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.

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.

The album as a whole is amongst the best showcases of her piano work because she allows herself to meander about the keyboard and never lets production to drown it out.

With Foxhole, The Proper Ornaments often make going through the motions sound like some revelatory train of thought.

Cells is coherent, yet not without the odd welcome respite or a few anomalies.

K-the-I??? makes bold steps alongside the likes of Saul Williams, emanating poetic flamboyance without becoming too confusing, but with enough (e)motion and kinetic verve to satisfy even the most passive ear.

The opaque nature of Family makes it seem like a prime candidate for remixes with a touch more bite, but as it is, this is a record to fill those times when Panda Bear seems just a little too raucous.

It would appear then that Callahan’s soul, like everyone else’s, is still up for grabs, but until the next record indicates what direction he’s decided to take or what road events have forced him down, Rough Travel For a Rare Thing is a darkly beautiful reflection of the continuing struggle.

And there's a pleasing strand of experimentation running through The Fragile Army that, even though it could have been developed slightly further, suggests that the Spree are more than a one-trick, um, choir.

It is the band’s frontwoman whose personality is carried in the weight of this release--delicately cryptic lyrics screamed with a force that betrays the fact they're either complete trash or wilfully personal.

Dead may not improve on Dying’s blueprint, but it is far more than just an interesting experiment. It rigidly follows the band’s self-sabotaging ethic, whilst giving genuinely imaginative versions of songs that were never meant to be remixed.

Throughout Europe, they manage to make that sound like a pretty nice place to be, and also serve a timely reminder that there's life in such a simple but effective style of music.

A Small Turn Of Human Kindness really does sound like some bad shit has gone down. To this end, you have to assume HM have succeeded in their intentions, although they tend to be sardonic and inscrutable by design.

Whether or not the album really captures the bands reputable live show is utterly debatable, but it’s certainly one to inspire the imagination.

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.

Marshall has created an album with a nuance and polish she didn’t have in her early days of just her and her guitar. Even if the territory is somewhat familiar, she’s never made an album quite like this before.

With Champ they have rekindled the catchiness and immediacy of their first offering.

It will not blow you away and, though well balanced, it's not a 'dipper' in that proceedings are constant and hand-picking the best selections does a disservice to the remainder, which complete a strong but not astounding record.

It's been nearly two decades at the top for this seminal hip hop group, and on this evidence they show no signs of losing their edge.

Moore is a collage artist of the highest, silliest, most joyful degree--and as he pulls together strands of strange, whisps of weird, odours of otherness you’ll be compelled to dig, dig deeper into the man’s psyche and back catalogue. And be rightly, wrongly rewarded.

It hardly makes for the most exciting record of the year.... But it is clearly a very accomplished album.

It’s easy to see them as a very promising one act; a band taking familiar styles and crafting them into a memorable, accessible whole, with a strong stream of creativity flowing throughout.

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.

As an album to invest in, feel sentimental about, or be genuinely thrilled by, Ultraviolence falls short. Take it simply as a sumptuously-presented pop record, though, and you have to wonder if you’ll hear a better one this year.

Keeping a band going for 25 years is no easy task, and there’s not many in the world who can still keep pushing forwards, but without losing what it is about them that’s so unique. Tortoise manage that weirdness, that jazz infused strangeness, and that downright groove that they’ve always traded in, but re-mould it for 2016.

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.

Unplugged is another in a very long line of R.E.M. live releases you wouldn’t exactly call essential, if only because they set the bar so high with their concert films Tour Film and Road Movie. But things don’t have to be essential to be worth owning.

Maybe at some points the eastern influences are more prominent, on tracks like 'Panic In Babylon', but on the whole it's classic BJM.

In this debut, she emerges fully-formed yet ethereal, a spirit slipping between silky and sassy, between clattering beats and electro grinds.

Three albums in, and the four folks who identify as Terry continue to defy simple categories, even when their zigzag pop songs take you for a leisurely cruise.

Stripped bare of anything other than Stevens’ voice, a guitar and a slightly imperfect recording, their power and beauty still shine through. The added bells-and-whistles of remixes and alternate versions are an interesting side-note, sure, but still, in the end, lead you back to the original album in all its complex, bruised and beautiful glory.

This is by far The White Stripes’ most peculiar record.

Sixes & Sevens might be a drawn-out mess, but break it down to its constituent parts and you suddenly have rich pickings for the perfect mix-tape.

It's not an album that will be remembered for its songs, but it's coherent enough as a whole to make up for that. In 2016, it's refreshing to indulge in a collection of songs that work best when they're heard all together.

