There's a clearly dynamism between the couple, resulting in a unified performance and all that lets them down is a weakness in some of the songs, where a greater commercial edge might have initiated more interest. Sophisticated Steel City pop.

CYHSY have created an album that is both jubilant and disarmingly vulnerable.

By stripping back the layers of overbearing electronic production of the past, they've recorded an album of lush and elegant pop music, beguiling and gloriously cinematic.

A fabulous album, confirming St. Vincent's status as a deeply talented artist.

A quiet, understated triumph.

Marling has transcended the nu-folk movement and carved her own magnificent identity.

There's nothing here for the existing fan base but enough to entice new arrivals and strong enough to furnish a fresh interest from them.

Sadly there are too many beats and samples that it can be hard to keep up with the ferocious pace, despite the obvious talent and flashes of genius on this record.

Some may have written them off already, but on the strength of their best album in a decade, I'm with them.

Everyone loves to reminisce, and we're suckers for well-crafted songs, but we also need to be challenged a little more than this boys.

It's not a difficult or aloof album, but there is a cool precision that feels different to the choppy punkiness of old.

Occasionally the momentum wanes, but only the cold-hearted could fail to forgive the odd misstep from a band taking risks, shaping their sound and refusing to stand still.

Fans looking for a haphazard exercise in DIY should revisit the band's earlier effort, but will nonetheless be greatly rewarded by this deftly crafted slacker opus.

The result is an album of intimacy, introspection and incredible beauty; a communion with the sands.

That this is both Beirut's deepest and most instantly enjoyable album is obvious.

Often it feels more like an overly conscious art project rather than an album that will sustain repeated listening; it's undeniably, admirably beautiful in parts, but ultimately too consciously cerebral and self satisfied to love.

Malkmus' third (or fourth depending on which folklore you believe) outing with The Jicks, is a disappointing collection of hits and misses--with the latter winning on points.

Music and performer as one, it's hard to know where I Break Horses begin and their walls of sound end. Vocalist and Swedish nephilim Maria Lindén is a calming apparition, yet indeterminate when overpowered by the huge celestial sheets of Fredrik Balck's new wave order.

The result is a joyous and soulful collection of summery pop songs and urgent sun-drenched ditties that grow with you over time.

A mixed bag that's perhaps polluted with Toddla's inevitable fame and fortune.

Sure, the combination of digital bleepage and raaawk! is nothing new, but few electronic bands have rocked quite so hard as these guys do.

For this, Fruit Bats' fifth outing, the Chicagoan took inspiration from a decade-old train ride.

It's classic Americana rock at its best, combining musical echoes of Springsteen and Dylan but crafted with a poet's eye for detail. Dreamy, infectious, and full of hope. A powerful antidote to all those who say the best days of American classic rock are well over.

Most of Welcome Reality is so in your face and predictable it feels like the musical equivalent of a Michael Bay movie: loud, crass, periodically fun, but ultimately forgettable.

Although just seven songs long, the third album from San Francisco psychedelic rockers Wooden Shjips is a remarkably dense, intense affair.

Everything here is gorgeously sung and this woozy, gently uplifting collection of songs is pretty close to perfect.

The songs are trite punk workouts without any real imagination and, whilst there's a reasonable amount of endeavour and vigour, they're unlikely to raise anything other than idle curiosity amongst the curious idle.

Azari and III are good clean honest fun, but not the future of music.