MGMT haven't necessarily re-discovered their mojo, but re-imagined it, and in doing so, may well have given us one of the best albums of the year.

As twelve equally matched moments of varied tone but consistent brilliance, it's nothing short of exactly what was expected--the start of something even bigger.

Nature Noir' is very much Crystal Stilts sticking to their well-trodden formula, conforming as they are, essentially, to their own trademark sounds. But it's also the sound of a band retaining the best of their identity: sharp melodies, steady drum fills and discordant synth still all underpin Brad's sleepy, monotonic vocals.

A refreshingly enjoyable album.

While there are certainly no grand overarching themes designed to tie the whole album together, the collection has a coherent unity both musically and lyrically which more conceptually defined and led works would struggle to match.

Love or loathe their destructive attitude towards convention, Coming Apart is an exciting, if extremely strange album.

Sometimes gloriously messy, sometimes just simply glorious, it is probably the most fun you'll have all year rhyming with harpists.

It's almost as if the songs were constructed by way of algorithm.

All in all, Summer Camp have offered up a wholly enjoyable second effort, possessing of a homespun charm that bears more similarities to those early Myspace demos than predecessor 'Welcome To Condale'.

As a debut, Melbourne is about as honest an expression as it comes.

London Grammar have created an album of graceful sophistication.

This is music that desires to be clutched to youthful hearts and fill sun-bleached fields or golden coastlines; a hunger to delight that is so insatiable it’s rather tough to question.

Snapshot is more derivative than what is is supposed to be an alternative to.

The arrangements here are certainly accomplished, but it's still that voice which makes the whole thing glow.

Consistent it may not be, but during its finest moments Nobody Knows is unequivocal proof that Beal's artistry is more than capable of surpassing his legend.

In the grand scheme of things, Sequel To The Prequel is a definite step in a positive direction.

Simple, catchy, and ruthlessly energetic, it’s an irresistible mix, and refreshing to hear a band oozing with such raw passion.

This is an album then of irresistible forward momentum; brutal and gentle, alien and human.

There’s a consistent sense of déjà vu that accompanies every melody, a pleasant sense of cosy familiarity, but also a like-ability running throughout.

A punch drunk brawler with a heart, it's the pay off to a perfect evolution.

It is among The Dodos’ best work--Carrier is a fitting eulogy.

The fact that Vernon’s voice is so distinctive means it’s difficult to distinguish this from his Bon Iver work yet there’s more than enough shimmering beauty here to get excited about.

Khan's state of the world message might be slightly obscured, but there's an obvious feeling of hope and refreshing lack of restraint on this hugely enjoyable return.

This record could well have been made 20 years ago, such is its timeless quality.

Forever is just a little bit tedious, quite repetitive and by the end, unfortunately, thoroughly forgettable.

It's a short and sweet affair, clocking in at just over half an hour, but Splashh don't need any longer than that to make their stamp.

The most complete archiving of everywhere Nine Inch Nails has been, but more than that a jaw-dropping preview of everywhere it can go.

Forest Swords’ debut long-player is electronic mastery at its very finest, because Engravings manages to make electronic music feel tactile, organic, and alive.

6 Feet Beneath The Moon broods, spits confidence and sits, thinks just as much.

Of course, as with any such unrelentingly blissful formula, if their sky-facing euphoria and sentimentality can’t be matched then the whole thing can be terribly nauseating.

Their fourth album, Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action is a thumping beast full of deliberate, sudden movements and big melodies.

If there is one fault, it may be that, at times, the production and backing is a little too restrained.... [But] It really is a thing of beauty, and gets better with every listen; one of the surest signs of something that will ultimately be deemed timeless.

They’ve managed to balance brutality with a controlled ambience that takes nothing away from their distinctive character.

Crimes of Passion is playful, real, genuine, and just a bit naughty.

A lot of the time Warp & Weft is just very slow, and whilst there are a couple of earworms to be turned up here and there, it's mostly pretty stodgy.

