Although largely interchangeable with its predecessors, Cloak and Cipher still sounds fresh enough to please Land of Talk loyalists, and engaging enough to showcase their appeal to new listeners as well.

Big Doe Rehab is another valuable insight into the skewed world of Ghostface away from Wu’s taming Shaolin stylings.

It’s a little overlong and occasionally flirts with being a vanity project, but What The Brothers Sang draws great strength from how much Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy and Dawn McCarthy clearly cherish these songs, and how much pleasure it gives them to share them with us.

Modest Mouse have written 15 good tracks that don’t amount to a great album.

Nine Types of Light feels like the work of a band more than content to make a good album - a really, very, very good album, yes - but only because they can't be bothered to make a great one.

It pretty much wouldn't be a Silver Mt Zion record if it didn't have a pretty-much-impossible-to-understand conceptually connected section at one or more points. Tracks four to six fit this bill, being alternate spellings of the album title.

Matangi is a welcome return to form that consolidates on the agenda set out in MAYA.

They're a strong band musically, and The Slideshow Effect is a good, well put together piece of work which creeps up on you slowly.

While 25 25 is an uneasy listen at first, it's worth the perseverance even when giving up seems like the only plausible option.

It's a bold, brash, varied, slightly confused dance record with flashes of hip-hop.

This is The Fall, live, in a variety of undisclosed European locations (who knows where? Only MES, probably, if even him), one of this land’s (which land’s?) greatest ever groups, still hurtling forward, still thrillingly, still bafflingly, with their full-bore wonky-wheeled tenebrous, anomalous, glorious grooves-aah.

As a debut album, it shows great promise and potential for what’s to come, as she develops her own style as an artist.

h each subsequent listen, the readout dial wavers more wildly between the 5 and the 9 mark, never quite deciding on where it will come to fall. The enigma that is PVT, then.

If the band have got their eyes on a full-length record then they might want to consider varying the pace a little more--it certainly feels like they’ve got at least a couple of rapid-fire numbers in them--but for now, Lowtalker will certainly help to blow the wintery gloom away.

Tokyo Police Club have finally made small sound huge.

The group do not always connect perfectly on this album but when they do, it’s magical. Hive Mind celebrates musical collectivism and succeeds when it is at its most collaborative.

Unfortunately, however, no matter how listenable the latter half of this compilation is, it’s hard not to feel that it’s a shame Cabaret Voltaire abandoned their early abrasiveness as quickly as they did.

Granted, there are a couple of by-numbers moments that elongate Pure Mood by a couple of songs too many but such instances of self-indulgence are kept to a minimum, and ultimately the album becomes much more rewarding as a result.

If he's not yet unanimously considered the greatest cardigan-stylee speccy-sporting dweeby loser type songwriter-man of recent decades, he's surely on his miserable, merry way.

This is one of the greatest rock epics to drop through our door in a long while.

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

With Better Ghosts, Mazes have proven they’ve got staying power.

It has resulted in a not-completely enchanting experience, but an involving and worthwhile one nonetheless. Explore for its many corners of interest.

Truth be told the record is hard to quantify - it's so dense and layered that attempting to describe why it works just makes it seem contrived, while it's success should measured by the fact that it sounds anything but.

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.

For all the puritanical spoilsports trying to confine Toro Y Moi to an unfortunate genre box, Freaking Out has the chops to confirm him as an interesting artist in his own right, rather than as the product of a semi-coherent micro-scene.

Solidly crafted and splendidly written.

Beyond Hütz’s maniacal wail lies a bed of musicianship so textured, so emotionally captivating, it entraps you with the alluring gaze of an Eastern-block temptress under a blanket of silky unrestrained rhythm.

Exorcism is very often an uncompromising listen, but the truth that Wilson exposes makes it hard not to galvanise around her. Her sheer unwillingness to sugar-coat the truth is harrowing yet inspiringly brave.

Further exploration and perseverance reveals a collection of tunes rich with details, awash with well honed musical ideas, thoughtfully arranged vocals and expression filled lyrics.

The duo manage to create the same raw fervoured energy of Jack 'n Meg, but also utilise a far more diverse array of sound and instruments.

As it is, it’s just satisfying. It’s ironic, then, that the record comes with such a momentous title, because really, it’s a gentle personal triumph.

And that's what makes Exotic Creatures Of The Deep such an interesting and deceptively ambitious record. Not only is Russell Mael still capable of using camp innuendo to mock himself, as on album closer 'Likeable', but he's also not afraid to put those who owe him and his brother a debt of gratitude - however small - in the public spotlight.

