John K. Samson’s vocal and lyrical talent is the most immediate thing and, ultimately, what sets the band above the two-a-penny similar rock acts the world over.

There’s less freewheeling improvisational spirit than perhaps you’d expect, instead there’s a real desire to cast a mood, one of optimism and warmth, The whole experience feels nourishing.

While Joyce Manor's fourth record is still a very enjoyable romp through ten expertly written pop-punk songs, the album's plain-view influences, cleaner production and vocal delivery feels like it just slightly misses the mark on being the something truly special the band have threatened their entire careers.

Cage Tropical is a dreampop record. ... And the problem with dreampop records is--well, if they fall short of dreams, then you’ve got to either imbue something other than the divine into the lining (hi, Deafcult!), or you’ve got to work it into overdrive until your listener’s heart flutters like a virgin on the mattress (hi, Ballet School!). And our protagonist simply fails on both counts.

There’s only one test a live album has to pass, and this one stands up to it: if you were there you’ll be prompted to bask in the memory, and if you weren’t you’ll be wishing like hell that you had been.

The xx lay out all of their pieces beautifully. There are no extraneous parts. Not a second that they didn't intend. As a result, songs like 'Tides' or 'Chained' unfold as naturally as a ripple of wind.

Lotta Sea Lice won’t totally slake the thirst of the pair’s individual fanbases for new solo work, but what it does do is see them bring out the best in each other. It’s a powerful testament to the possibilities offered up by a genuine creative friendship.

Every Country's Sun sounds pleasingly massive, as any Mogwai album should, as there is something specifically about Fridmann's techniques that just understands the band's heavy hitting style.

TVOTR splurge slabs of strange sound into almost freeform structures that draw on jazz sensibilities, alt-rock peculiarities and the whole NYC infatuation with cool.

It's careful yet effortless, passionate yet distant but above-all, wholly unique.

As rich and enchanting as the source material undeniably is, the winding songs of Child Ballads ultimately get locked into an unfortunate paradox: the magic of the narratives require a focussed and concentrated listen, but the sparse arrangements and repetitive melodies don’t invite the ear in nearly as closely as Mitchell’s recent LPs.

Marmozets are a band that thrive on angst. They deliver it through the raw nature of their sound, through their acute lyrics and pounding metalcore-slash-pop-punk. It can feel at times, though, of too much of an exhilarating ride, an endless roller coaster that doesn’t provide enough respite.

By no means is this a bad album, it is just one that in the modern day holds little relevance and offers nothing significant.

Never once do Dungen verge on pretension, sure their songs are grandiose and there are more ideas in 4 than most bands muster up in their whole career but then are pulled off so successfully that one can’t doubt that they are there for any other reason other than furthering the band’s sound.

Altogether, Father, Son, Holy Ghost is a complex record, one that doesn't quite fully realise Girls potential as great recording artists, yet equally suggests that bona fide masterpiece may not be too far around the corner.

There is an effortless vibe to Astronaut Meets Appleman can only be gained from a career doing your own thing and not caring about chat places and record advances. Anderson appears to be happy in his skin and has crafted nine songs that reference his past, but also hint to his future.

Before the World Was Big is a record that will help you appreciate the 'good old days' whilst you're still in them; it's a record that will make you feel okay about the unsettling aspects of the future and it's a record that will make you wanna hug your pals and never let them go.

As much of a cliché as it is, you're either going to love Allen or hate her.

As a debut record, La Vie Est Belle / Life is Beautiful is bold, beautiful and brilliantly honed.

There are still places to go, but this is an early contender for album of the year.

Backspacer is very much calculated to sound the way it sounds, and suggesting Pearl Jam have lost anything would be premature. Ultimately there’s no point fretting about the future when contemplating a record that’s so very much a celebration of the moment.

Though there’s nothing startlingly new here, this is a consistently engaging record that doesn’t so much successfully straddle metal and post-rock than have both coursing through its veins.

From start to finish this is an unexpected adventure through the crossover, leaving the door of the VIP bunker open for us all to sneak in.

What could have been a self-indulgent curiosity becomes yet another treasure chest waiting to be flung open amidst 2015's plentiful trove.

[Nels Cline's] noodling is nice and all, but it’s akin to casting Jason Statham in an ITV period drama. Worse still is the treatment of Mike Jorgensen, who has such an instantly recognisable sound on the keyboard; I genuinely don’t know if he is even on this record. Some nice fluttery percussion on ‘Quarters’ aside, the brilliant Glenn Kotche barely is.

Its incoherence might prove a bit frustrating, but Eleanor has proved that she can do perfectly well away from her sibling.

Save the odd occasion where Merritt opts for smirking affect over emotional resonance, it all adds up to an excellent addition to an already distinguished back catalogue.

Overall, D is a measured if occasionally overcooked beast that proves difficult to digest as a whole.