A guilty pleasure it may be, but when the pleasure is as intense as this, quite frankly who gives a fuck?

While Transfixiation doesn't answer that question ["What have I become?"] specifically, it represents another giant step forwards in A Place To Bury Strangers' continual evolution.

They may not live on as eternal alternative classics, but they feel emphatically, explosively alive. While preserving his natural nonchalant charm, Thurston sounds more vigorous, bellicose, twitchy and forceful than he has in years.

What was once pin drop quiet is now grand; one soon adjusts however as the key to all of the songs here is the inner shell, not the protective exterior.

With 2019 fresh upon us, hopefully the splendour of Outer Peace is an eclectic foreshadowing of a thrilling year in music.

There is something to be said about a record like Quiet Signs, which finds its maker willingly dwindle and fade within the corporeal world’s fog and decay. It may be an old fashioned idea, sure, but it’s one that will undoubtedly age well.

Yorkston feels like a man who genuinely does this, not for fame or money or even to send a message, but simply as catharsis and because it means something to him. The Route to Harmonium is another chance for us to share that with him.

Perhaps the highest compliment you can pay the latest Faun Fables album is that neither its 'tuneful' or 'creepy' parts sound more naturally achieved than the other, and that they sound like they've sprung from the well of a woman with a unique creative – and literal – voice.

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.

The naysayers may have a point, this might not seem like an aural paradigm shift to some, but Paracosm is still a vital progression for Washed Out.

If the sign of a good LP is no standout tracks then John Wizards is certifiably brilliant, a collage of brightly-coloured chamber pop where modern synths get a look-in too.

Radio Static High makes a perfect counterpart to In Black and Gold.

Of course it’s not perfect, but it revels in that deficiency and harnesses aggression via discomfort to maybe eventually find peace. That amounts to a collection truly worth clutching tight.

It is very easy to get lost in this record, but there is a miraculous balance that holds everything together.

Popular Songs is as essential as anything Yo La Tengo have ever released, and perhaps even more so--an album that looks back at where they’ve been, smiles, and stares resolutely forward to what will come next.

He hits heights that few artists of this genre can reach and although this isn’t maintained consistently throughout the record, the heavenly levels of joy and bliss he’s able to impart prove the purity of his talent and the worth of his experience.

Lavished with luscious keys and gently chiming guitars throughout, ‘The Trial Of The Century’ tickles and teases the listener, offering subtle hooks that take time to appreciate.

Often collaborative projects end up being an average of its participants, merging in the middle in a grey mulch. Dark Night of the Soul escapes all of that, Sparklehorse bringing the songwriting genius, and Danger Mouse the production, and the details - the watery sounds, the effects, the atmosphere.

Hey Venus! is the most concise album in the band's history.

'To America’ comes across very much a modern take on West Side Story replete with fine vocal performances from its central pair, sweeping strings and ebullient brass, it’s a jubilant finale to an album that, while never quite surpassing the evocative beauty of the band’s first, matches it with a keen flourish.

Loss flows through The Rhumb Line's veins, ineffable but vital. Someday I'm sure I'll turn to this record for consolation, and for that I'm both sad and grateful.

Try not to worry too much about where it comes from, or who else it may or may not sound like. Instead, enjoy a record that is quintessentially British, without pretension and most importantly, a whole lot of fun.

RTJ2 is replete with razor-sharp lyricism and clattering, abrasive production.

Like a beacon of light emerging at the outset of Spectres distorted vision, its audacious nature and ever-changing mood perfectly sums up Dying's idiosyncratic nature.

An ambitiously themed, leftfield, modern classical album that not only impresses, but totally enthrals.

This is how the covers album should be done, with tight technique and loving affection blending together to give the new versions life and bite.

A rhythmically dense album that suggests Carey’s ever-evolving sound is in its prime stages.

There’s no swinging drama in Brion’s work on Lady Bird, but the meaning isn’t hard to find, either; it’s light, but not frothy. Above all, just like the film, it’s warm as toast.