Although not entirely perfect. And it's highly unlikely even the most wisened Mary Chain diehard would have expected it to be. Damage and Joy heralds the dawning of a new era in its creators' colourful history, providing a worthwhile addition to a canon of musical eminence in the process.

It is, all at once, accessible as a song, but interesting as a piece of music. But the problem with Let Me Come Home overall is that, as before, there is a bit too much of the former and nowhere near enough of the latter.

Within its perameters It’s an inventive and carefree album, a joyful re-engagement with a well loved sound, one that will undoubtedly remain fresh for as long as its creators are happy to stir the electro-rock-cauldron.

Semicircle manages to reconnect the group with the childish creativity that powers their best work.

Liquid Love doesn’t try to be anything other than forty minutes of groove-tastic electro-pop, and as such comfortably hits its goals.

When it's good, it's very very good, and when it's bad, it can veer from dull to irritating and back again over the course of a single verse. Thankfully though, there's enough of the good to make this a hugely enjoyable album overall, and more than deserving of your attention.

For the moment, In Light is hamstrung by its creators' raw ambition.

A shimmering DJ compilation which sounds a bit cerebral, all in all.

dEUS manage to exhume an unbridled level of consistency throughout the nine pieces that comprise Keep You Close.

Nine Black Alps clearly do 'get' what is so satisfying about the particular well of alternative they drink from, even if it hasn't really been all that alternative for 20-plus years.

His work until now can only be seen as preparing the ground for this body of work, an album so satisfying, accomplished and beautiful.

Division Street is Simon’s sweet step into the twilight sun.

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

It's admirable to hear a follow up LP trying to push itself out of comfort zones but Invisible In Your City finds Gang Colours falling short of his peers.

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.

Mysteries is by no means terrible, but Tigercats are a long way from earning their stripes.

It’s a massive, honest mess, loaded with love. And as such, it might even be called his most definitive album yet.

Though it would have been nice to feel a greater sense of ownership, it’s a solid enough new chapter for a group who always kept it light, so why change all that much now?

It may not be an album to die for, but it is a rare album of note, as much for its context as its content.

Although Heavy Rocks is a palpably different album to its release-day sibling, it also covers a fair amount of ground, and there are moments which would have made perfect sense on Attention Please (and vice versa).

Occasionally you might seek more variety in the tones and washes, but Foy has worked hard to create something that feels of a piece, and there’s no denying the talent at play here.

Actually, the best way to experience what Mister Mellow is really about is to give the visual component of the album a go first. Yes, the audio more than stands up on its own, but the artwork courtesy a variety of incredibly talented artists really does a more comprehensive job of fleshing out Greene’s overall vision.

This is a record to be drunk from deeply, preferably in solitude, along with a bottle of whatever makes you purr as warmly as Sandoval and her Inventions can--and evidently still do--at their best.

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

Grand Archives offers an impressively alternative take on American indie; blending a number of interesting influences to create a fresh and airy project.

Straight out of a John Hughes screenplay, Welcome to Condale pulls off the feat of being thoroughly POP--polished and plump, preened for the screen and sequinned to the hilt--yet, somehow, marvellously INDIE.

Pollard hasn’t delivered an all-enticing album in a while, and with all of its hidden gems, August By Cake suffers from having too many songs that just aren’t fulfilling enough.

It doesn't cut the deepest on first impressions, but those undulating tones of utter desolation seep beyond skin deep with every fresh listen.