Ludicrous song titles and minor flaws apart, ‘Deja Entendu’ is a defiantly intelligent and singularly rewarding piece of work.

King of Cowards confirms it’s Pigs that deserve to have their cake and eat it. But it’s also an open invitation to join in the overindulgence with a complete lack of contrition. To gorge on the fruits of their labour is to feel utterly replete, that said, I’m not one to turn down thirds. More more more more more more more!

Picaresque is more than an indie-pop album, it's a collection of eleven lavishly arranged acts rife with the whiff of greasepaint and the roar of an adoring crowd, which you should be a part of.

In the midst of all this evolution, Pulled Apart By Horses are still fun, and the enthusiasm with which they pummelled through their earlier efforts is still present here.

The potential and promise that was spoken of so fervently when Minus The Bear arrived is slowly being fulfilled.

It's a record that certainly stands up to comparison with their previous outings - sometimes bettering them--and, if you've been seduced by their charms in the past, be prepared to fall in lust all over again.

There is only really one misstep on Unguarded.

This is the freshest their music has felt for a while.

This is a realisation, and an affirmation, of Paramore's musical craftmanship and potential longevity.

ike all the tracks on 24/7, exercise in precision from the Icelanders, German style. Not Swiss. There is no neutrality here. Every loop and bassline employed on the album has an eye to a tension held just out of view.

The era of setting aside an hour or so to sit and listen to an album is anathema to some in the age of mp3s and YouTube distribution models, but that's exactly what you need to do for Beyond The 4th Door. It's for that reason that this one goes down as a (very slightly) qualified success.

However you choose to describe it, or whatever your preconceptions of Hawley and his music, this is definitely an album you should bend a considered ear towards.

The danger for B&S was that they would become trapped in a world of knee socks and introspection; the reality is that they’ve produced their best album since ‘Boy With The Arab Strap’, while proving that they can cut it in the world of well-adjusted adults.

As an experimental project, it's clever and varied, and a vital chapter in the history of electronic music and sampling. As a pop record, it's tantalising, sensitive and essential; if you don't already own My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts, the reissue's extra tracks make now as good a time as any.

Basinski is a true master in the way he can overlay true emotion onto his subject matter, and there’s a sense of sadness for these black holes in their destruction and rebirth and the fabric of spacetime they tear apart within that. To close out with that sense of wonder and discovery relieves the weight of his material.

The contrasting movements, the peaks and troughs, the brightness and darkness and the intensity and calmness allow you room to think and to breathe. Triangle is truly massive and mesmerising.

‘Burned Mind’ isn’t music; it’s a vision of a decimated future.

Their sloganeering, haughtiness and mocking dismissal of their dislikes will always remain contentious, but never suggest they don’t mean it. This matters more to them than it does anybody else; Romance is Boring is the openly flawed but often brilliant proof.

In covering just three to four years of Lee Hazlewood's less readily available material The LHI Years mines a rich seam of individualistic pop genius, even the rump of which betters that found within the entire back catalogue of many artists.

This is comfortably the best effort from Matt Mondanile to date. A tribute to the power of not just belief but also the idea that patience can be your best weapon in terms of creating your best work.

Thematically, Organ Music… re-visits all-of-the-above, but Spencer's more lucid in his metaphors than ever before but loses none of the mystique for doing so; listening to this is like realising you can suddenly speak horse, or whale.

'The Invisible Invasion', like both it's predecessors, takes one or two listens to really get into, but once there has an engaging appeal about it that makes it possibly The Coral's most obvious "singles" album to date.

There’s no denying that the band has released a fully coherent statement.

The danger of a concept album, is it can end up sounding like a mismatched collection of tunes that have been lumped together because they fall under the same umbrella. Romare has avoided this trap by creating a body of work that expertly weaves through all the subtleties of falling in and out of love, and everything in between.

Frankie Rose and the Outs grants her the right to carry on doing as she pleases. As Lady Gaga comes across as a glorious car crash with her incessant costume change homages, Frankie similarly deserves the right to chop and change between band and styles. For as she chews music up and spits it out, she makes a beautiful mess.

That’s what this is, a record with definition and character, a pointed move away from the nerve-frying, oft random lurches of HEALTH.

Ultramarine moves Young Galaxy from being a great indie band to being a great band, full stop. The songs profoundly move the body and the psyche in equal measure.

The over riding result is that Hot Chip now seem infinitely more comfortable and competent in their skins.