Pe’ahi is an uneven reinvention, but it’s a brave one, too--the manner of its release isn't the only surprise that comes with it.

In principal this is another finely crafted record in the vein of much that has been released by Neurosis since 2000. The problem is that what sounded so exciting during that vital three album run identified earlier was never going to have the same impact today.

Angel tells a story but it's nothing you haven't heard before.

There are passages of relative inaction in the music, while Frahm gives the narrative momentum its space. But happily, not only does this create what’s probably a remarkably well judged score which neither overpowers nor outperforms a film it’s supposed to be complimenting, it also results in a strong stand-alone mood piece, thoroughly deserves to be heard by all of his admirers.

For the most part, Evertything Ecsatic succeeds, but occasionally Hebden strays from the path.

Certainly no misnomered record, Extra Playful sounds more fun, excited and full of joie de vivre than anything else in Cale's extensive discography.

One Breath benefits from its variety and from a taste for experimentation which, striking subtle chords that invite the listener to stay and revisit.

Sex With an X exceeds all of the expectations we didn't know we had.

In terms of vulnerability, adrenaline-overdrive and frivolous riffing, however, II is firing on all cylinders.

However, as difficult second albums go; and given the circumstances Something emerged from, difficult would be the operative word; Chairlift can be proud at what they've accomplished.

The version of the band audible on their second album is one that's on a sugar high and fuelled by a desire to create loud and fast music that doesn't skimp on the hooks.

Cape Dory is a more than satisfactory introduction to the world of Tennis and their travels, and perhaps unintentionally, one of the more unique additions to the current penchant for all things lo-fi in a Spectoresque kind of way.

An unexpected treat.

Going forward, The Molochs may want to deviate a bit from the formula they used on America’s Velvet Glory, which gets pretty well worn even though the record is fairly compact at only 11 tracks, but it works well as both a cohesive throwback and a character study.

Rivers and his Weezer buddies are oddballs but finally they're our oddballs and Hurley more than makes up for sticking by their side through one of the rockiest relationships in recent indie rock history.

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.

Despite the album peaking early, though, there's more than enough evidence here to suggest that Hauschka, thrillingly, is just getting into his stride.

It's Central Market, his second full solo release, that sees him coming of age in a manner that befits the familial myth.

More often than not though, Seasick Steve is just as fun, lively and instantly likeable as ever.

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.

It's those thematic ideas of self-worth and pride that beget the sort of personal, intimate relationship that we've come to recognise in the music of many of the Erased Tapes family over the last five years, and that's something that will always be worth hearing.

As is often the way with collections of B-sides, EP remixes and rarities, The Juan Maclean's Everybody Get Close is a mixed bag featuring some very lofty highs and a whole bunch of stuff that the world probably never cried out for, but will be more than happy to have gleaned as a result.

Though the songs are both numerous and short, they’re mostly a solitary musical idea that tends not to be explored too far, well done as it might be.

Hearing rappers coming from this musical sphere is a refreshing novelty however, and the record is definitely one of the most interesting, if not exceptional things to emerge this year.

Unfortunately, though, almost a third of the album is devoted to namby-pamby ballads which, stripped of the band’s trademark sugary hooks, sound truly wispy by proportion.

There is never a singular anecdote or scheme with Kozelek, as he bounces around from topic to topic, providing a kaleidoscope of information in one song.

With a greater use of the minor key, he's added flecks of sentiment to what is, predominantly, a very solid pop record. Just don't get bogged down in genre compartmentalisation.

This is the sound of a band fired-up and focused, and the result is a Darkness album to be proud of.

Music for Drifters definitely represents a diversion from whatever constitutes Field Music’s ‘normal’ work, but it’s also an unquestionably lovely addition to their impeccable discography.

As much of a cliché as it is, you're either going to love Allen or hate her.

Predictably there’s a slide towards more abstracted material toward the latter half, and parts of Saturdays=Youth are all hairspray and no body, but the whole thing sweeps along with such an irrepressible mix of youthful invincibility (‘We Own The Sky’) and flouncing fatalism (‘Too Late’, ‘Graveyard Girl’) it sucks the wind right out of your cheeks before you’ve had chance to huff.

Despite an opening volley that suggests Ghandi himself would have felt the urge to tell Passion Pit to stop being so bloody silly come the end, it finds a slightly more meaningful note surprisingly soon.

It's a more than satisfactory return for a band whose live performances this past couple of years suggest they're here for the long haul rather than any financially induced pangs of sentiment or nostalgia, and if Content is anything to by, one suspects the Gang Of Four's creative tank is far from empty

All are decent enough but, when placed alongside the album's standout moments, they aren't quite as dazzling. Not like that really matters though, because there are standouts throughout.

[A] charming if slight collection, still worthy of your time, and not just to hear the aching, unfulfilled potential.

There may be nothing here that pricks emotion like ‘When An Old Cricketer Leaves The Crease’ and this may not be the truly brazen, bold Harper of the Seventies but it’s a record of reflection, of experimentation, sometimes of egotism, often of near-mystical sadness.