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.

As a whole, Heavy Ghost is considerably subtler even than "The Crying Light."

Overall, Wildness is a really great comeback record. There are a few dud tracks in there, especially in the first half of the album, but these are more than compensated for by the excellence of the remainder of the record.

It’s not they’ve gone back on themselves or regressed; it’s just that Band of Horses have naturally, and happily, managed to wind their way back home.

Galore is an odd proposition for a debut album. It feels more transitional than a definitive statement of who Thumpers are, and that’s a hugely exciting thing.

The midas pop touch that ran through 1989, on which she struck the perfect balance between her past and present selves, is lacking here; she’s sacrificed some of it for such a wholesale acceptance of current pop trappings. What’s refreshing about Reputation, though, is that she’s no holding holding the mask so tightly to her face.

The lack of any real experimentation does mean that it fails to match the very best of the Joan Of Arc, but the consistency and restraint on display puts Life Like in a lot, lot better light then some of the group's hugely varied output

What Another One does provide--in abundance--is proof that DeMarco has the songwriting chops to back up his reputation as one of indie rock’s last true characters.

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.

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.

The songs are little self-contained vignettes about various characters and their journeys, resembling campfire or drinking songs. Some are really bland and instantly forgettable, others--really poetic and imaginative.

For completists Obscurities is a must. For Magnetic Fields fans it's a worthwhile starting point for Stephin Merritt's other projects. For newcomers, start with 69 Love Songs and come back when you've fallen in love with everything else.

As an album King Animal remains a somewhat numbing listen, its components, as excellent as they individually often are, making for a rather wearing collective, undeniably muscular but curiously unmemorable.

Whether this collection of 12 new versions, five of which have been heard before, works as a coherent album is open to debate. There can be no denying, however, that all of them honour the vision of The Race for Space in its original form.

Having heard Taylor's fingerprints over a dozen fine records, it's great to finally hear one that he can call his own.

Original? No. Enjoyable? Yep.

It's a scatterbrainedness that makes Girls endearing and frustrating at the same time, and it's pertinent to remember that Elvis Costello often sang about more than just girls. Still, it's hard to begrudge a band their niche when they do it so well.

Guider is an intriguing, viscerally stirring study in contemporary post-punk that holds attention like a fox in a headlight beam.

A beautiful, touching collection of songs, and one which marks an important rite of passage in one man’s career, even if it doesn’t always feel like his best work.

While Mug Museum is probably Cate le Bon’s weakest collection of songs, it’s nonetheless a great refinement of her recent artistic development, a typically rewarding showcase of gutsy eccentricity, and the promise of more satisfying material to come.

Though refreshingly bold at key moments, Brighter Wounds still doesn’t challenge itself enough to be considered a radical and departure from its predecessors.

An experiment in style that is perhaps a little confusing at first; but more than makes up for it in its grace.

Despite the self-therapy and tonal lulls, Christopher is a highly listenable affair that produces two truly outstanding moments.

Close to the Glass isn't quite the luxurious auditory and emotional jacuzzi the Notwist's albums have been in the past. It's more a wading pool made of obligation and diffidence.

It's damn smart and it's damn catchy.

It’s Gengahr's commitment to weirdness on A Dream Outside that puts them many streets ahead.

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

Modular Living represents a visionary and varied sonic palette befitting of its influences.

It's very odd, varies wildly in tone and has its fair share of clunky bits, but it's all done in the spirit of fun and is always endearingly sincere.

Though few would have predicted this unlikely pairing and even less would have actively willed it to happen, the fact is that Smith & Burrows have forged a handsome partnership.

Ester doesn't quite have a narrow enough scope for us to be able to say that Trailer Trash Tracys have a sound that's all their own, but they're close to finding their voice, and with a little more refinement it will come out, not loudly, but clearly.

A Long Place To Fall might not be outlandish enough to acquire Ulrich Schnauss an entire new legion of fans, but those discovering him for the first time could find far worse places to start.

For the most part, In•ter a•li•a is content to exist as a barrage--add ‘Call Broken Arrow’ to the ‘confirmed belter’ list--and almost never strays into more experimental territory as explored by The Mars Volta. There is one sort-of exception, however, in the form of ‘Ghost-Tape No. 9.’

Through his Tindersticks outlet - now a staggering 18 years young--has created a record that certainly rivals, if not betters any of its three predecessors from the past decade.

His songs are chiefly good, and there's little more you want of a loose garage punk rock record than that.

