Wonderfully accomplished in construction, devastatingly powerful in delivery, Echo Lake have just raised the bar one notch higher for everyone around them.

It's true Lidell darts from one scene to the next, and not every moment earns its place. Yet it all makes a curious kind of sense in Compass' vivid canvas.

Their output remains honest, unsullied and socially conscious--it’s still got all the bark and bared teeth of a Boston terrier, and the drinking songs are still out in force, but there’s a message of hope at its core that espouses all the values that are held so dear to the contemporary punk scene.

It’s the sound of Chuck Schultz’s Peanuts, dusky ‘70s Californian sunsets and the sound of a talent transcending her artistic straitjacket. Here’s to volume two.

It never ultimately transports you into his head or heart. All of which doesn’t stop Oracular Spectacular from being a blissful 40 minutes of high-end stereophonic joy, but it does severely hamper the listener from imbuing their own emotions back into it.

This is bliss, it's that simple.

Amok is, above all, a very pleasurable listen, basically just the sound of some talented middle aged dudes enjoying themselves. Let it wash over you, and you’ll enjoy it too.

Isla is nothing revolutionary. That's not to say that its originality is completely lost, but perhaps a touch more adventure and earnest into the mix would change the Portico Quartet's breeze into something much more powerful.

As an album, The High Country is a little disappointing, as fans of Richmond Fontaine might wish for something a little more traditional in the structure, or at least for the story idea to have been realised better.

Sometimes Screws Get Loose becomes a little samey and repetitious, but overall, its a pleasant antidote to those cold mid-winter blues while providing Those Darlins a steady platform with which to reach a wider audience.

Era represents a pleasant contradiction in that it is an unhurried, languid collection of music, but not one which is at all difficult or daunting to get into. Nor does it ever feel laboured or drag at any point.

The list of reasons to be angry have grown exponentially in the brief intervening period, so it only makes sense that Mirror is the way it is. Staring into the abyss is rarely this stupefying and spectacular.

The orchestra tries so desperately to stage this cool retro show, but there are so many glaring holes in the script.

The real talking point is the poise with which Honeyblood have carried off a record on which they seem to have so completely trusted their instincts.

This is Crimes refined, sculpted so that its edges aren’t as jagged as many sound-clashes past have proved to be; it exhibits managed eccentricity enough to stoke the furnaces of intelligent, demand-more punks worldwide.

Not a bad album, just a boring one.

The Kills are back - still covered in dirt, sleaze and reverb, but with a cleaner, softer centre.

As with every Au Revoir Simone record, it's so easy to sling your headphones on and find yourself swept up in the music.

Do It Again is eccentric and ends too quickly, but those considerations pale next to the fact that within less than half an hour, Robyn and Röyksopp go from eyeing each other with genuine suspicion to sounding as if they’ve never been apart.

All things considered, this is a record of high quality, and a vehicle for a storyteller of uncommon faculty.

If Cathal Cully's aim was to leave the past behind then he's succeeded resoundingly, and created one of this year's most ungainly beautiful records in the process.

Amidst the madness of Oneohtrix Point Never’s music, these are songs that hit the core of humanity and therein lie their beauty.

Everyday Robots is a lovely record, and in its lack of duds or whimsical twattery it’s probably one of most consistent things Albarn has ever put his name to. That doesn't make it the best, though: it doesn't take risks--not by Albarn’s standards, anyway--and in the most literal sense it's not all that exciting.

For those who have heretofore found Harcourt to be a little too melodramatic, this is likely the album that will have them reconsider his work. We all need a little romance, and so much the better when it's delivered with a bit of knowing quirk.

While The Hold Steady haven't made a bad album this time, they haven't made a really good one either. It's a good album with some problems.

Ultimately, there is a familiarity to In Mind which for some may seem a little too much of the same from this now 'veteran' band, but as with every Real Estate record, their collective ears for little surprising turns and touches in amongst their overall pleasing sound, is still impressive, eight years on.

As a second album, it is perfectly acceptable and there are many aspects of it to admire. But the static present on much of Ceremonials cannot quantify the record as anything but a regression in broader terms.

Where Future Perfect knocked us right off our feet, Transit Transit doesn't seem to have the energy to even push us slightly to the left. We miss 2004's Autolux.

Talkie Walkie is a startling and beautiful record, as curious and timeless as Moon Safari and as intelligent and listenable as any of the year’s best records.

It’s an oddball groove-rock album, played very well, imprinted with Homme's undeniably interesting personality. Yet when all’s said and done, it's not particularly memorable and entirely lacks the type of yee-haw exuberance that might have made it a sloppy treat.

Knoxville goes some way towards capturing the evident chemistry they found together, whilst also making it clear that we really need to catch them live to experience the full effect.