I'm Bad Now delivers throughout its 11, mostly restrained pieces in a way that highlights Chapman's exquisite prowess for astute observational prose.

This is a challenging listen, the rewards often buried, but they are there.

This is a challenge of an album, a challenging listen, but an album with plenty of soul.

Minor criticisms aside, this is elegant dreampop at its finest, and a worthy introduction to the incandescent world of Snowbird.

There’s less freewheeling improvisational spirit than perhaps you’d expect, instead there’s a real desire to cast a mood, one of optimism and warmth, The whole experience feels nourishing.

Throughout the record the ooo-oooh swoopiness is enchanting and the constant SNES-soundtrack bubblings take you back to a simpler, more tranquil and ultimately a place filled with hope.

When it works, Long Black Cars condenses the finest elements of The Wave Pictures into some impressive moments.

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

The one slight that could be pinned on the The Hungry Saw is that there’s very little here that couldn’t slot seamlessly into any of the group’s output over the last 16 years.

Above all and aside from the frustrations, the album is a well-crafted beast, beautifully constructed.

It’s very difficult to do anything new in psych but with their energy and enthusiasm, not to mention some interesting work with electronics, Wand have managed to bring a surprisingly entertaining offering to the genre.

It's an album of razor-sharp irreverence, infectious energy and, beneath its surface, genuinely intelligent songwriting.

Pretty much everything about Jens except the scale of his melodies is gentle and unassuming, and there is a quiet honesty here that is unique pleasure.

There's a lot here to admire: the songs are well-formed and consistently engaging.

Tiny Rebels sees Kelly test the boundaries of his own artistry, exploring whether something small--be that a solo act, a straightforward melody, a single thought, or even a collection of six songs--can transcend to become something greater than itself.

Despite the nature of the record it's never a self-indulgent or forlorn listen, jumping from one emotion to the next, all the while held together by some truly excellent musicianship and wry Scottish lyrics.

While The Eraser might not be a genre-busting classic like Kid A or OK Computer it's a good, solid record nonetheless.

There might be less going on than with the cut-and-paste stuff elsewhere, but ironically that makes these tracks seem like most fully formed moments here, the points of contrast which, as with all successful collages, make The Way Out work as a whole.

It is a ‘safe’ record, one that plays to its makers’ long-established strengths without really stretching them--but fans of all the aforementioned predecessors are certain to find much to love across these 13 tracks.

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.

Taylor Swift may not be challenging societal norms in the same way as Beyoncé, Lady Gaga and my own band CHRIST ALIVE are, but she’s relatable and that counts for a lot. I spent a surprising amount of 1989 rooting for its protagonist and sharing in her triumph.

Excellent Italian Greyhound is everything you’d want from a new Shellac record - terrific-sounding, expertly performed and gleefully atonal as ever, but it’s live that this legendary three-piece’s performance art really comes to life as more than the sum of its casually-displayed parts.

The mish-mash of styles on Dead makes for a globalised texture, an eclecticism that appears to know no bounds. For some, it may all be a little too much to handle. But if you’re looking for a thoroughly twenty-first-century record that’ll challenge your preconceptions and bombard the senses, then Dead is something that’s definitely worth your while.

That this split LP showcases is two bands from different cities, on different labels and of a largely different generation of musicians--yet it's unified and generally very good throughout.

In its lack of cleverness, the album has a certain wide-eyed innocence, and even the songs about hangovers show a generous perspective on life, of which music critics could do well to take note.

Ghostpoet’s vocals are delivered in a consistent, mumbled, emotionally-drained understatement throughout, lending the album a sense of authenticity that it could not survive without.

Like their previous records, Decency is at its best when Heartstrings are indulging their knack for straight up, grin-on-its-face pop music.

Honey is a fine record, a consistent record and a thoroughly enjoyable record. But it is not a great record, and in comparison with the standard she has set for herself previously, this is a mild (though fleeting) disappointment. That said, there is still a clear and beating heart here and the sheer humanity of Robyn’s musical soul remains one of the most beautiful things in contemporary music.

It's not a completely successful experiment, but Le Noise is certainly an important moment in Neil Young's ongoing story.

Sonically the songs are strong.

Each track is well structured and well-executed; never staying for longer than it should do or even doing anything on the whole that it shouldn't.

What's striking from the outset about Hymns is that little has changed in Davies and Matthews' elegant world of classically-inspired chamber pop.

The first half of the album is characterised by high energy, fast-paced songs, best shown by raucous singalong ‘All This Way’ and ‘Getting Along’. At points these are in danger of blurring into each other but I think this may just be because of the specific order they’re listed in. ... The second half of the record is quieter, with a more musing outlook.

As a collection of songs and sentiments there is a nagging sense that Dulli is revisiting old haunts. Yet it feels reassuring, as Dynamite Steps continues the resurgent course he's been treading in recent years.

