They’ve refined their scope to create an album that you want to blast out of your car, your house party--or ideally a boombox having been transported back to a street corner in Eighties New York.

Me Moan is a remarkable record that takes a genre rooted in formulae and clichés--country--and spins it into something fresh, compelling and edgy. A stunning follow up.

Overall, it’s fair to say that Long Distance Song Effects is pretty much what you’d expect if you were one of the few who heard Goldheart Assembly’s debut album, without some of the instant hit that record delivered, but with plenty of depth to be found once you’ve peered beneath the skin.

Tides [is] a somewhat unbalanced listen, with both genuine highs and a few frustrating lows.

Lyrically lightweight though it may be, Icky Blossoms can be impassioned and angry, primarily when Pressnall takes on the vocals.

Just two years on from Barrett's debut record, Bass Drum of Death shows a definite creative expansion--and he shows no sign of losing his way with a hook.

Solar Year manage to take traditional choral music and refract it through a modern prism. It seems at once on the pulse of the zeitgiest, yet at the same time strangely timeless. The lush production creates an atmosphere of sustained reverie, which envelops a listener in a warm yet visceral way.

Cricket and rock music have a long history, and at points it all gets a bit glamorous. Sticky Wickets isn’t concerned with those though: it takes the thinga that makes the loner, the geek, the loser, the tragic feel all warm and fuzzy, and then makes that sound like ELO. And nothing this year has made me feel happier than that.

A hidden gem in a murky quagmire of landfill non-entities.

The songwriting is solid but although their overall sonic palate has been shuffled, they remain a band largely focused on doing things with a tried-and-tested format.

A spokesperson for wearied souls, Waxahatchee leaves the rest of us intrigued but far from in love.

Somewhere in these two discs there is a very good hour long album laying in wait. In it's current form though, it's merely a decent one in need of editing.

While it might not be as iconic as the records it admires, Chewed Corners is an invigorating return for the Planet Mu head honcho.

The Kenny Dennis LP is an intriguing piece of character led alt-hip hop. It will baffle some, but if you stick with it the reward for your patience is Serengeti’s keenly observed portrayal of an enigmatic, idiosyncratic and ultimately charming character.

Sistrionix could be a foundation for something much better or something infinitely worse, but for now Deap Vally don’t particularly deserve your hate or your love.

Apocalypse is very literally a rewarding and difficult second album, with its roots in tragedy and loss and its furthermost fronds in hope and moving forward, an album that challenges listeners with an incredible level of subtlety, hidden depths and wash of openly expressed emotion.

This record is an excellent evolution for the band and is a long way away from the good times that were seen on tracks such as ‘Weekend’.

Under closer scrutiny, a three song lull holds it back from being as powerful as it might have been, but I’m happier listening to this flawed, fumbled and underdeveloped Kanye record than I am a thousand other records that came out this year and didn’t even try to change the world.

It may be somewhat on the lofty, artistic side, but bounty manages somehow to avoid ostentation; it is largely elegant, grounded and rewarding.

At a time when many electronic albums sound more like mixed sets than collections of songs, this expansive double album is all the more impressive, with its 33 abruptly separated songs holding the listener captive within Zomby’s edgy world for well over an hour.... It’s unnervingly beautiful.

Tunng have been moving towards this downbeat place slowly, and their arrival here shows a real cohesion in them as songwriters and as a band. It’s less the sound of a band losing their edge and more the sound of them finding their zen.

Everything’s so crisply atmospheric, and Stelmanis is such a talismanic presence, that the album’s momentum never flags, even if there’s sometimes a minute or two without a hook.

Perhaps with a little more nuance they can exploit the potential of their partnership to be one of the most intriguing electro-pop duos around--but on Ice on the Dune that potential remains unrealised.

It's got an edge, moreso than Astro Coast, and that element of creeping unease makes Pythons a fuller, more mature and honest album than its precursor.

Another summer album of frisky, playful, intelligent, tune-filled wonder from a great songwriter born to put a massive slobbering smile on yer face.

Almost universally, Immunity is an album which puts a well-placed confidence in rewarding the patience of the listener, melding together current club trends with a vulnerable humanity to create an hour-long arc of total immersion.

Kveikur is as melodic and, in places, as fragile as anything the band have released before.

The accomplished sonic collages of Howlin' finely balance Jagwar Ma's influences and in doing so transcends into something singularly thrilling and cohesive.

Perhaps the great achievement is that, in delivering an album that invites close scrutiny, These New Puritans create an aural haven from the very lifestyle Field of Reeds challenges.

There's flashes of Jimmy Eat World brilliance and even a few classics in there, but this is an album that's also prone to a few fillers and cheesy one liners.

