Primitive and Deadly is the latest in a recent suite of triumphs- by this point Earth are masters of their game, making music that’s bigger and more powerful than anything mere mortals should be able to create.

As ever with Themselves, there aren’t really highlights or many changes of pace – it’s full-on, all the time; you don’t get skits between songs, just a second, third or fourth gabbling vocal line within these ten, unconventionally concise songs.

Similar to Ben Folds and Aimee Mann, Merritt revives the lost art of inventing captivating fictions entwined with personal reflection.

As inconvenient as it may be, even if you already own this album it is well worth purchasing once again in its new form, if, of course, you can afford the ostentatious extravagance of buying the same Nineties lo-fi record twice within the same lifetime.

This record is the group’s leanest to date. There’s no filler. It’s instant hit after instant hit after instant hit.

While Dylan fans surely miss his original tunes, this honest, affecting tribute to a bygone era of music is a treat in itself.

Konoyo exists as a glorious symphony that brings together the starkness of electronic experimentation and the human warmth of traditional acoustics into an astonishing whole.

Their most well-rounded LP so far.

There is no concept, because sometimes an album just doesn't need to confuse itself with one, this is simply a collection of heavyweight dancefloor bangers and should be enjoyed as such.

Basinski brings to his craft an understanding that music structures time just as much as time structures music. Among his most entrancing work.

Slaves of Fear isn’t perfect, but then I’m not sure it’s trying to be. It’s all over the place, but is also strangely connected. It’s good, just leave me alone now--I need a lie down.

Be Music is an enjoyable, interesting curio, that sits alongside the 2002 collection as a fascinating companion to one of our most unique groups; and a satisfying journey into electronica in its own right.

While it’s fair to wonder if they can ever top it, their growth from record to record indicates that they may indeed have another even higher gear.

What’s striking though is that a band known for a very particular sound can produce such individually distinct pop songs, with equal aplomb, while remaining within their self-defined parameters of 'the Dutch Uncles sound'.

Choppy beats and rhythms along with shuffling percussion helps create a feeling of urban movement and flux. There is a swagger to the songs that is hard to ignore--Panda has created the album that he has always hinted at.

This is perhaps the most deeply rewarding album from a singer songwriter released this year. Each time you think you have the measure of it, it takes things in a wildly different direction.

Is it a worthy addition to their canon, though? Absolutely. The things that make this band a real treasure can all still be found here--the slightly beat-up romanticism, the pessimism of the secret optimist, the big, bold beauty of the melodies, the detailed imperfect perfection of the music.

Ashworth earns sympathy aplenty vocally, but his mechanical compositions occasionally jar awkwardly against his heartfelt outpourings.

These words have lost none of their clout and, in fact, Tom's reworking of the sounds that surround them only serve to underscore just how powerful they can be.

Fragrant World is by far the band's most immersive and consistent record, a buzzingly exotic mass of nervy future soul and paranoid disco that grows in stature with each listen.

Central Belters isn’t so much a practical collection of music, more a monument to an inspirational career.

Teenager is consistently rewarding, then; what it lacks though is bite.

A deeply affecting album which preserves everything that was so marvelous about her beloved folk-opera [Hadestown], and ultimately performs a very handsome job of keeping out of its vast shadow.

Sure, there’s less humour here than Conor Oberst or Okkervil River, but there’s also less caricature, and if Damien Jurado continues to play second fiddle in terms of success, he no longer does so in terms of atmospheric arrangements, captivating tunes, and dark poetry.

When you combine this teeth-gritting lyrical intensity with El-P's boundary-pushing production and stupefyingly capable poetics, it's little wonder that, for all its darkness, paranoia and rage, Cancer For Cure emerges as one of the year's most endlessly re-playable records.

A Broke Moon Rises takes a totally different tone and is all the better for it. The overall impression of sitting with A Broke Moon Rises is one of music being created as a comfort blanket: Pajo weaving a warm, familiar and enveloping sound world in order to soothe himself. Fortunately, it’s a generously proportioned blanket that can cover the listener too.

A thoughtful and inventive debut album that is more accomplished and accessible than the first offering by [The Coral].

This reinterpretation of Vulnicura is a success that also surprises, given the simplicity of the premise. This is both a joy to listen to and a chance to focus on Björk’s string arrangements and the frustration contained therein.