Nodding strongly towards everything from Hall & Oates, to Justice, and Patrice Rushen, and flaunting all of Mount’s influences without a hint of irony, Summer ‘08’ is from start to finish, a back to basics, pure-pop odyssey.

Sleek, elegant but neck deep in gory realities, Conscious is a record that deals in the very best and worst of the world but instead of getting dragged down with the weight of these realisations, Broods climb high.

While unpredictability is certainly part of Deerhoof’s charm, and the aim of The Magic was to take listeners out of their comfort zone, the erratics can feel contrived and its off-kilter aesthetics too disparate for it to ever really take hold.

While there’s a certain amount of showmanship--he’s certainly still got skills--more often than not it sounds like he’s simply going through the motions.

The Gotobeds execute a formula of beer-drenched reckless abandon, tense odes to the unloved and loveless. The result is a smart, sharp record to soundtrack the end of the world (or maybe even just a hungover Sunday afternoon.)

As an experiment, No Grace could go further. But PAWS continue to have fuzz defining their every step.

Weaves is a whole lot of fun, from the deliciously raucous standout ‘One More’ to the delicate ‘Eagle’ via the whimsical ‘Coo Coo’ and the Pixies-ish ‘Two Oceans’.

The album is a cohesive combination of touching sentiment and purposeful release--it’s a big progression for a group keen to open new doors.

Let’s Eat Grandma clearly have the potential to merge fantasy and instant fix pop, but this debut is more a showcase of their peculiarities than anything else.

Puberty 2 leaves no stone unturned in its attempt to make grim tales seem even worse than you could possibly imagine. It’s a brutally tough shock to the system, one that will leave its trace for years to come.

It’s been four years since the band’s previous album ‘Rispah’. That period of self-reflection and resulting new energy is presented beautifully here, and despite the mantra of patience, is delivered with a sense of immediacy.

Haunting, intoxicating and crystal clear, the record is both sad it’s over and excited that things haven’t even begun.

These are tracks that could easily be ballads slipped into a Hot Chip record, but where there they’d be bolstered with synths and programmed beats, here they are stark and knowingly bold in their simplicity.

Tell Me If You Like To possesses the same breakneck speed spirit of their first steps. But it’s also a full-bodied beast, the sound of a band racing to the finish line to accept their prize.

Her most consistent album to date, and let-loose like never before, blimey it’s good to have her back.

There’s still plenty of room for Fear of Men to grow, but without outside influence, they’re already masters of a unique craft.

A luscious, rich selection of otherworldly tracks, disparate in nature but still oddly cohesive. And it’s as timeless as that dreamy world JK Rowlin

It flits from doomy death marches to frenetic, fuzzy psych rock freakouts like the fantastic ‘Choco Plumbing’, while indulging in some quirkier elements including a stomping cover of The Beatles ‘I Want To Tell You’ and a sweet, Casio keyboard run-through of American standard ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’.

Whilst they haven’t stumbled at the unshakeable hurdle of the difficult second album, the ‘Wow’ factor of their debut has since diminished. Thankfully, there’s enough youthful grit and promise on show here to suggest that that spectacular something is on the horizon.

At no point of this record are you left hoping for another Editors anthem or new Slowdive music--yes that would be wonderful, but we now have Minor Victories to savour. Hopefully they’re here to stay.

More a culmination of all that’s come before; a band confident in their own skin, their identity clearer than ever, their mission unchanged since those transatlantic tapes at the turn of the millennium.

The record’s finest moments relate to everyone’s lives, in one way or another. Whether it’s golden youth or present day regrets, there’s something to cling onto.

Flickering and darting across a vast sonic plane, the album is a worthwhile expedition and an interesting re-imagining of the past propelled into the future.

Future Present Past more than proves The Strokes are as important a band in 2016 as they’ve ever been.

While The Dream Is Over doesn’t quite match the ebullient nature of last year’s ‘Too’ or ‘V’, there’s still much to fall for.

This is an emotional juggernaut--an avalanche, in fact. Just when they look to have delivered their parting blow, in steps another moment that captures life’s ups and downs with perfection.

It presents itself as an almost impossible follow-up, but Goodness more than holds its weight, and shows its beauty in time.

This is an album polished enough to see your face in, and yet it’s probably--and this isn’t necessarily a criticism--the most disjointed Holy Fuck album to date.