As a representative document of the band's formative years to the present, Creatures Of An Hour is an astounding debut that can only bode well for the future.

By its very nature this is a more cohesive work than "Cassadaga," and a fine, true one at that: evocative, sporadically inspired and resoundingly enjoyable, repeat plays paying dividends.

The joy and longevity emanating throughout is at once jubilant and effortless: a luminescent pop-not-quite-masterpiece as much an indication one waits a little further down the road, Nights Out is eminently worthy of your time and investment.

On the whole, it matches Smith’s cheerier mood. A couple of abstract jam splodges aside, the album is punchier and less dirgy than last time.

This is hip-hop for post-rock fans and vice versa.

All Tense Now Lax, then, is brilliant precisely because of the way it flits disconcertingly between the two extremes presented in its title, between the constant and unrestrained tension of technological progress and the contrasting looseness of our day to day existence alongside it.

Sure, Two Gallants might take a good four tracks to get going, but the five that follow are outstanding--alive, almost.

Its layers upon layers of ideas and electronic noise require a level of repeat digestion far, far removed from the instant gratification and heart-on-sleeve emotions dominating the musical landscape. And that’s never a bad thing when done with the innate skill and passion for progression heard here.

These wandering riffs, devastating drum rolls and rollicking motifs will stick with you, but primarily to serve as an appetite-whetting taste of where their makers may venture next.

The album’s major problem, more than anything, is that such a flabbergastingly brilliant end stretch hints at a better record that might have been, a furiously abrasive set of drum’n’gaze (sorry) that would have completely blindsided all of us, rather than the enjoyable grab bag of dreamy old and in yer face new that we in fact get.

While some fans of her earlier, more challenging, material may be mildly disappointed sonically by such a straight-up pop record, even they must acknowledge what an important album this is both personally to Monae and socially to the current world, and for that, it is a successful and pleasurable work.

If Lovers Know initially feels like it’s dipping into the golden age of the American songbook, then this must be the most fruitful panning for gold to be released in eons.

Despite a noble resume, no other album comes closer to capturing the true essence of their onstage presence.

Devastating until the very last note subsides, this is arguably The Telescopes' finest record for over a decade. Prepare to be pulverised.

It's consistent and enjoyable, showcasing some nice new ideas while continuing to pull off the same tricks that Flying Lotus has been using to make a name for himself 2010.

Cheatahs might not have done anything especially new on their debut record, but they’ve delivered it in such incendiary fashion that it’s impossible to ignore.

If the results could always mesmerise and captivate as much as LUMP’s too-brief debut, perhaps we’d listen and follow suit.

There are ten fine new songs here, each beautiful and sorrowful, sparse and complex, sacred and profane: this is what to expect from a new record by Bonnie 'Prince' Billy.

Both as an album opener after a ten year absence and a spiritual partner to Public Image, This is PiL is pretty much perfect.

A wise, personal and vigorously ambitious album of the year.

I Know What Love Isn't is a classy break-up record rather than just a classic one.

As a collection of well-trod leitmotifs, Fudge Sandwich functions more as further folklore in the Segall autobiography than a mere cursory look at the tracklist would suggest.

There is a lovely, childish innocence to how much fun you can hear them having on this record, revisiting the music that once made them dream of making music their life’s work.

Whether it be the quaint elegance and flowing, reverb heavy guitars of kaleidoscopic opener 'I'm Gone' or claustrophobic haze of album standout 'Heavenly Bodies', there's little here that disappoints.

Just when you thought Reznor and his obscenely large biceps had been plugging away far too long on what was essentially a Nine Inch Nails tribute act, he sets things straight again with an original, well-produced, no-bullshit record. More of this please, and less of that other stuff.

Abandoned Language is a much more direct affair than its predecessor.

There’s no doubting it’s a very good album. The band’s best? Probably not. A successful return from a hiatus overlong? Certainly.

Last Evenings on Earth is as vast and sprawling as their self-titled debut, yet at the same time it’s concise and refined.