The music they make is frequently stunning.

Much like Sonic Youth's feature-length instrumental masterstrokes Made In USA and Spinhead Sessions, Improvisations is a record that will likely reward the attentive mind most.

For those of us who hadn't got our hands on the earlier mixtapes or his remixes for the likes of Blackalicious and Rob Sonic, Weareallgoingtoburninhellmegamixxx3 is an opportunity to assess El-P as a beatmaker on his own merits.

Citizen Zombie is a lot of fun, which is both a blessing and a curse.

He’s definitely establishing his own niche with Punk Authority.

Much like the youth the record so pointedly evokes, it’s worth going through everything to get to this point.

On the whole, Penny Sparkle won't fulfill everyone's expectations, but few can argue it represents another stage in Blonde Redhead's audacious quest for development, even after 17 years and eight albums of trying.

Even if "Time To Dance" doesn't quite ignite the desire to boogie it--like the rest of Mixed Race--awakens something else you might not associate with Tricky: a burning interest to hear what he'll do next.

It will surprise no-one that they sound more natural and free when they sing in their native French tongue, but the tracks sung in English are far, far beyond any vowel-rolling cliché and are actually rather sweet and touching.

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.

Shaking the Habitual is an entity entirely unto itself; a warm chaos that drinks you in.

The musicians on the album--eight in total including Vic--seesaw between country, folk and indulgent Seventies rock, never reinventing wheels but generally giving the lyrical matter its appropriate platform.

Mice Parade have never before been quite this accessible.

Atmosphere play an autobiographical angle affectingly well. It’s an approach that’ll lead some to conclude When Life… is a little on the dull side, but with six albums under their belt seems the duo’s formula is not about to let them down just yet.

As an exercise in creativity, musical form, experimentation and sheer art, then, Reflections is to be commended, but as a standalone body of work it’s somewhat lacking in the substance, sculpted precision, urgency and depth that made Elaenia such an enthralling proposition.

It’s fun, bizarre and slightly derivative all rolled into one package and there aren’t many bands around in 2015 that could achieve that feat.

While Liberation Transmission may be a lyrical vacuum, it is also a musical masterclass in how to create 12 tracks of killer with almost no filler.

It’s the sound of Low passing up the opportunity for a twentieth-anniversary blow-out and opting instead for a quiet get-together with old friends.

It's a matter of personal taste, but Herren has largely shaken off these doubts with a rich and intriguing piece of work, the strengths of Everything She Touched... largely outweighing any reservations towards this sonically evocative album.

The feminine focus of Remy’s music overlaps with the political in exact and contemporary ways.

For the most part, though, Candy for the Clowns is very good fun; straight-up rock and roll, with no interest in pretension.

Most of the remaining 11 songs on Dear God, I Hate Myself are built around sequencers and beats rather than guitars, and while they’ve by no means called off their flirtations with dramatic bursts of noise, they are only intermittent over the 38 minutes

¡Uno! finally sees the Cali-punk trio letting themselves sound like Green Day, releasing the pressure and defaulting to what they do best.

For all this bravado, BEYONCÉ’s confessional moments are when you connect with it the most.... Flawed? Certainly. Boring? Never.

Reinforced by the layered repetition that comes with recording on tape, this album finds its grace by turning heartache into cheeky, fork-tongued refrains.

Whilst this is arguably down to her much-publicised intention to release as much material as possible over a short space of time, one cannot help but wonder whether - with a keen eye on quality control - the Body Talk trilogy could/should have been a truly groundbreaking single album.

So while it is more of the same, when that same is such an unpretentious joy to listen to it's churlish to complain. That's not to say it's perfect though: one or two tracks are slightly stretched beyond their natural life.

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.

There’s a relentless energy to the music, a beguiling mix of song styles that, on paper, shouldn’t work...but does.

At its best Director's Cut is a dazzling affirmation of Bush's genius as songwriter, performer and producer. Maybe one day we'll take her for granted again. But not today.

Without undermining the worth of the sort of material that forms Beak>'s bread and butter, >> really hit its peaks when it blurs genre distinctions.

Overall, The Third Eye Centre succinctly packs ten years' worth of eccentricities and oddments into a pleasant, if slightly oversized compendium.

