II is an absolute masterpiece of dancefloor work.

Serene yet disturbed, this is album that progresses the band well.

Chugging and thunderous, Stefanski’s debut set as Raffertie is self-assured: an expertly stitched quilt of textures.

This is an auspicious start, but it too often seems that Samaris lack the inherent ability to fully realise their ambitions.

Shades of light and dark ripple throughout and keep the listener guessing.

This one will grow and reward with every new listen, as you get to know the troubled character behind the barbed words.

This is the music of ritual, an electronic folk chimera of primordial pagan beats, ancient and timeless yet psychedelically futurist.

There is a definite whiny, punky recklessness to Any Port In A Storm, a feeling of intentional roughness and rawness mixed with genuine musical chops and strained emotional frankness.

With many tipping these Birmingham indie sorts for success, a debut album as accomplished and hit-laden as this makes it hard to see the band faltering.

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.

Musically scattergun, with vintage rock ‘n’ roll rubbing shoulders with post-rock sounds, there’s much to admire about this bold artistic statement.

It is what it is: a passionate, purposeful and wonderfully presented collection of combustive rock songs.

Reid’s soundtrack is vibrant, but it can’t save the album from its own tedium.

More tightly structured and confident than 2011’s ‘Crazy Clown Time in terms of narrative, there’s further clarity in the unmistakable voice, which though heavily filtered feels much closer to his own.

Easy on the ear it isn’t, but Slow Focus carves its name into the synapses nonetheless, like some sort of unstoppable, power-electronics ‘In Utero’.

Interjected with dusty dubplate samples, gun-finger shots and clashing MCs throughout, what Jungle Revolution lacks in variation it makes up with genuine spirit.

There is a deep sadness to every song here, Shah’s first studio set one that will either make you sink into a shadowy pool of darkness, or allow you to reflect upon your own sorrows in a melancholy reverie.

Each ["sides" of the double LP] is so good, it’s a toss up between which incarnation you'll end up liking most.

There is melody here, clear structure. The Blackest Beautiful is a pop record, of a kind. The kind that eats the other albums racked next to it.

They’re reborn, revitalised, and really rather good.

Cerulean Salt isn’t boundary breaking, but it possesses qualities enough to leave one charmed, if not consistently captivated.

10 tracks of soul-bearing introspection swathed in layers of rich reverb, icy chill and ephemeral echoes of 30 years of synth pop.

Running to an hour long, Magna Carta becomes exhausting, bumping familiar motifs with such frequency that, as the album nears its close, the senses feel entirely numbed.

House music’s fire will never go out. And this pack of rhythmic aces can only help fan its hypnotic flames.

What results is an impressive set of dark dance music that plays equally well at closing time or through your headphones at night.

These 10 tracks comprise a head-and-shoulders-above collection that immediately imprints itself as one of the best hip-hop records of 2013 so far.

If you stand back and appreciate the whole, like a Monet, you will be delighted and intrigued.

While not overly original, this album more than compensates for compositional complacency with its energetic delivery.