With its restructured band lineup and multiple producers/locations, Fading Trails is unavoidably a somewhat dispirited and disjointed affair.

[Its] strongest songs more than compensate for the few lapses in songwriting found elsewhere.

Nightcrawler stretches Yorn’s limits as an artist and crosses the line in a few places.

It's unconvincing and bland.

It never really builds steam until the end, when it is almost too late.

Whereas his previous long-players were primarily personified by their hushed beauty, dusty experimentation, and nostalgic romanticism, Post-War pushes forward a more boisterous and band-orientated vision for Ward’s sturdy songwriting.

An album that sounds both familiar and fresh and entirely entertaining.

Essentially one long postcard from the very edge of loneliness and sorrow.

Yeah, they're good at what they do, but what they do is just not that palatable.

Noir... writes some really genuine, cheery, memorable songs, but it’s just too much to digest on one record.

It's apparent that great care was taken in the making of this record as the meticulous production radiates through the music on every song.

While many electronic acts are trying their hand at folkier compositions and attempting to squeeze warmth from the digital realm, The Knife's Silent Shout opts for ice-cold distance. The record suffers nothing for it, instead coming out monolithic and beautiful.

So while the subdued vocal harmonies and acoustic folk influences of 70s pop bands Chicago and America can be heard, there is enough intricately layered dream-pop floating around the fleshed-out orchestrations to keep indie-rock fans contented.

Melodic post-punk rarely sounds as beautiful, exciting, or emotionally connected as it does on Two Thousand.

Cansei de Ser Sexy is just so acutely gaudy and trashy that, despite an abundance of spunk and sneer, it comes off as disaffected and impossibly irritating.

Happy New Year's only flaw is that the second half drifts a bit.

Ultimately, The Avalanche lacks the lasting impact of Illinois, as its songs don’t quite hold the same sense of gravitas, economy, and focus.

The album doesn't make the point that Yorke doesn't need his bandmates to make a great record so much as it helps shed light on what each member of the band contributes to the overall equation.

Its warmth, honesty and intuitive sensitivity capture Stuart Staples firmly back to the dizzy high-quality heights of his cherishable early-career with the Tindersticks.

Guster finally feels like a full band and not some cutesy sideshow act.

The unashamedly wilful reductionism of Brightblack Morning Light will either engross or alienate listeners, depending wholly on instinctive preferences.

Mo’ Mega starts off strong... But from [the middle] on out the songs lose focus.

It’s obvious Adamson possesses some serious musical vision, but Stranger on the Sofa takes so many musical missteps and is so laughable lyrically, I have trouble recommending it.

If each track is taken on its own merits, it's apparent that these girls have real talent and there is some creative indie rock here.

I admire the band's unorthodox approach to its music and its combination of disparate rock and non-rock elements.... That said, I will probably never be able to listen to this entire album in a single sitting.

Where Asobi Seksu's first album seemed rushed, a little too experimental, and at times too loud, Citrus brings the right amount of noise, swirling affects, and sound balance.

So whilst The Obliterati is certainly not a patch on the seminal Vs. - given that it lacks the same magical combination of cerebral claustrophobia and kinetic psychosis - it’s easily more potent than the over-oiled ONoffON.

If there were ever an album that fulfilled the requirements for a “summer album,” this is it; Phoenix offers songs that offer little in the way of innovation or substance but a wealth of top-notch musicianship, catchy melodies, and transcendent choruses.