Lazaretto is perhaps the most conventionally made of White’s back catalogue. And for an artist as brilliantly unconventional as he, could prove itself more of a test than any of its predecessors. A test passed with flying colours (or at least various shades of blue).

After an ‘Our Version of Events’-worthy build, it’s crying out for something slightly off-kilter to douse the saccharine overload, but instead shoots for a bounding chorus of ‘Rather Be’-proportions, which misses in favour of something that can only be described as 90s dance clunk.

More questions than answers, more problems than solutions, but with just enough moments of sheer brilliance to justify it as a release.

Intimate and involving doesn’t necessarily mean that the record is engaging, however, and some tracks wash over without an impression, ultimately making this feel like little more than an indulgent side-project.

House of Spirits is a half-success, showing promise and ambition but lacking both the direction and the songs to be anything but a minor addition to the band’s catalogue.

Kyla La Grange still has a voice you want to listen to, but two albums in, it seems like she’s still searching for the best music to set it to.

It’s not routine or mundane, but the second half of the album represents a disappointing fade in if not quality, excitement.

Fans of Fucked Up’s more experimental efforts may be left slightly underwhelmed by Glass Boys, but for what is at heart a hardcore band, it is still a hugely ambitious and exciting record, that hits top gear almost immediately and barely shifts down until the final piano melody of its eponymous closer.

By all accounts, it’s in the crucible of live performance where this duo excels. But put on record, it all feels a bit lost in translation.

Featuring minimal hooks, guttural yelps and harrowing production, Government Plates sounds like nothing else this year--so in other words, it sounds a whole lot like Death Grips.

The majority of the record is just not memorable enough.

Replicating the 60s psych sound is something that is often tried but rarely successful, yet this Kiwi trio suit these influences that they so obviously wear on their sleeves.

Their knack for storytelling--which frontman Andrew Savage has always sported no matter what project he’s been involved in--has matured, providing extra strength to the slow jams this time around.

Grown up, spotlessly polished and now with full-fledged circuitry, these pirates are machines now, making Teleman’s debut nothing short of electric.

It's simply too mired in experimentation to make for an enjoyable or enlightening experience.

Smith's vocals are spot-on throughout, save for the odd Mariah-esque trickle towards X Factor auditionee theatrics, and find themselves paired with as pitch-perfect a production as has been heard all year.

Van Etten has gained in confidence and widened her scope, and the results are impressive.

Quite frankly, it’s a towering edifice of electronic brilliance.

It’s an undeniably strong album, in which existing fans will find much to love. It just isn’t quite ‘Heartland’.

Positivity has no bounds, and in Galore this London duo has successfully created a prescription for crummy moods, rain soaked commutes and even the slightest hint of misery.

Although Upside Down Mountain could do with a little more lyrical variety and structural experimentation, it is strong.

Ghost Stories is the sound of Coldplay finally coming to terms with who they are--a universally loved, often loathed, slightly cheesy outfit. Charmingly cheesy, though.

Severely damaged, sometimes terrifying, and always enjoyable, it’s his most challenging album yet.

Dark and light, sweet yet savvy, layered but not overproduced--Foxes has created a work that embodies all these dichotomies and walks the line between them perfectly.

Whatever the hell Bo Ningen are doing, and somehow it feels almost so natural it’s instinctive or involuntary to them, they’re doing it very, very, well.

While Life Among the Savages lacks the absolute highs of Quever’s previous work, it also lacks any lows, except for possibly the abrupt ending which leaves you longing for more.

Ultimately, it is very, very hard to dislike Hour Of The Dawn.

While Savage remains the same bleary-eyed and soft-hearted crooner he always has been, Bermuda Waterfall feels far more widescreen than anything he’s done before.