Anybody arriving at this album expecting 13 ‘Milkshake’s will be sorely disappointed, but everyone else will hear Kelis at her most effortless.

Slight emptiness aside, this is one of the most confident, self-assured debuts of the year--striking, exciting, and intimidating to Little Dragon fans everywhere.

What we have is quite ironically, a record lacking both direction and colour.

With Loom, Fear of Men have created something more than mere fragments; a record which could engulf you if you give it chance; where sounds and textures merge together to create a beautifully bleak story.

Rented World might not be quite the landmark that it’s predecessor was-- it’s unlikely to be a fixture of too many album of the year lists outside of the punk scene--but regardless of the accolades it may or may not win, it is evidence of a band who know exactly what they want to do, and have little trouble in achieving it.

A gorgeous, luscious Eels record, sounding every bit as familiar as any of that suggests, the country-tinged guitars, the organs, piano, sprinkling of xylophone and those comfortingly gravelly vocals in which the world's in love.

The result is a largely mixed bag of lyrically intelligent but sometimes slightly weak songs, all with a distinct air of the celestial.

Ultimately, this is the sound of a group looking back at what they’ve achieved individually in order to get that chemistry churning again.

Sure, it loses its way about two-thirds through via the meandering ‘Every Guy Wants To Be Her Baby’ and ‘Memories’, but there’s always the suggestion that it’s sort of the point.

If Japanther focused more on their punk rock sensibilities and honed in on their talent for hook-infested pop songs, rather than trying to clean up their act, then they’d be far better off for it.

The delightfully obtuse and sometimes anxious sketches on Arcadia are what make it both enjoyable, and frustrating.

What With Light And With Love lacks in surprises, it more than makes up for with quality.

All things considered Chuck Inglish hasn’t offered enough that’s new or high quality enough to truly make a mark.

Although playful in a creative way, this is a serious album.

This debut album is very much the culmination of Faker's disparate influences, showcasing his broken, downtempo soul at its finest.

As a starting point, So It Goes is a damn fine one.

There are plenty of shout-a-long moments along the way though (the frantic whoa’s and blah-blah’s on ‘Lionheart’ arrive at exactly the right time), and all-in-all it’s an extremely commendable effort that solidifies PUP as one of this year’s bands to get sweaty to at a festival.

There are basically no odd turns here, no tangents into unexpected territory and certainly nothing at will make you spin your head round for a second glimpse. That being said, it fulfils its remit with consummate ease and you'd be hard pressed to say it's unenjoyable.

The album is an obvious step-up right from the start.

Old Fears makes for a fascinating record, evolving gradually from start to finish and yet doing so in a way subtle enough so as to never jar nor stand out.

He sounds soft, restrained and beautiful.

This delight of an album might bend and warp reality, but it’s also a rare gem because underneath all of its trickery it still projects back a reflection of something completely grounded.

SOHN's essentially written an album's worth of brilliant pop songs.

It’s a feel good album, not through cynical design, but just through making whoever is listening feel good.

It's a fine debut.

This balance between a sweet, butter wouldn’t melt surface and a resolutely ballsy undercurrent means that, over the course of eleven tracks, the album is never predictable.

Overwhelmingly luscious at times, Range Of Light is a record that musically embodies the art of escapism, even if that does means evading even the consciousness of its listeners from time to time.

Kirk's irresistible vocals lend the album all the quality it needs, and their lighter touches and some inspired choices really add depth to the monochromatic and claustrophobic formula.

Himalyan is loud, raucous, massive amounts of fun and it has style, swagger and teeth.

Here and Nowhere Else is relentless in the best possible way.

The songs only sound sleeker, more melodic, more intensely stoned.

Ultimately, this is either the musical equivalent of seeing your old clothes in a vintage store, or this album has been hardwired into our central nervous system.

Darlings is warm and expansive and sexy, and feels like a more intimate affair than his debut, 2007’s ‘Spirit If...’.

This is an album that suffers from having altogether too much surface and not nearly enough substance.

Till Midnight might not be the most groundbreaking album, largely treading a path that has been well worn over the years, but few people do impassioned, rustic folk rock as well as Chuck.

Whilst Teeth Dreams isn't a bad album, it feels pedestrian and ordinary compared to what The Hold Steady are capable of.

While they do make for a well-structured collection of songs, individual tracks are often disappointing and the result feels like a half-hearted series of Doctor Who; its audience sustained more by thrilling trailers and the promise of fulfilment than any real substance

To put it in an alcoholic analogy; their sound may be like a fine wine, maturing as it gets older. But they’re sure as hell not going to hesitate in sprinting to the nearest wood and necking the whole damn bottle.

Though the writing is clever and at times funny, the whininess and constant soul-searching shuts the audience out, and anyone deciding to stay is bludgeoned again and again with his relentless wet sentimentality.

A kaleidoscope of charming sounds.

While fans of the band's more lo-fi beginnings may stare, open-mouthed, bemused at the central role played by synths on Forcefield, there's every chance they'll be gaining a whole slew of newbies, should these many choruses be set loose.

This is the sound of an artist who has allowed himself to take a break and record eleven tracks he would like to rele

This is a maddened work that deals with its own conscience; a debut grappling with heavy topics and conquering them.

With overwhelming confidence the Brooklyn-based trio present 11 songs of unerring quality and an almost uncountable numbers of flicks and tricks.

These deranged components act as one, swinging into motion in one fatal blow. That it comes out sounding seamless is another thing altogether.

Seven albums in, they’re not so much shifting the formula as refining it and waiting for cult stardom to creep up on the scene.

As every track twists and turns, building upon their previous musical accomplishments, this feels like a band who have finally truly found their stride.