There are occasional lapses (‘I Run’ is textbook Embrace, and thus completely forgettable), and probably too few ideas to really sustain a record, plus of course Editors have made pretty much this exact album at least twice in the last ten years, but still--it’s a hell of a rug-pull from a band long written-off, and a reminder to some of us that everything should be approached with an open mind.

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

By and large, fans of We Have Sound will find a lot to love about Leisure Seizure, as Vek mostly remains true to the style he patented in 2005.

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.

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.

Genuinely, it’s the lyrics that are stopping Little Red from being properly brilliant.

It’s not a complete lack of experimental ventures, but a limited volume. Regardless, this latest version of the band has clearly found a style that works, and the album definitely exhibits a bold direction, even if the average STP fan would naturally like to see a higher volume of daring moments.

With that image and, indeed, package, May will no doubt divide opinion and make certain people sick of him just by his very look and reflective genre, but to anyone with time to spend and ears to analyse he will be a speccy hero; a champion of triumphant performance irrespective of that well-practised image.

Die-hard fans of Civilian may be wary but after a few listens, this will sit proudly alongside some of the band's best work.

If you were hankering for a return to their garage-rock roots, then Turn Blue is going to disappoint; however, if you’ve liked where the band have gone since Dangermouse came on board, you’ll find plenty to appreciate here.

Their collective relentless energy combined with their individual talents saves their sound from feeling repetitive.

The album continues in typically strange style. However, despite the lack of musical progression, for some reason Screen Memories sounds, whisper it, on trend.

Although he makes Hello Skinny as unique-sounding as he can, Skinner also keeps it listenable, his hybrid sounds coming across as warm rather than overpowering.

It’s a mature, accomplished and surprisingly diverse collection of songs, but life-changing it ain’t.

The Hawk Is Howling may not induce the apprehensive anxiety of "Happy Songs For Happy People" or even match the apocalyptic ambience of "Rock Action," but when taken in isolation, even outside of the Mogwai name, it holds its own as Mogwai's first solely instrumental 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.

Overall, Encore is a worthwhile listen. It obviously suffers from many of the problems that dance music albums generally suffer from but it does well to show off Snake's ear for hooks just as well as his ear for drops.

A melodic and lyrical versatility runs strongly but the atmosphere created around the words is beyond a mere accompaniment.

None of the live tracks which also appeared across various formats of This Is My Truth...'s singles are included, which is a shame as there was no better live band anywhere on the planet at this point. Nevertheless, this is a rewarding compendium if only as a means of re-evaluating an album that was promptly dismissed by some, yet when all's said and done, in many ways years ahead of its time.

Her abstract notion seems to unfold halfway through opener ‘Spells’, as she starts engaging in a form of scat singing, amid wispy solos and a dreamy chorus.

Pierce and company might never release anything as tight and high caliber as their debut album, but they are heading in a new direction while still remaining staunch pioneers of the heavy synths and reverb style that warranted them attention in the first place.

Talk About Body is so ridiculously accessible musically, that audiences dancing along to MEN's absurdly addictive pop songs are likely to be blindsided if they ever listen carefully to the lyrics.

The overall effect is like a lighter, more self-conscious, throwaway, altogether 2011 take on David Bowie's Low, a collision of popstar and avant-production that is all the more interesting for not quite knowing where it is.

While the rest of the album does falter a little towards the end, as a piece of work overall it's one that they should rightfully be proud of.

What makes the record a success is the way Pinkunoizu harness their varied ideas and refine them into something accessible and engaging.

Part pep rally, part school-time innocence, In Case We Die is nothing if not full of life and enthusiasm.

Once, this band were making music to stare skywards to, to contemplate the vastness of the universe we’re such a tiny part of; now they’ve discovered a hidden reserve of human spirit, sucked it in and produced a record that will reconnect their wealth of talents to listeners fearing they’d forgotten how they’d ever reached such a lofty pedestal. It’s great to have them back.

It’s a flawed album that’s at times unbelievable, at times unbelievably bad but for those interested in investigating the moment Elton John became the legend he sought to be this is a thorough and generous offering.

What really let’s this collection down is not the quality of the songs – everything about their tunes is well considered and slickly executed – but the production.

Far from the bold reinvention initially promised, its restless energy masks over most missteps.

While not entirely unique, both [Mirrors and Second Encounter] provide a distinguished finale to Of Desire and one which suggests The KVB's finest hour might be just around the corner.

Despite the occasionally more personal tone to Tooth & Nail, he continues his role as social commentator magnificently.