It’s woozy, dreamlike bliss and Mauro Remmidi owns it well.

In many ways Perpetual Surrender is the average British weather forecast; patchy, dull and cloudy with occasional sunny spells. Room for improvement.

Save for a couple of filler tracks--especially the trashy, throwaway 'Staying Home'--I Hate Music is an earnestly constructed album of melodic alt-rock.

It’s all teeth, blood and bones, spit, grease and sweat but it’s a snarling yet intelligent beast of an album that stalks the landscape of British music like the unstoppable monster it threatens, and with a certain bloodlust, deserves to be.

So Versions, the answer to the question of what happened when Zola Jesus met JG Thirlwell with orchestral intentions, is a success.

Pure Bathing Culture have created an ambient watercolour wash, but leave you fruitlessly longing for a brave splash of boldness across the canvas.

Musing on “perfected harmonies” while unexpected string sections peer into the foreground, we’re witnessing a group confident enough to start afresh while giving forceful nods to their celebrated past.

It may seem strange to get so excited about a record of vocal loops, but Barwick continually proves that truism that art isn't about elements but what you make of them--and this latest album is simply sublime.

Flourish // Perish is a thoroughly rewarding listen.

This is a clever, sophisticated album that still oozes warmth and affection. Superficiality and loneliness have never sounded so tender and dazzling.

You’ll come across both seemingly self-explanatory clues and more esoteric ones, which taunt you with their mysteries, and you will lose sense of time and reality as you wade through the debris. This album will absolutely floor you if given the chance.

Each song sounds like it has an endearing air to it. At times the lack of polish can be grating, but there are moments of delicacy and sensitivity that create a more rounded record than seems to exist on first listen.

The whole thing would have sufficed as a bonus disc rather than the standalone album it is.

A promising album that should make the next journey with them all the more exciting.

The concept is interesting, it fits well with the sonic ambitions of the band, and for the most part it flows effectively and has good changes of timing and pace.

Washed Out himself stumbled first time round, even. Here he creates a fuller piece, totally unconcerned with its context and its audience. Hence why it excels.

II is their finest work yet and cements the fact that Moderat have developed into a dance act whose existence should never have even been questioned in the first place.

Hobo Rocket is a genuinely believable, and extremely successful celebration.

Slick production and a consistency in sound may make for easy listening but if you pay too much attention it all starts to sound a bit contrived and cheesy.

Filled with experimental electronic goodness but maintaining a graspable simplicity throughout, Sleep Of Reason is a gorgeous and rewarding listen.

Swim Deep have written a youthful, entertaining debut that it’s hard to find fault with, and they graduate from B-Town with a first class degree.

Lenses, despite its four-to-the-floor tendencies and impeccable imagery, falls flat.

The Savage Heart couldn't be more vital. What The Jim Jones Revue do is good. The way they do it is nothing short of brilliant.

The vocals, the terrible rhymes... it's business as usual then for Liam; it's just scrubbed up a bit.

If you enjoy music that’s fun and rousing and are curious about other musical traditions--even if they are all jumbled up together--then Pura Vida Conspiracy makes for a joyful, life-affirming experience.

Aluna and George balance each other in the perfect see-saw, and Body Music is an absolute playground of pop music.

Musically confused, frequently lyrically painful (closer ‘Erotic Letter’ needs to be heard to be believed), its ego is so overpowering it ends up as a sweet relief against a backdrop of po-faced, fence sitting peers.

A glorious mix of the human and machine where you don’t know what you’re going to get until it happens. It’s the best kind of surprise.

The weight of the album and the somber nature of its subjects can nearly get too much at times. Yet it’s the lightness and dexterity in Nadine’s voice and songwriting that means she has created an album of stories that will warm you and keep you company.

At times bleak and nigh on disturbing yet always thick with complexity, it's a record which takes many, many listens to get to grips with and rewards repeat listens with almost unbelievable depth.

It's filled with cool sounds, and makes for an interesting listen, but it’s not engaging. It leaves the listener unfeeling, untouched.