With Evil Spirits, you have to halt, to concentrate entirely to absorb the main message. Close your eyes; and it’s a politically charged electro-pop-rock love-spell to our tumultuous political times--but without the band’s names on the front, you wouldn’t even begin to place which dimension this demon came from.

As extraordinary and original as the film itself, Berberian Sound Studio is both a bona fide film score and consistent electronica album, and in the wake of Trish Keenan's tragic death carries the very real air of a requiem.

Yes, this thing is ridiculously derivative. It won't change lives or rearrange the musical landscape of nations but Kahn was never going to win any awards for originality. It may just raise some roofs and shake some foundations though.

The thing is absolutely laced with wall-to-wall bangers.

Hera Ma Nono still possesses an often awkward transition between the jarring Kenyan and North American influences, but this also essentially provides Extra Golden with their character.

It’s certainly a digression from what they could easily have done, and that was something they, obviously, really needed and wanted to do. But it also feels like a regression from the promise and charm that they once exuded.

The album never fully soars either imaginatively or musically, and for all the virtues of its crisp, bold path through the blood and ice of wherever Edenloff is in flight from – or towards – this means that it's a disappointment.

While they may never lose their tendency to peek over their shoulders and tell of the heart-filling past once in a while, and nor should they, it seems that Allo Darlin’ have decided that a step forward can bring a greater, more tangible joy, and for that, they should surely be celebrated.

Many Moons then, proves that the 'bad front-man solo project' curse isn’t particularly watertight. En-debut, Martin Courtney comes through with a record that’s as good as any he’s made with his band.

It's immensely listenable throughout, but at its best--with 'Vistate' and 'Cara Falsa'--it's truly spellbinding.

Glasvegas maybe won't change lives but with its rich indie wall-of-sound nostalgia trip, it should get a few kids delving through their influences and forming space-rock bands.

The sound of a band still in their creative prime, MMXII is everything Killing Joke have proclaimed themselves to be these past three-and-a-half decades, and 15 albums on is just as incisive and coarse as their debut.

It's still discernibly a James Yorkston record, and full of what you'd expect from one, but there's enough shading in the corners and drawing over the lines to add new sparks of interest.

Emotional, great and exhausting.

After multiple listens, the desire to rip apart Martin-McCormick's stitched together freak is assuaged by a desire to submit to it and play it on repeat, to revel in its drive, energy and emotion.

Some of these stories are not fleshed out as poetic or romantic as the music might suggest, yet it’s forgivable in the sense that Cigarettes After Sex successfully transport you to an erotic world entirely their own.

Indeed, they can rock. But, inevitably, their writing here lacks the epic imagery and themes that cemented the rock gods into the canon, and thus doesn’t bewitch in the same way. Black Mountain defend the temple ably, at least.

It's jolly and kinetic and greater than the sum of its songs.

Adele’s repetition is anchored further by some of the least dynamic work of her career. There’s nothing here to rival the playful malice of ‘Rumour Has It’ or the instant hit of ‘Rolling In The Deep’.

Matt Caughthran's vocals have never been stronger, more melodic or capable of holding centre stage. Yet coupled with the slicker sheen to the LP (self-made in their new home studio) it has pushed some of their material into territories traditionally inhabited by the totally underwhelming.

Loss flows through The Rhumb Line's veins, ineffable but vital. Someday I'm sure I'll turn to this record for consolation, and for that I'm both sad and grateful.

Röyksopp have always married darkness to their beats, but here, across more than an hour, it’s too unremitting to welcome repeat listening.

Humbug is a pretty good album that’s pleasingly incongruous amongst the pre-fab boredom of much modern Brit indie. It’s eminently not astounding but it is inventive, and likeably so.

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.

The problem, though, is that you rather get the impression that Daltrey, with his contributions, is merely filling the role of high-profile vocalist; he’s got a great rock voice, but it’s ultimately it’s not diverse enough to do Johnson’s blues-based back catalogue justice.

Ever changing and insightful, Arms Around A Vision never becomes staid or complacent.

The strongest chunk of the album comes not in the first third, but in the stream of songs that starts with ‘Out On the Street’, ‘Take It Easy’ and ends with the final track.

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.

On one end, it sounds like a straightforward film score. In another instance, it's perfect headphone music for self-study or personal contemplation.

PJ Harvey can be exhilarating, thrilling, or offer up a disturbingly hysterical variant on black humour, but she ain't fun. A Woman A Man Walked By is kinda, sorta fun.

Play might be a bit of a thrown together casserole of tracks, but it's an enjoyable one that only the coldest hipster would begrudge the Brewises.

Whether it is a sense of longing or nostalgia at stake, Moon Tides is a solid, inebriating listen that will guide you through your personal transitions and leave you wanting for more.

Lush, cathartic and surprisingly brief, Promise Everything is the record that makes good on everything Further Sky promised.