It's hard to properly enjoy the songs when you’re constantly noticing their inspirations, like discovering one of those old Shine compilations made up entirely of b-sides you’ve never heard before.

13 does what you’d expect it to, no more, no less.

It lacks the punch of Lucky Shiner, but is no less charming.

These 17 vignettes glow with Cold War paranoia, picking up where Threads, the most scarring piece of TV ever made, left off. It might also be the duo’s most accomplished album yet--and that’s coming from someone unable to remove the Hi Scores LP from his stereo.

Amplifier sound confident and in control of their own future, while remaining aware and appreciative of their past--and that’s by no means a bad place to be.

Blood & Chemistry is a sound debut that despite its flaws, will whole-heartedly be welcomed by alternative rock fans.

It's not entirely successful, but also it's far from a failure--and it's certainly a unique piece of art that shouldn't be dismissed after the first or second listen.

It’s a brave step to put down the filters, and embrace organic sounds, and one that is largely successful. However, much like discovering the inspiration of his chosen moniker (apparently he just really likes having a bath), some of the magic is lost in the process.

It’s just that on Don’t Forget Who You Are he and his new collaborators have turned everything up to 11 in a transparently concerted effort to throw him into the spotlight, but in setting him apart from his previous work he’s lost many of the idiosyncrasies which made him interesting.

This is pop music with a real soul to it, and Camera Obscura have bared it magnificently.

This is a collection of elegantly assembled, fat-free pop songs, made from light and air and heart, and great choruses.

Perhaps Nightmare Ending would have been a more interesting record if Cooper had let himself off the leash rather more and explored ‘flawed’ ideas and sounds more purposefully.

Although this is hardly cause for concern, one minor problem with Lesser Evil is that it doesn’t sound quite as fun--in the sell-your-house; buy-sandals; join-the-circus sense--as one expects Doldrums are fully capable of sounding.

Nothing unduly groundbreaking here, yet at the same time always brutally refreshing.

If Other Life isn’t so squarely on the money as Flamingo, it’s not immediately obvious why. Here the melodic riches found on that record are neatly converted to a cute, low-budget soul currency.

Images Rolling is a definite step up in consistency compared to his debut, and will be well-suited as a soundtrack to the famous Manchester sunshine, whenever it remembers to make an appearance.

If the easily distracted are at risk of sleeping through this, fans of emotional tours de force will have a great new addition to their 'best albums of the year' list.

In a genre stacked with pathological mediocrity, Jackleg Devotional to the Heart is a relatively sure-footed success--at worst enjoyable fluff, at best a provocative, quietly electrifying treasure.

Only time will tell whether CSFLY turns out to be as seminal as Crooks and Lovers, but that isn’t important. What is important is that it’s an accomplished, interesting and thoroughly enjoyable body of work that will be played again and again and again, on the radio, at festivals and in bedrooms the world over.

Yes, sometimes it sounds like a circus rave in a toybox, and it's not what you would call relaxing. But it's uplifting, triumphant and inquisitive.

Legacy collects about a decade of Boo recordings under one roof, although there’s no obvious arc of progression here--he’s consistently out on a limb, and with very few exceptions (‘There U Go Boi’, ultra-pitched-up and relatively linear ghetto house), this could only have come from his brain.

Tender but bold and with an array of melodies that strike straight at the heart, it has all the ingredients of a classic Swedish pop album.

There’s definitely still some fine moments in what follows ["Little Love Caster" and "Devil's Resting Place"]--there’s certainly plenty more of everything in a record that stretches towards the hour mark-- but it never quite reaches those early heights again, which are possibly as high as Marling has reached in her career thus far.

While this isn't Wild Nothing stalling, Empty Estate never coalesces into anything as confident as his previous releases, leaving the impression that for now he's running on the spot.

Like horror films or ghost stories, the upside of ADULT.’s brand of dark paranoia is its visceral thrill; it’s as nasty as electro can get whilst maintaining a remnant of a reassuring pop edge.

There’s everything here that those in the know have come to love and expect from The Veils, but there’s also a window in for the rest of you--especially those not-quite goth, dreamer-types lurking over there, I see you with your Low lyric tattoo and Yeah Yeah Yeahs t-shirt.

A disappointingly tepid affair.

After the sometimes frustrating, frequently exhilarating journey, the thrilling, head-shattering, Captain Eugene Cernan-sampling 'Contact', manned by DJ Falcon, simply soars.

Hummingbird feels wiser, grander, and more knowing.

From a listening perspective Drifters is an engaging, and often intriguing concoction. Slightly less appetising is the drawn out and mostly instrumental ambience of Love is the Devil.