An intriguing album befitting of a fascinating man.

More than three decades on from the day the pair first met in an electronics shop on the King's Road the Pet Shop Boys still manage to pack more ideas in an album than many others do in a thirty year career.

Jay-Z’s latest does little to prove that he can come up with anything that isn’t entirely predictable.

Because for all the added atmospherics, the album never feels overcrowded - Daughn Gibson’s haunting baritone always shines through.

The nods to Spiritualized and My Bloody Valentine are still there, but the world has moved on since then, and unfortunately, it feels like Maps is still stuck in 2007.

If the hype machine had previously inflated letlive's worth beyond their means then with this LP they are most certainly redressing that balance.

It dishes out moments of pure brilliance and moments of pure laziness in equal part, which is possibly the result of Blumberg being left to his own devices a little too much.

To some Goldheart Assembly will stand as a fine example of musical romance, but others might not enjoy the beta endearment that washes over the record, and find it dry, maybe even a little dull.

It's a swaggering victory lap for two artists at the peak of their creativity; it's a record that sees their talents fused in the most cohesive way; it's a coming together of immense talents.

On the whole, the album makes for difficult listening and it's hard to engage with.

Baths’ second album is dark and distressing but ultimately compelling.

Between The Walls is wonderfully unhinged; it just still needs a little more structure.

With a bit more focus and a more cohesive feel running throughout it, this could've been a great record. As it is, perhaps as a result of their success to date and the expectation it undoubtedly brings, it feels almost like a missed opportunity.

Cerulean Salt represents an outstanding example of that talent blossoming into one of US indie’s most vital and compelling voices.

This is not their most groundbreaking work, but it's very easy to enjoy a band who themselves enjoy what they're creating.

Sonically, it’s extremely impressive, and almost every song sounds massive. The cavernous sound suits the intensity of the band’s delivery.

It's a record that lacks the structure and order needed to make it into a cohesive unit, one that can be listened to beginning to end without skipping tracks.

You can be left feeling drained and exhausted after listening. What is clear, though, that if you give yourself over to it it is incredibly rewarding.

It's very different, and whether or not it's better than The Mars Volta is a debate for others; what is clear is that Omar Rodriguez Lopez--and friends--still have a lot more to offer.

Unoriginal, yes, but while some elements can verge on sounding a bit tired in places, the notable musical lineage it follows gives The Mountain Moves the potential to be as timeless as it is conventional.

It’s immediate and hard-hitting in the same way as blues rock.

Oasis bled into mediocrity faster than you can say 'Blur were better', but just occasionally on Spacehopper in Tripwires you can see the same ambition and pop nous that made their early tracks such a thrill to the mainstream.

With Love is a flawed collection that is on a par with Zomby’s previous work but one that is minted in the producer’s unique persona.

If you pick and choose your way around the collection of jumbled songs on offer, maybe you’ll get the opportunity to revel in some speedy, sunny chimes for a little while, until that inevitable sundown, at least.

Idiots is the wonderful sound of The Electric Soft Parade belatedly coming of age.

Soft Will marks Smith Westerns moving into another realm of quality and experimentation, and, to put it quite simply, this album is just a complete pleasure to listen to.

Odell may well sell a lot of records (though long term, he may not) but as far as art to engage and inspire goes, Long Way Down has precious little to recommend it.

More than anything though this is a record which feels warmed by summer sun, reminiscent of misty sunsets to blistering mid-mornings it listens like an album made by a band from California rather than New York.

Ranging from intimidating to wonderfully eye-opening, it's always forthright, and it barely falters.

This debut feels far too uncoordinated, un-moderated and incoherent to do more than dazzle and confuse in equal proportions before leaving the listener to make sense of what just happened.

It’s reassuring to note that, now five albums in, Tunng continue to distill and refine their sound, honing their craft to create their most accomplished album yet.

bounty is a record that, whilst great to vibe out to, kind of feels a little stitched together piecemeal.