Whatever one makes of the songs presented here, at least we should all be able to agree that another addition to Cave’s legendary, beyond comparison catalogue is in itself enough of a reason to feel very satisfied.

Metz keep consistently ticking along and will always be a welcome addition to any year's new releases, regardless of whether they're the most original band in the world and Strange Peace does nothing to disavow that.

Although La Grande is no huge departure from what Gibson has been practicing for years, it's a wholesome and welcome addition to a back-catalogue which has very few flaws, even if the moments which stand up and make you take notice are not numerous.

This is the richest, most musically complex she has ever been.

While (the album) tips far more convincingly on the successful end of the scales, there remains the sense of a band playing safer than needs be; a sextet pushing against their limits but never straining outright at them.

The Thermals are still a band in awkward transition resulting in a record that is reliably good by their own decent standards, but which fails to fulfil its very apparent potential to be great.

Judy Sucks A Lemon For Breakfast is a vibrant collection of songs that further illustrates the importance of Cornershop over the past two decades.

Whilst at times the melodies feel frail, and it seems to struggle with a slight lack of something musically, at others the album is triumphant, with complex, brilliant pop songs about that age old theme, heartbreak.

There's a definite identity to the band on this third album, and its highest points are some of the highest of the band's career thus far, but to this listener, the band lack the kind of killer edge displayed by newer challengers to the retro-rock throne, such as San Francisco's Wooden Shjips. That said, if you like the influences clearly on display, there's little to fault, and plenty of fuzzy swagger to bask in.

Although this doesn't quite scale the heights of their two previous LPs, "Death Is This Communion" and "Blessed Black Wings," it shouldn't be thought of as a point of no return. As ambassadors for metal, they remain near-peerless.

Ordinary Corrupt Human Love is a waypoint in an increasingly divided world of niche cultures and categorisations, and it’ll capture the imaginations of those secure outside their comfort zones while further alienating detractors. Mission accomplished.

In spite of In Dream’s polite frills, big crowdpleasers, and abstract ideals, Editors still hold fast to a sense of self that throbs harder than ever.

If you’re a Dinosaur Jr fan and you can live without a couple of Lou Barlow tracks per album then it would be well worth checking out Elastic Days and hearing J do what he does best in a slightly different setting.

The result is a bright and breezy album that’s easy to like, even if Dawn’s palpable enthusiasm does occasionally tip over into being cloying.

It’s not the Arctic Monkeys you might expect, and living inside Alex Turner’s identity crisis can be an occasionally uncomfortable experience, but give it some time and this sixth album reveals itself as one of the most interesting of the band’s career.

his is The Veils as you would expect to find them, untroubled too much by changes to their formula. And that’s just the way that most of their loyal fans would probably want it.

What Neufeld shows again in The Ridge is that the violin and her superbly expressive playing is more than enough to make for a great record but it shows this at the expense of making the other elements thrown in occasionally feel superfluous or underdeveloped by contrast.

There’s a difference between original and interesting, though, and there’s plenty of the band’s own identity on Cursing the Sea, which marks the start of what could yet be a tremendous 2014 for the quintet in deliciously dark fashion.

I Don’t Want to Let You Down as a whole serve only to fuel, rather than dent, the anticipation that Are We There rightly stoked.

He trusts in the strength of his lived-in arrangements and, on another album of beautifully detailed folk songs, he’s absolutely right to do so.

Transgender Dysphoria Blues demands a more visceral reaction than mere respect. These songs have just as much heart as they do guts, and the LP stands as Against Me!’s first forward looking album since Searching For A Former Clarity.

It’s also not a record where you’re instantly gripped round the neck, it’s more a gradual clamping before nails start to dig deep into the skin.

If you can get on board with Harvey's uniquely theatrical songwriting style, then there's a prismatic world of life, love, indulgence, abandonment, betrayal, and ultimately, death in this record. Sadly, for those of you happier to be six months clear of pantomime season, it's maybe a struggle to appreciate these songs as much more than histrionic fiction.

Despite its supernatural setting and modern day political commentary, you get the sense that Yorke remains hopeful amongst the darkness. Perhaps this is down to age, perhaps it’s some sort of foolishness--but the optimism never completely fades from Suspiria and gives it a human quality that is not immediately obvious amidst the Seventies synths and modal incantations.

There are moments where the live dynamics allow the songs to hit a few more buttons than the studio recordings did, but ultimately it was an overwhelmingly visual show and it feels like everything here is lacking its USP, no matter how good it is.

It may not quite equal Person Pitch or Tomboy, but in its own way could prove to be even more important for Noah Lennox.

Made In The Dark must rank as something of a missed opportunity, but as a bigger, bolder (if overlong) follow-up to a deservedly popular second album, they’ve succeeded admirably.

No Mythologies to Follow is perhaps better taken as a really strong collection of singles (or potential singles) than a complete body of work, but that’s its only real weakness.