Two average tracks out of nine starts to feel like too many and leaves you doubting whether the rest was quite as good as you thought.

The record surprises far more frequently than his previous material, despite never straying too far from his initial sound.

It's just a little more grown up.

Sisyphus is easily the boldest project to come from any three of its members, and that’s saying a lot.

There's so much to like about Mirrors The Sky that could've been loved instead.

In short, Night Time, My Time is stunning.

At a succinct length, the album does exactly what it needs to do without a second to spare.

Despite all the doubts and the self-admonishing, in a strange way you won’t find a more affirming album all year.

The energy of this debut is tangible.

It's pleasantly pristine stuff from the still relative newcomer.

At best, it's eccentricity gone wild--there's no shortage of weird noises creeping in throughout--and at worst, just confusing.

Although Wasser has perhaps sounded better in the past and too many of the songs stretch past their welcome, The Classic is a welcome addition to Joan As Police Woman's repertoire and a recommended addition to any album collection due to its impressive ability to surprise and innovate as it moves forward.

You Can Do Better is a perfect execution of a well thought out plan.

Elbow sound revitalised here with Garvey proving himself once more to be one of the most eloquent British songwriters around.

Its lack of slickness and idiosyncrasies are where its charm lies.

In short, if you're a Dashboard Confessional fan then you'll find plenty to enjoy here. Full-blown pretty-boy emotion dished out by a musician as adept at pulling the heart strings with big, simple feelings as anyone you might care to name.

TV en Français is more a more muted outing.

An accomplished debut but surely only the mere beginnings of a promising career.

A genuinely pleasing aspect of this album is hearing Carter’s vocals dominate more than they have in the past. However, the pace of the second half is less full-throttle and less memorable for it.

While hardly covering new ground or expanding their sonic palette, English Oceans is a welcome addition to the Drive-By Truckers discography as well as their best since 2008’s ’Brighter Than Creation’s Dark’.

A tour de force of Eagulls' brash and brazen-faced formula, this is a record that’ll be ringing in your ears for days after it’s finished.

Chunky, neatly devised and deeply satisfying--this is the sound of staring into a black winter puddle while a nearby bird squirts a veneer of soothing melody onto proceedings.

It's Springsteen, it's 70s soft-rock, it's sun-soaked Californian road trips.

Through lulling endless days to fretting thoughts about the future, they remain the same bunch, capable of making the impossible sound almost too easy.

Manhattan would thus far be a brilliantly joyous record, buzzing with intention and vitality. Unfortunately there are a pair of oddball transgressions that ruin this.

An enigma made by a puzzle, ESTOILE NAIANT is as compelling and as unusual as the musician who refuses to tell you his name or show you his face.

St. Vincent showcases Annie Clark as a fiercely accomplished musician, a relentlessly original artist, and now, an innovator of pop.

That there’s nothing particularly ‘new’ about Morning Phase is by no means a fault: this is acoustic Beck, and it’s acoustic Beck at his most sublime.

It's nothing we haven't heard before, but it's delightfully packaged, making it feel unique in its own way.

The glue between ten ambitious tracks, she holds her own and sounds more relevant than ever.

Their most complete record by a serious stretch, it's a work that laughs, cries, detests, adores and above anything else inspires.

With a few forgettable songs and seemingly overcrowded moments, Lo-Fang's debut falls short--acting as more of a promise of what's to come, rather than a thrilling introduction.

Each and every track has its own identity that perfectly mixes the familiar with the unfamiliar, which is simply a continuation of what The Notwist have always been best at.

Blame Confusion is great.... It spends its whole ten tracks threatening to break out in to full-blown epic--but remains able to stop short every time.

Not a lot on Spreading Rumours makes sense. It doesn't match, even in its apparent desperate attempt to sound like the bargain bin of an Urban Outfitters.

Always vivid and often affecting, the record deals with love and loss in a way that constantly resonates.

An album which feels lovingly crafted, full of moments that only reveal themselves after multiple listens.

The material on Keel Her is probably best enjoyed one by one--17 tracks at once is a bit much.

While the album may look backwards musically, Gonzalez has always been particularly adept at chronicling the world around him (in this case his Hackney stomping ground) to evoke a strong sense of place and keep the record firmly rooted in the here and now.

It's never boring, the dynamism of the tracks means they all have a sense of motion. It's just, after a while, there doesn't seem to be a destination in mind.

Like the heady themes on Sun Structures, Temples appear to be a group still ascending to a brighter sphere.

Bold, experimental, and an absolute delight, Bombay Bicycle Club cycle the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

This time, with their newest album, the band seem to want to give something back, and whilst obviously somewhat dark at moments, it comes loaded with joyous and celebratory sounds.

An album trying to survive under the harshest conditions, Angel Guts: Red Classroom is a properly thrilling listen.

This time around, she delivers more of the same: tracks for the club with a sense of restraint and melancholy, as well as a poppy accessibility.

There are a lot of words in this, their fifth album, and yes, they have always been a literate band, but here it often seems somewhat forced.

Breton have made a record that draws upon their art foundations more than their first.

Gardens + Villa undoubtedly have many toys at which they're more than adept at manipulating--just a shame there aren't better songs for them to adorn.

It fits within its own logic, but no others, resulting in a succinct record that should be anything but.

It seals the chapter of Jordan’s late teens, early twenties, and it lands up being his finest work by a country mile.

The atmosphere isn't always strictly severe, knowing right when to let up with gorgeous melodies seeping through the chiselled cracks. These moments save the record from being vociferous without a cause, allowing the more vehement moments to speak louder than they would otherwise.