Like the three series of Deadwood, you could spend time picking between each of the three Brokeoff's releases, but they should instead be seen as a single evocative triptych, although one that would nonetheless leave enthusiasm for another blood stained instalment.

This is not a classic – each high is paired with a low of similar scale, so whilst ‘Down In A Rabbit Hole’ scales heights previously thought unreachable, ‘Ship In A Bottle’, with baby samples screeching over the top of the most base-level beats, is plain annoying.

Despite its heavy subject matter, this record sparkles and whirrs in a way that is very easy to fall in love with.

Thanks to the similarities in vocal styles, it’s easy to compare Widowspeak with other acts around, and it’s fair to say that there’s plenty here for fans of such acts to admire. However, there’s also more here for anyone willing to look deeper, especially if you’re fond of a little country-tinged drama with your reverb and wistful vocals.

It’s stirring, tragic fare that demonstrates why For Willie is a good introduction for those new to Nelson and Houck alike.

While Campbell's music hasn't done a complete U-turn and embraced sonic maximalism, the nine tracks on Hinterland benefit from greater depth, evident on even the sparsest cuts.

The Errant Charm is marked by subtle beats and expansive drones that underpin most of the tracks and add an interesting new dimension to the band's sound.

While this isn't a mainstream record, it's perhaps Blackshaw at his most accessible.

So what is there to learn here? How about ‘Hal are generally good, although they’re usually better when they’re trying to blow our minds rather than win our heart’.

Ultimately, Bitter Rivals offers the comfort of familiarity while being different enough to avoid breeding contempt.

In fairness, We Were Dead... excites almost as much as it frustrates; the problem lying not so much in its commercial aspirations per se as an occasional inability to integrate them into a satisfying whole. That, and there’s too much shouting. And it’s way too long.

Minor criticisms aside, this is still a highly enjoyable record that knocks spots off most of the competition still tripping over each other's shoelaces to be the most shambolic lo-fi band in town.

It's a strong departure from the more sedate haunted seaside sounds of their last album, Butterfly House. It’s the sound of a band revitalised after a five-year-hiatus, ready to conquer the world once again.

You can hear a band recognising that the journey is important as the destination, and the process important as the final product.

Overall, you’re left the impression of an artist genuinely expressing themselves. It may not be his Born In The USA--despite what Vile claims--but Bottle It In ultimately succeeds in its intentions and further escalates Vile’s reputation as part of a rare breed of authentic songwriters. And that’s alright for now.

Friendly Fire is better than anyone could have predicted.

Patchy, perhaps, but there's plenty over the course of American Gangster to suggest that, even if sullied by a lack of prolificacy, at least the Brooklyn beatnik is keeping the right company again.

It's one of those hard to grasp music forms--listen to it on headphones and the acuity of it improves, listen to it on speakers and another side is revealed.

Musique de Film Imaginé isn’t quite the most moving album you’ll ever here, but, more than most, it works.

Even if they wrap themselves in prettier packaging, they’re as sharp as ever.

Overall, Regions Of Light And Sound Of God is a good rather than great album, lacking some of the spine-tingling dynamics of My Morning Jacket but delivering a consistent vision than many of their efforts.

Despite her numerous contemporaries, Torres stands out as a distinct and compelling performer.

While none of the tracks here equal the individual brilliance of the album standouts ‘Rode Null’ or ‘Barfuss Durch Grass’, Snowflakes and Car Wrecks hangs together far better than a collection of offcuts might reasonably be expected to.

On The Air Conditioned Nightmare some of the songs feel reverse-engineered, with vocals serving to glue the songs together rather than providing a focal point in themselves.

Just another chilled, spaghetti western-atmospheric SoCal indie rock venture then? Glad to hear it, keep 'em coming.

As 'The Little Death (In Five Parts)' started I questioned whether this record would start to fall down a slippery slope and plummet to the ground faster than a lead balloon falling from the sky. Fortunately 'The Little Death (In Five Parts)' reinstated my faith and any trepidation and scepticism I had is instantly diminished.

It’s hard to properly describe an album which needs to be experienced from start to finish rather than intimately analysed. Give yourself the opportunity to become part of Meg Baird’s brave new world. You won’t be disappointed.

It may be somewhat on the lofty, artistic side, but bounty manages somehow to avoid ostentation; it is largely elegant, grounded and rewarding.