Dessner has captured performances that have a depth, a soul, a reality to them. Even if you hate country, this is downright good music.

It can be a slightly heavy listen but when you’re as good at it as he is, it is fine to embrace it.

A darkly glistening, deeply attractive and unexpectedly intelligent use of the album as storytelling device.

Both dream-like and slightly brutal in its approach, Ash Wednesday is a rare folk-rock LP, drenched in equal parts sunshine and cloudy grey skies.

Following on from last year's EP1, this a tougher, leaner Pixies than that of their classic era, missing some of the ramshackle charm on which their most well known work floated.

Foreign Born feel like they should have more staying power, even if there’s less flash.

If All My Friends Are Funeral Singers has said one thing at all to me, it’s that Califone merit further investigation, especially for someone who tends to write off ‘folk’ music. And if that doesn’t make it a success, then I don’t know what does.

The lines referenced in the album’s title are not the kind to restrict or limit. They’re the kind to follow. The lines of an open road, rich with possibilities and rife with unanswered questions. Though whether the road is in this reality or another, remains to be seen.

If it's not a masterwork it's an evocative accompaniment to a summer's day, a sporadic but persuasive reminder of how spine-tingling Albarn's voice can be, and yet another musical genre ticked off his list with studious accomplishment and loving care.

Anyone looking for all of the above is not going to be disappointed by Something Dirty, which contains more than its fair share of mischief and mayhem. Crucially, it's in keeping with Faust tradition, but it always looks forward rather than back.

Perhaps it doesn’t thrill the same way his younger records thrilled with their wiliness and exuberance; but perhaps it was disillusioned by that type of thrill, and elected for something a little more reliable.

These tracks might frequently sound like the frameworks of songs yet to be written, or the initial throbs of melodies yet to be crafted, but the earnestness and warmth of the thing succeeds in making the record almost as addictive and loveable to hear as it clearly was to perform.

Maui Tears is a distinct return to form and one that reaffirms Sleepy Sun as a genuine force to be reckoned with.

Whilst good still, with Bloom comes the first seeds of doubt that maybe there isn't actually much below the surface--albeit it for many that's probably the source of their allure.

The music is often troubling--as well it should be, given the context--but ultimately it is a trenchantly human record that is sweepingly cinematic in scope.

It starts with impressive gusto but meanders towards the end, drifting into slow, forgettable balladry.

The Age Of The Understatement is as solid an idea in execution as it is in concept; a record unafraid to reach beyond its obvious limitations and produce a swashbuckling end result that might even broaden a few horizons for fans and players alike.

The carnival-esque, unsettling vibe permeating forms both its strong appeal and sometime downfall, as sustaining momentum at the pace O’Death strive to can prove alienating. Peppered with stark imagery and carried off with consummate musical skill however, for the most part it’s utterly absorbing.

Whilst it in no way compares with the leap in ambition we saw between his first two albums, The 20/20 Experience is nonetheless another interesting inter-genre move, this time into alternative R&B and neo-soul.

At its best Sound & Color is very strong indeed.... Elsewhere it can be a little business-as-usual.

This album is a reminder of the healing power of three dweebs, or how much fun it would be to watch Brian Wilson getting caught in a triangle of punk.

Its one-noted nature will make it difficult for anyone outside of genre fans to want to reach out over and encourage a crossover appeal in the way that, say, Touche Amore have managed. It certainly is an impressive genre album with enough little touches to keep it distinct and interesting.

...And Then We Saw Land is a satisfying addition to the Tunng canon and is one which proves them distinctive enough in their own right that the only label they need be tagged with is simply that of 'Tunng'.

Whether this latest release is merely another development or a sign of things to come, it is their most beguiling collection of songs for a number of years, a labour of love, and a record that that deserves more exposure than it's probably going to get.

While not quite on a par with the band's self-titled debut album, [it] still stands up quite proudly alongside anything else it's curators have recorded either as The House Of Love or any subsequent solo projects.

If you are willing to be patient it offers more surprises than you'd expect, flourishing on repeated plays.

Telling Tales gladly succumbs to its own whimsy, has no stylistic compass beyond the inherent tones of a female vocal harmony group and is a delightful series of songs that are both beautiful and bizarre.

Alegrias never sips the same poison for any length of time, like a cocktail that doesn't care how it gets drunk. It should be noted that like anything meant to satisfy innumerable tastes, Alegrias is likely to impress and frustrate in equal measure.

This is not an easy album to listen to and digest. It is all the better for it.