The Unthanks have never been gentle background music as some might expect, as they’re always drawn to the darker stories that they can dig up. On Mount The Air, those stories are matched by some sumptuous, confident music, and they sound all the better for it.

This is by far The White Stripes’ most peculiar record.

On The Crying Light, Antony acts as a conduit between popular music and the avant-garde, and if that’s not a mark of greatness, what is?

The result is what separates indie music from the contemporary mainstream: an actual album, a 40-minute body of work with a sense of cohesiveness that isn’t designed to be broken down into Spotify playlists or end-of-year 'best of 2014' mixtapes.

The Argument's cataclysmic clashes and multitudinous puzzle pieces that never quite fit together are the stuff of a deeply flawed classic.

So swings and roundabouts, then, but for all Bloodsports’ faults, it’s still pretty good.

The Louder I Call, The Faster It Runs is a symphony in freedom, and a potent testament to Wye Oak’s ambition moving forwards, the possibilities for this band are limitless.

Three albums in, and the four folks who identify as Terry continue to defy simple categories, even when their zigzag pop songs take you for a leisurely cruise.

Notice the way whole songs skulk past without you ever noticing; how half the material here is ornate but unmemorable muzak, with all the emotional force of a feather. [combined review of both discs]

We have instead been blessed with an embraceable record from a contemporary dance music auteur and a partner who proves a skilful wingwoman.

This is a fruitful and distinctive addition to Malkmus' oeuvre, not least thanks to Beck who also produced Thurston Moore's latest outing with a similarly sensitive finesse.

Scott Litt's crisp, clean production always had a plangent directness that suited Out of Time perfectly, and any remastering tweaks are pretty imperceptible. Disc two here is entirely comprised of demos, many of them instrumental, and certainly not something to repeatedly listen to in a single sitting.

A work of formidable and pristine beauty.

Beautiful, if rather impenetrable at times, Sonnet succeeds when holding back - teasing soft, sometimes brittle melodies through reverbed layers of atmospherics, giving just enough away to engage and envelop.

So while there are a few moments of blandness, a few moments where tradition sits a little too comfortably for a little too long and where some of us may be a little lost lyrically, there is never any question of the inherent power of Staples’ voice.

Reportedly taking as much time to arrange harmonies as write the music, Gorilla Manor is a definite labour of love, and you know what they say; you get out what you put in. Though it may not be revolutionary, for me, this album is a little gem.

Dougall’s voice, which is always sounds faintly sad (all the best voices do) laying a melancholic consistency across the whole thing. Star-shaped indeed.

The Kenny Dennis LP is an intriguing piece of character led alt-hip hop. It will baffle some, but if you stick with it the reward for your patience is Serengeti’s keenly observed portrayal of an enigmatic, idiosyncratic and ultimately charming character.

Kokoro is a small but significant treasure that is full of compassion, and the so-called ‘selfie’ generation would do well to pay heed to it.

At times hypnotic in their understatement, every so often they gently erupt with vivid melodies that bring the underlying air of tension to its peak.

Fin as an album appears to be the requisite cross-over hit of the year, following in the footsteps of Caribou's Swim and Pantha Du Prince's Black Noise.

This is a proud record that is best played loud, and often.

All told, Keep Moving is pretty much everything a second album should be. It takes the strengths of the first record and builds on them, it explores new ideas, and crucially it’s a much more cohesive musical affair than Slow Down.

Troyka have the tools make his dream a reality. Well, they would do, if they'd just stop with that dastardly noodling.

All in all, there’s not much here that’s likely to blow your mind; if you’re already a Motörhead fan then you know exactly what you’re getting yourself in for, and even the most die-hard may find themselves wanting to skip a track or two, but there’s always something impressive about a band so dedicated and single-minded about fulfilling the simple goal of being the best rock band on the planet.

The record is bookended by the heaviest tracks, and 'Uncle Frank Says Turn It Down' picks up where the opener left off. ... The middle section of the album is more explorative with the metallic, bending and flexes of ‘Europa’ creating an unnerving interlude after the ruckus before it.

Although this doesn't quite scale the heights of their two previous LPs, "Death Is This Communion" and "Blessed Black Wings," it shouldn't be thought of as a point of no return. As ambassadors for metal, they remain near-peerless.

A bottle of red wine and a full listen of the album is when you’re really going to uncover the caveats and subtleties of the record. Anything else and you’re just wasting a wonderfully dark and seething record.