Consistently surprising, fanciful and varied, each genre flip, from pop, dub and hip-hop to rap is traversed with ease.

Unapologetic, progressive and complex, it's adventurous, indulgent post jazz, brimming with spirit. Absolutely exhilarating.

The second album from this mysterious French/Finnish indie-folk duo is every bit as eclectic and unexpected as the first.

The pace is infectious and small helpings will sweeten your day.

If... is dominated by widescreen cinematic soundscapes and fabulously evocative arrangements.

The self-confessed non-DJ plays stylishly to the dancefloor's edge, flirting a little with the background before headline interjections from Bok Bok, Untold and 2562 yank you back to centre square.

A contemporary-pop triumph.

It's not always pleasant, but in a funny way, it's quite compelling.

Meh. It's alright, but I'm like... I'm like a bit bored, actually.

It's nice to start off with but swiftly becoming a tad wet and ultimately a touch cloying.

She's brilliant, sometimes inspired, and this tenth studio album finds her gifts undiminished.

Moments of the Jacknife Lee-produced album are assured--Gary Lightbody over-emotes particularly well on the maudlin "Life-ning" and "The Symphony" is rightfully pompous--but the uneasy truth is that Snow Patrol are merely background dinner party music for accountants.

It's not truly terrible, but it does feel akin to a musical version of King Kong Vs. Godzilla, two monsters decimating everything in their path until there's nothing left, except the back catalogues.

There's still not enough testosterone on display for it to count as one of their very best, but it's not half bad.

The best moments remain the songs where the band moves as a unit, conjuring a sense of hope and elation, rather than falling back on tired, shouty punk cliches.

Glorious singalong hooks and unashamed sass dominate the debut offering from indie writer Elizabeth Sankey and indie cult-hero Jeremy Warmsley.

Building shifting ambient electronic compositions, there's no easy way into his world and Replica is a brooding testament to patience and investment.

After the impulsive creativity of Logos, Parallax, by contrast, is a much more refined listen.

The beautiful performances captured here, touching on all five studio albums, are more than enough of a reason to seek this out.

A pothead's dream and a supremely-crafted set.

Although this is his first foray proper into the medium of electronic music, it's a masterful accomplishment.

It has bassline crunch, and a very distinctive space-age exterior; so why does The Vision sound like it's playing catch up?

The only real criticism of Ceremonials is that this album is completely, relentlessly, Florence. Her fans will lap it up, while those who aren't keen on her will probably remain unconvinced.

Sounding fifty years out of time and traversing genres without concern, it is unlike anything else you will hear this summer. And you really must hear it.

Coldplay's electronic excursions may be more cerebral and less embroiled than those of Thom Yorke's continued influence on Radiohead, but their progress is to be applauded, for this is an excellent album with depths unexplainable within this word count.

Musically stripped to the basics, the set is engaging with an infectious charm, neatly adding to that capacious back catalogue.

Consistent ruggedness, the sort that brings wicked grins of appreciation, shows a toughening up for new employers.

Take both albums as separate entities and you'll be fine, and if alienation is the upshot, what a way to go about it.