If it hasn't already been made clear, there is a pretty constant, not to mention obvious, Eighties aesthetic permeating these eleven tracks. But it's been put together well enough that its never really overbearing or worse, a contrived mess.

The few extra tracks that follow ["Slow Fade"] don’t really do much apart from bloat the run time, which is my only gripe with the record, really. That aside though (and what it lacks in depth, it more than makes up for in atmosphere) it’s an intriguing look at a talented producer carving his own path, and making dancefloors a little bit weirder.

A little too homogenous to warrant many a repeat listen.

Overall, Wake Up The Nation isn't a bad record, but it can be a bovine test of endurance, at least if one is to devour all sixteen tracks in one sitting. Had the quality control officers had the guts to stand up to its creator in chief, this could have been an endearing re-affirmation.

At 75 minutes and 19 tracks, it is comfortably his longest record to date, but also his most listenable.

Defeatist it may be, but such genius is very rarely recognised in a band’s lifetime. So be it – because there genuinely is no verbal persuasion that could exceed a single listen to America’s most underrated.

There’s something horrific about this record; it’s possessed by an indefinable evil that permeates every song.

The heart of the album lies in the unparalleled excellence of Oldham’s songwriting – simple yet complex, understated and profound at the same time.

Route One or Die is a heavy, sometimes dizzyingly diverse listen. Despite this, the band's emphasis on melody means these songs hook you in from the very first listen, while still having more wonders to reveal to you on repeated listens.

Shapeless moments aside, Sleep Games emerges as a strong enough entry point in either Pye Corner Audio's discography or the murky world of Ghost Box.

There may be nothing here that pricks emotion like ‘When An Old Cricketer Leaves The Crease’ and this may not be the truly brazen, bold Harper of the Seventies but it’s a record of reflection, of experimentation, sometimes of egotism, often of near-mystical sadness.

The Infinity Machines strain occurs in eight stages, each with varying intensities of drone.

Even as these pieces are tightly composed, improvisation, solos, a loss of control, are never far away. This can only be a good thing.

This is a beautifully composed album and one which frequently feels like a blessing that we even get to hear it at all.

It’s one of the most thrilling and confident debut records of the year.

Whichever way they decide to pursue such diversions on future releases, one hopes that they remain as fixated on fusing together the dance traditions of their two homes. On that territory, Ibibio Sound Machine remain world leaders.

Where British guitar bands like the Arctic Monkeys have failed in enabling their audiences to dance in any way more stylised than an up-down jump, this guitar band play songs you could very nearly jive to, partner in hand.

It’s a confident, naive, sensitive journey that plays to all of the strengths of the artist without sounding ostentatious. It’s an emotional listen, but a necessary one.

Picking out highlights from a treasure chest overflowing with golden nuggets is a tough call, but Inspiral Carpets' 'Theme From Cow' off their unsurpassed and impossible to find Plane Crash EP, *8Kitchens Of Distinction's shoegaze prototype 'Prize', Thrilled Skinny's introduction to fraggle 'So Happy To Be Alive' and Mancunian oddballs King Of The Slums**' 'The Pennine Spitter' are just four of many reasons why this compilation should be high on every music completist's shopping list.

Engaging and fulfilling, it stands out as one of the most unique and confident records of Weaver’s career so far, with the nagging and thrilling feeling that so much more is waiting to emerge given the scope of her talents.

This album has a scale to it that occasionally transcends the intimacy one may associate with much of Youngs’ back catalogue.

If this truly is the end, Sauna Youth should be more than proud of the work they've created. It is an oeuvre many would be lucky to have, and this album detailing the struggles of balancing your art with every day working life is at once frustrating but relatable and rewarding.

The versatility shown here adds yet another notch to Drug Church’s (and Kinlon’s) bedpost as one of the most exciting bands around in a genre that doesn’t often do much experimentation or progression.

Of course, we already knew that SGD could dish out more than most amateur punks. But this time around, the duo flaunt even more of their hard rock swagger. Ursula finesses the kit like the legends, while Delilah can command her voice with more expression and scathing attitude than ever before.

Two Dancers, then, doesn't so much follow up their debut as announce Wild Beasts as one of our genuinely special bands, one that can compete--in terms of both musical and lyrical ingenuity as well as sheer pop nous--with any US act you've seen talked up in the music press this year.

Past, present, and future rest patiently before Hoop, and she’s weaved them all into her most endearing album yet.

It's a well recorded, well played effort, and it nestles into genre expectation very nicely. But weirdly, with one extremely notable exception, the songs are predictable and average.

A swift punch of an album which inevitably hits some artistic limitations, but succinctly delivers all the timeless qualities of in-yer-face riffage from a snotty garage band.