There’s nothing on Undress that diminishes her as a songwriter; it’s just that it seems a mistake to strip some fine tracks of what made them so enthralling in the first place.

The Wytches have proved themselves a genuinely intriguing proposition, one with far more up their sleeves than just straight-up punk raucousness, but that also have evidently not quite got a handle on how best to present themselves on record, either--given that this is their first effort, though, that’s entirely forgivable.

White Is Relic/Irrealis Mood is, in essence, a very solid new of Montreal album.

13 Blues… scores 10 in almost every sense, but to award such an accolade would imply this is a record never to be bettered.

Away from the lyrics, there’s a nagging feeling that, like The Only Place, California Nights isn’t going to blow too many people away with its mostly familiar-feeling content.

Kaleide is immediate and it rarely dulls, bar the slow start to "Anjelica Huston," before it bursts out into sparkling keyboards at the tail end.

Minor criticisms aside, this is elegant dreampop at its finest, and a worthy introduction to the incandescent world of Snowbird.

Song construction isn’t quite as nifty and complex as, say, Grizzly Bear, but there are plenty of moments to keep you coming back for more.

Thee More Shallows have, in a short time, perfected their sound to an extent that they can take multiple left turns without losing their way.

There's a sort of admirable purity to this approach, and it suggests that if Animal Collective decide they'd like to make brilliant albums again then probably will, but this time they're probably better off painting alone.

Frantic and calculatedly assured.

Too often, though, this record slips into a comfort zone that, while making it impossible to generally dislike, renders it hard to get excited about.

What this duo have is exactly that – heart. They also have balls to spare, but don't tell them that – those little fellas get into all kinds of trouble. Wouldn't want to worry them.

The first half of Torches is its collective zenith, and although things pick up towards the end of the album by the strategically placed 'Pumped Up Kicks', you can't shake the feeling that Foster has simply stretched the party vibe over as many songs as he can before the momentum runs out.

This is a piece of chewed-out gum; with no viable nutrition, no flavour and no joy. Do yourself a favour and spit it out.

The end product is stern, frigid and heavy minimalist-techno, which also happens to be pop as ...: urgent, impatient, sculpted, immediate, and incident-packed.

There's something impenetrable about it, an obtuse level of abstraction and a slightly joyless delivery that really leaves this listener with no point of entry at times.

It's got an edge, moreso than Astro Coast, and that element of creeping unease makes Pythons a fuller, more mature and honest album than its precursor.

Unpatterns feels like less of a discrete instalment in a collection and more an accomplished blend of the two things James Ford and Jas Shaw do best--gigantic, open-armed, open-air pop, and femur-fracturing analogue techno.

Stylistically there is a different kind of freedom (there is even a nod to garage rock on ‘The Queen Of All Returns’) that seems less about affectation or indulgence and more about adhering to the spirit of each individual song, making for harder-fought but longer lasting rewards.

There’s no staggering departure from Total Loss, but the backdrop for his soulful R&B crooning is becoming worn-out, and you can feel Krell auditioning replacements.

There’s some interest to be found but for the most part he displays a real lack of daring.

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

Somewhat uneasy listening in places, yet sublime in others, Given To The Wild should rid The Maccabees of those 'landfill' jibes once and for all.

Rather than functioning as simple b-side fodder, the four tracks which shape Earth Division are all totally different, yet just as essential as the album from which they were excluded.

After the sass and bluster of the first half, the record settles into a rather one-dimensional groove.

It’s an intriguing and refreshing listen.

As a body of work, Golden Worry is a fine representation of Thank You mk. II that allays any fears their fanbase may have had about the band seeking more commercial pastures with their new drummer.