Sodium does slay. But Dasher whizz through in such a hardcore blur, that the highlights of the album get buried in the carnage.

It's a record that certainly stands up to comparison with their previous outings - sometimes bettering them--and, if you've been seduced by their charms in the past, be prepared to fall in lust all over again.

Preteen Weaponry’s psychedelic rout may be far from their finest hour, but it serves to remind all that these jesters should belong as part of the furniture.

With Digital Garage, Mudhoney have provided the noise-escape of the year. The war may never be won, but at least now we’ve got somewhere to hide when it all gets a bit much.

Some listeners may lament this retreat from the hefty barrage of sound that was 2009's Farm, but it is crucial that a band such as this progresses and varies itself, and it is somewhat adorable that J is loosely retreading the road that his group took beforehand, only this time he is doing it the right way, with his pals Lou and Murph along for the ride.

The overall sound of The Foley Room is unquestionably Tobin's, even though it sounds like a step forward rather than a re-tread.

Pictured on the album’s cover taking aim at a heart-shaped pinata, Thao once again sings in a way that conveys both breathless astonishment and world-weary wisdom.

Occasionally they over-indulge, and it’s certainly not their best LP, but it's easy to forgive them given the obvious love that’s contained within the tracks here.

It’s from this multi-layered hive of instrumentation and exquisite verb-spouting though where ExitingARM begins to flourish.

Fortunately, the role of curator suits Cunningham's talents, and despite the choppy mixing and non-continuous programming, DJ-Kicks never feels as alienating and outright strange as some of his past mixes.

Youth Novels is a twinkle-toed debut that dares to suggest what others can only make tediously plain, and leaves us in the rarely-enjoyed position of actually wanting more.

This is a solid collection of pop-tunes, but not for connoisseurs.

A Bureaucratic Desire For Extra-Capsular Extraction is yet more proof that Earth were, and indeed still are, vitally different to so much of what's come before them, after them and even surrounded them.

Some of the characters created here are more fully formed than others.

Although it falls a few steps shy of wowing unreservedly, The Knot remains a poised and compelling second album.

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

Ultimately, Sex & Food is a very impressive record from not only Nielsen but also just to possess during these troubling times. There’s a lot to be scared about right now, but there’s also a lot out there to love, and thanks to UMO, we now have a soundtrack for that.

What makes the largest impression though, as ever, is Darnielle's ability to build the most affecting of scenes from the smallest suggestion.

When it's at its best, After Roberts harbours a brave sense of adventurism, a fearless experimentalism. And yes, it can sound like a million other things. But more often that not, it's just the glorious sound of nothing else.

Crosseyed Heart will serve as proof that it ain’t Keef who’s over the hill.

The imagery threaded throughout is at once arresting and functions on multiple levels, but perhaps its greatest achievements arrive in the form of songs like ‘Double Life’ and, pertinently, ‘You Are Your Mother’s Child’.

Intense, cutting and clever, this is an album that unfolds at a near blistering pace.

In the hands of a different producer maybe the material assembled for When The Devil's Loose could step forward into something more Technicolor, as its faults are minor, but they are the faults which separate merely pleasant albums from great ones. As it is, When The Devil’s Loose is the former.

Love Yes feels like a radical step forward for the Brooklyn-based group. It’s a coming of age struggle wrapped in the slick, veneer of Eighties glamour, and ultimately TEEN’s synth-pop dreams are hard to beat.

Save Rock and Roll isn't life or game changing but it's probably the album FOB needed to make--if only for themselves--and as an honest portrait of the roller-coaster ride that is FOB's career, it finds them on a high.

One of the most assured, unashamedly danceable albums that we’ve heard for quite a while.

Once again, Kanye has released music filled with contradictions and confusion. Once again, it’s like nothing heard before. Once again, it’s good to have him back.

All in all, Wide Open demonstrates a band in transition. Methinks, overall, Burke and her motley crew are headed the right way in their conflicted and thus accurate portrayal of our tangled ids, egos, and libidos.

Cupid Deluxe is arguably Hynes' finest work and an improvement on his debut release but he shouldn't be afraid to place himself centre stage instead of hiding behind a host of guest appearances.

While Universes never quite reaches the heights that might be sought by this confident-sounding producer, there can be no denying that this is one of 2015’s boldest electronic releases, and that it deserves to be one of its foremost too.

Consolers of the Lonely is often grotesquely overblown despite moments of genuine excitement.

The contrasting movements, the peaks and troughs, the brightness and darkness and the intensity and calmness allow you room to think and to breathe. Triangle is truly massive and mesmerising.

Whatever looming shadow might darken your homeland, Music for the Long Emergency offers a substantive retreat, with enough room for minds to rest and wander in peace.

To be blunt though, for all the great literary and musical figures involved, the result of this creative vision sounds more or less the same as the music Natalie Merchant has been making for her whole solo career. Only more boring.