he 2 Bears have once again triumphed at what they do best, serving up a vibrant and joyous take on the music that has shaped them.

The only sore-thumb is lead single ‘How Can You Really’, which feels far too polished for the lo-fi and experimental feel of the album. Apart from that, though, this is a record of magnificent magnitude and one that’s audacious as hell.

Sure, it’s a sound that at times can be guilty of slipping into little more than a background beat; the kind of thing you’d half listen to at two in the morning on Kiss100 cruising down a deserted motorway. This is not necessarily bad, just evidence of a sound that reflects the era it embodies.

Something On High is earnest, intelligent and more than anything, sincere.

We Come From The Same Place, then, is a delightful record, catchy enough to keep the listener’s attention, and with enough substance for them to return to it time and time again.

It’s this confidence that really shines throughout the album. Ware’s vocals are at the forefront, no longer hidden amongst a cloud of heavy electronics.

There must have been temptation to settle into a groove--gorgeous grooves, too--but by rebelling against themselves, Coyes and Dunis have been handed the ultimate lease of life.

It’s not a light listen, that’s a given, and Frye’s perplexing outlook on everything is the record’s only consistency over nine tracks. But those open-minded enough to explore Frye’s dystopian world of disgust and despair will find themselves ultimately wearing a shit-eating grin by the time it’s all over.

From what they’ve cooked up here, it’s hard to imagine hearing a record this immersive and mesmerising from anyone else.

This is hyperactive music, pushed to its limits.

Whilst work on Radiohead’s ninth album may soon become priority, the assurance with which this album has been constructed shows that this is no trivial side project.

Taiga is more of an achievement than that; it’s the mark of someone who has truly taken their time over their work. Cooped up in a friend’s holiday home in Washington, Nika Roza Danilova crafted a small slice of perfection.

It’s the sound of meeting someone for the first time, pulses racing, love rising up --that’s not best expressed in pure formula. Caribou has successfully managed to see past sense, instead opting with an instinct that tends to produce dazzling results.

Free of statements and the man’s desire to make every record some kind of grand manifesto, Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes is a mini-triumph that’s only occasionally tarnished.

In short, it sounds like Weezer. Those magic chord changes, the wiry guitar licks, Rivers Cuomo’s awkward, faltering vocals--these may be brand new songs, but they’re all so immediately familiar that, as the title may suggest, they create one almighty aural comfort blanket.

V For Vaselines has been released a few months too late, for V For Vaselines is a summer album.

It’s nice enough to pass the time with, but certainly not a staple record worth revisiting time and time again.

Whilst a fun record, there’s only one issue remains, the fact that it’s often hard to connect with something so unabashedly honest.

Goat are making true, sludged up psychedelia that seems to come from a new, specially cultivated brain-lobe.

Indiana successfully abuses the boundaries of genre to create a melancholic tome of songs that dares to be inventive from its first steps to its dying moments.

It’s a breathless record, one that threatens to last an eternity--such is the speed and dazzling depth at which James expresses himself.

‘Jaded’ undoubtedly brings with it a glimmer of hope in an album that ultimately comes up short in delivering the fusion of intensity and melody that has served GRMLN so well before.

It’s a far braver album than his debut. Chaotic, experimental, but oddly refined, it looks like Aaron Jerome has released one of 2014’s most exciting albums.

Encyclopedia is the sound of The Drums trying to find their feet once again, an endeavour not yet fully accomplished.

Too Bright is a diverse, multi-faceted and all-absorbing slice of sheer mastery.

It’s 28 minutes of thrashy, unadulterated skate punk and is a knockout from start to finish.

Those looking for 24/7 simple, saccharine sun and smiles may be jarred in a few odd points; but the rest of us can enjoy the added punch and intensity that Be Slowly brings to the table.

Beyond the flute solos and mind-blowing euphemisms, there’s rich invention behind This Is All Yours.