised songs.

Impressively it's under a year after they signed to Heavenly and they've already released this very honest, charming slice of garage-pop

Unlike their first three albums, What Went Down arrives without any obvious standout singles and is a far cry from Foals' early energetic indie sound. On the other hand, it's impossible to deny that the overall album is a hugely accomplished effort from one of Britain's best surviving bands.

This sense of rejuvenation is somewhat stunted by the inclusion of some Fratellis standards. The results range from the exhilarating 'Baby Don't You Lie To Me!' to the tediously dull plod of 'Rosanna'.

The only reasonable offering on 'How Does It Feel' is the multi-layered and kaleidoscopic lead single, 'Painted'. Elsewhere, it's the kind of standard by-the-numbers electro-pop that's likely to soundtrack your next visit to the local department store.

Admittedly it’s hardly a new approach of lyricism, but when something classic is done well it’s hard to discredit.

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

Despite the pristine production and supercharged atmosphere, this feels like his most personal set and where the music falls into more predictable territory, it's kept buoyant by Hammond's emotional warmth and his wistful, contemplative lyrics.

Lianne La Havas has grown up, branched out, written some devastatingly honest songs, and presented a highly competent album.

Sweet Baboo’s gloriously eccentric back catalogue has nevertheless often hinted at the capacity to deliver a truly special record: a glorious, emphatic collection of songs showcasing his truly affecting vocal and knack for ridiculously insistent hooks. No further hints are required for, with The Boombox Ballads, Black has got there.

Fifth effort Depression Cherry is no different, and whilst haters could accuse the duo of being a one trick pony, you must ask yourself if you truly care when the pony is so damn gorgeous.

What it lacks in ambition, it more than makes up for in songwriting.

Despite the overarching quality of the album, its continual, dirge-like range of instrumentation can become a little stifling and songs risk blending into one another.

It may spend a lot of its time reflecting on the past. But as an argument for that now famous district in South Los Angeles and its continued importance and centrality to hip-hop, it’s forceful and convincing, and one that ensures those Hollywood-style ‘COMPTON’ letters will continue to loom large--not just over L.A., but over this genre as a whole.

Overall The Secret History (Volume 1) is a well constructed and complete portrait of an early Pavement, but with the release's main audience being the avid fan (and with all these tracks available on 2002's 'Luxe and Redux' reissue of 'Slanted...') this leaves only the mad and the keen with a turntable who'll truly want it.

The battle between melody and noise at the heart of 'DEATH MAGIC' is a fascinating one, and the twelve songs on which it plays out are damn near bulletproof. Welcome to the most terrifying pop album of 2015.

Dornik has come out of leftfield to release one of the best quality and most addictive pop records of recent times.

In choosing to move down a more percussive path, the Phoenix Foundation set themselves a challenge quite different than those they had previously faced. 80-minute double albums are usually tough to follow, but they've chosen to reconnect with the spirit of the band rather than try to top 'Fandango' in a self-conscious manner, and in doing so have redefined themselves.

The album's ear-catching finish endorses Golden Ticket as a rewardingly receptive, slightly slippery customer to the death.

Where once the band may have occasionally caught your ear, these songs command attention throughout.

It's glittering and electronic, its lyrics and title inspired by Owain Owain's dystopian science fiction novel, and its melodies underpinned with discordant notes and bric-à-brac sonic oddities--but it shares a similarly subversive edge to that record.

These are gloriously creative songs.

It's palpable that the tracks are more at home on the stage, where you can feel the frenetic energy of the record itself, Georgia's boisterous on-stage persona coming through in abundance. On record, sometimes that energy gets lost in a noisy ether, her identity chopped and screwed into fragments.