The real problem with Limits of Desire is that it’s a decent album that’s difficult to sell.

On the whole, it matches Smith’s cheerier mood. A couple of abstract jam splodges aside, the album is punchier and less dirgy than last time.

Unfortunately, despite his illustrious CV and unconventional route to the release of his first album, it proves to be a competent, but disappointingly conventional affair.

If emotional depth is what you’re after, these eight tracks are never likely to be your bag. But, if you can take Bigfoot for the sun-blushed, sweet-natured collection of songs that it is, then this could be the soundtrack to your summer.

For now though, as an album, as a piece of art, it’s beautifully painted but the colour palette needs to expand substantially.

There is nothing here that is particularly new, but when it comes to the many, many contemporary bands who take their influence--either musically or aesthetically--from the eighties, Wampire are at the top of the pile.

For all its glitz and shine, Dungeonesse feels slightly disingenuous--a rather contrived leap onto the 'summer of disco' bandwagon.

Although a quiet album, it’s not one that ever seems to tire, always remaining interesting.

Sure it’s trying to mimic something it can never truly be but it’s lovely nonetheless and credit where due will probably be rewarded with more than a few listens.

With Bright Sunny South, Amidon has taken a huge step forward as a folk artist, creating arrangements which preserve his musicianship, while deepening the maturity of his interpretive skills.

So while it’s still tough to classify his sound, Silver Wilkinson is Bibio’s most streamlined recording to date.

The new record by Vampire Weekend is the best alternative pop album you will hear this year. Unselfconscious, technically brilliant in a way that crucially you will never actually notice, shimmering with beautiful, strange melodies and just a small smidge of actual bonkers.

This might not be their finest work, but it’s the best thing they’ve made in at least a decade.

Songs Cycled has everything you’d want from Van Dyke Parks and from an album. By being true to the Van Dyke Parks’ perception of what an album should contain, his music sounds as though it is from a different planet.

Fink still seems to be finding the confidence in his voice that when it’s pushed is truly wonderful, but most of time a little dreary and unconscious. That aside, this is a lovely little record for folk fans who like a Seventies scuff.

Some Say I So I Say Light is the attempt to merge a lone voice into the black of the vast, surrounding landscape, and it succeeds absorbingly well.

Four's own structure helps this insisted variety stick together, resulting in another piece of theatrical songwriting that confirms Harvey's genius as an arranger.

A welcome, and ultimately pleasurable return.

The great thing about rkives, though, is that as much as it constitutes an absolute boon for long-time fans, it works as a fine introduction to the band on its own merit.

There's plenty of interesting stuff going on throughout.

It’s kind of sloppy, but it also sounds pretty astonishing cranked up loud, and despite the mixed emotional messages I suspect it’ll find its calling this summer as the band’s most fun album.

Amply weighted for a debut, Silence Yourself comprises a balance of really excellent stuff and the simply very good.

Ultramarine moves Young Galaxy from being a great indie band to being a great band, full stop. The songs profoundly move the body and the psyche in equal measure.

Ready to Die isn't the missing sequel to Raw Power, but it is a masterclass in writing a big, dumb punk album with occasional touches of emotional depth.

An odd little journey, but one worth making.

A joyous but intricate album, Edgeland is a perfectly paced outlet for Hyde’s cryptic urban snapshots.

Hi Beams is an album that delights and baffles in almost equal measures.

Praxis Makes Perfect only suffers in comparison to its predecessor in that it lacks a clear standout track in the same vein as Stainless Style’s ‘I Told Her On Alderaan’, but it works better as a cohesive record.

Volume 3 is essential listening and another triumph.

The results, in this still-formative period of their development, have been predictably mixed.

The record loses its way a touch over its second half, ultimately lacking the songwriting craft to deliver emotional gratification, though it’s naggingly close.

A few tracks towards the end of In Guards We Trust will maybe sound better once you’ve fully absorbed the single fodder of the record, but the psychedelic moments of ‘Your Man’ just don’t hit the spot for me as they may for fans of later MGMT noise.

Space Ducks is a must have for fans, and a superb introduction for those unfamiliar with his work.

Ultimately, it’s all just too lazy. Yes, I know that’s the point, but this really is slacking overkill.

Lyrically, the album only deteriorates into further embarrassment.

This album is Grubb’s most cinematic and balanced offering yet. It slowly burns through his moods, explores his Western panoramas and phantasmagorical musings.

Birthmarks is probably the most impressive Born Ruffians record to date, but it’s a shame they travelled so far without straying from the middle of the road.

This is not a record for the fair-weather Frank fan, rather one in which he sticks to his story with the stubbornness of a mule.