While The National don't progress or indeed offer anything new to outstanding cynics, they instead rejoice in their strengths of detailing life and all its sorry baggage in the most beautiful of ways.

Land Of CanAan's mix of warmth and sorrow sees Marques Toliver finally create an accomplished and whimsical sound that we only had glimpses of in other artists’ work.

A laid-back, well-considered and joyous effort to swing you through the summer months.

They've crafted an album that's endearing and inspiring, even if its genesis was the complete contrary.

It doesn't try too hard to be cool or rock climb your intellect but makes you smile, dance and sing away to yourself in places you shouldn't.

So we get the usual talk of death rides, mescalitoes and, erm, black pudding. But when the duo do click, it’s masterful.

As ever, Amidon mediates between the folk music of his ancestry and the popular music of his day, finding a unique modernity in his marrying of past and present.

It’s possibly not to everyone’s taste--no doubt fans of the definiteness of ‘Pleasure’ may turn on this one--but it’s more confident and upfront, less immersed in background noise.

Silver Wilkinson is an album that combines all the facets of Bibio’s character that have made him such an interesting and, at times, frustrating musician.

They've got some good ideas, but perhaps just aren't ready for a full-length release.

Ultimately though, there are too many times here where these tracks sound too contrived and calculated, a false approximation in place of the real thing.

It's fair to say that there are no real surprises here but what we do get is a solid collection of retro tinged songs that will appeal to fans of their previous work.

Random Access Memories is, for all the DJ-on-camera dancing hype, an album in the proper sense of the word; these aren't thirteen dancefloor ready bangers, it's a grandiose statement of intent.

The Britain of 2013 may be a place full of dread in Primal Scream’s world but that sense of anger has prompted them to deliver an extremely impressive return that’s brash, bold and often brilliant.

An indie-disco hit, or a gorgeous ballad are only a blink away from dead in the water mediocrity and if you’re not patient with the album you might be tempted to write the whole thing off. Don’t though. It’s worth it.

Rkives doesn’t shed any light on Rilo Kiley, there’s no standout defining track that was flippantly consigned to a b-side or the vaults. Instead, it’s a collection which provides more satisfaction than surprise.

It'll make you dance and sing until you sweat, and although it stutters in places and has plenty of sections that build but frustratingly never execute the finish to shatter your eardrums, it's an album that is very difficult to truly dislike.

As an introduction to the man and a myth he’s already constructing it’s a very enticing and exciting one, if there’s more to come at this level from him true classics await.

Strange Pleasures is an album of cinematic charm and where, with the weight lifted off his shoulders, Hughes has created a journey along a dark motorway that adds light and colour to stand out from the traffic.

Monomania is an easy album to become monomaniac about.

In a sense it presents itself as an evolutionary rather than revolutionary development, in this case one which takes its predecessor's penchant for the instant and injects an enormous dose of FM-friendly American power-pop from days of yore into the mix.

Full of heart and full of ideas, it’s big, clever and brilliantly odd.

It sounds fantastic throughout; there's just the right mix of intense dance floor dynamics and reverential sounds.

Lyrically it is definitely awful.

An intelligent and, most importantly, a cathartic album it allows Ghostpoet to shed his worries in the most eloquent and interesting ways.

Recycled though some of these tales may be--his notable past tends to weave its way into much of his work--sung with his Southern drawl and playful hollers, Seasick Steve just about has the charm and vigour to carry them through.

This album is about taking control back. It does it with conviction and vigour, with squalling guitars and wiry bass lines.

The lightness of Mvula's touch is shown by the fact that even the most leaden songs here have a moment where they catch fire.