Some will accuse them of cynicism, and they may be right, but there is enough intriguing material which is unarguably theirs here which keeps this an inventive and enjoyable pop-rock record.

A tastefully produced, solid entry into the Man Man catalogue.

Haunting until its final breath is drawn, Conatus pretty much does what it says on the packaging, its creator's endeavours in no way wasted on what is a worthy addition to a body of work of uncompromising consistency.

There are moments of heart-stopping beauty throughout, as well as a newfound optimism that propels the songs to swelling heights.

By spending most of its brief running time in an uptempo, breezy mode, Sees the Light more than compensates for its relatively modest arsenal of hooks and similar sounding choruses.

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.

Goat haven’t set the world on fire this time around, but they continue to make alluring, fascinating and significant music. On their third they have assembled a warm and more open record that doesn’t sacrifice their inherent mystery.

There are certainly active emotions fuelling the themes laid out on this album, and I daresay you could identify fragments of meta-commentary. It's just that you need to take most of it on good faith.

Ultimately, despite the odd moment of off piste brilliance (ie 'Death to My Hometown'), Wrecking Ball is at its best when Bruce sounds the most like Bruce.

PUP’s second record is one of moments and contrast--huge musical and lyrical leaps forward, some magical trickery and sleight of hand, a few stumbling mis-steps and finally a huge bright, beaming light offering this budding band a path to follow down which they can flower, grow and hey, maybe one day, not be quite so fucking hard on themselves.

This album runs the same gauntlet as any best of: inevitably any one given will adore 50 per cent of the selections and being various-levels-of-nonplussed about the remainder. While the collection does slightly skew towards the contemporary material, May Death Never Stop You essentially plays out like an evolutionary tree of My Chemical Romance’s sound.

On Sugaring Season she captures both the melancholy and the confidence that comes with growing older really rather well.

Human The Death Dance is a little too boastful, a little too obvious; the subtleties that made Francis’ previous offering so enjoyable and provided it with plenty of longevity have dissipated somewhat.

The nature of this very premise could so easily have made for a messy and confused effort, but Africane 808 somehow manage to make a cohesive piece of work out of so many conflicting elements.

Though an admitted level back on the recent disco-drone of "Growing’s Lateral" and even their fantastic EP release of "Living" from last year, these noise troupers have set up a decent new stall.

We Will Not Harm You is well-crafted enough that the looping repetition is pleasing, with the dominant bass thwacking out grooves which just play on and on.

There are moments of abject terror and suspense that perfectly sum up the show, that are flawlessly executed and deliver such a rush that you are swept along with them, and only after do you question what just happened. Like all the best things in life, this album is not what it initially seems.

Perhaps a little soft in places it is nevertheless beautiful and gently bruised, a welcome rush of emotion blowing across the borders of adulthood rather than a visceral shove between one state and the next. A solid album from a band beginning to bloom.

This Is My Hand is a good example of how sometimes less can be more. But when the ‘less’ is as good as some of the songs in the second half, it’s easy to see why you might want more.

Despite being twice the length of the film it soundtracks the album still clocks it at around 30 minutes and captivates enough with its sense of atmosphere, drama and melodic capabilities to make those 30 minutes fly by like a rocket straight into the moon's eye.

Through the heartache, there is a sophisticated definition of sound; this is no guts-on-the-floor album of raw country blues.

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.

Love Songs For Robots is ambitious without being overblown, intimate without falling to sentimentality and subtly, delicately lovely.

The slower songs can certainly be felt to add a rounded edge to what would otherwise be an unrelentingly pointy poptastic delivery.

Quietly, creepily and insidiously catchy.

The record captures and remains stuck in a moment, circulating a narrative where memory serves and is replaced over and over again, like an acid flashback with a locked groove.

Altogether, Popular Problems is another very good record from someone who many thought might not have such a thing in him, a concise collection of nine tracks curated by a man who has rediscovered his musical spark.

Whilst Vernon's production does add a glossy sheen, Edwards' captivating character is ultimately untouched and as a result, she can finally stand loud and proud as a truly talented individual.