It may not be perfect – there’s the slightest suggestion as the album draws to a close that ideas may be running thin – but for a debut record to sound this accomplished suggests a promising future, and surely they’re in the right hands.

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.

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.

Holding down lyrical matter which often floats in the air are drum machines and timers, and the production of the whole record is incredibly clean. Sometimes a shininess works. At other points I can’t help feeling a little more griminess would be more apt for the subject matter.

Regardless of what anyone wanted or expected from them though, this brilliant debut sees Diet Cig establishing a complex, nuanced voice with a subtle uniqueness, a fierce emotionality and a great sense of fun.

The overall effect is like a lighter, more self-conscious, throwaway, altogether 2011 take on David Bowie's Low, a collision of popstar and avant-production that is all the more interesting for not quite knowing where it is.

There’s no way he sounds 19.

The Chills’ most compelling album yet.

I Used to Spend So Much Time Alone is pretty in its sonic gloominess and witty in the way that it wears its anxieties on its sleeve, but what makes it special is the way that all of that is grounded by the sturdiest of anchors--the quiet optimism that friendship inspires.

This is a wonderfully zealous experience, bristling with realised potential and fulfilled ambition.

Even after having listened to this album many times, it seems no clearer as to whether it is a collection of underdeveloped song ideas or the well produced outakes of an intriguing idea.

Another summer album of frisky, playful, intelligent, tune-filled wonder from a great songwriter born to put a massive slobbering smile on yer face.

An album that doesn’t sell us short on the pop hooks of albums past, but one that also delivers a healthy dose of politics to the mix without sounding like a six-legged cliché-riddled embarrassment.

It’s Gengahr's commitment to weirdness on A Dream Outside that puts them many streets ahead.

A brilliant and riveting album.

What really impresses though is how complete all of this sounds: aside from the typically cocky lyrical references, there’s nary a hint that they’ve not been working together for the last few years.

It's a scatterbrainedness that makes Girls endearing and frustrating at the same time, and it's pertinent to remember that Elvis Costello often sang about more than just girls. Still, it's hard to begrudge a band their niche when they do it so well.

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

For something so sprawling, Field Music (Measure) is impressively cohesive, particularly when considering the styles of the two brothers are more distinctive than ever.

Ghostpoet’s vocals are delivered in a consistent, mumbled, emotionally-drained understatement throughout, lending the album a sense of authenticity that it could not survive without.

Here And Nowhere Else not only reaffirms Baldi as one of the most prolific and consistent songwriters of his generation--its hard to believe he's still only 22 considering the extent of his back catalogue--but also suggests there's much more to come in the future.

Effortlessly mixing pop aspects with electronic undertones, hip-hop influence and the occasional R&B nod, she has taken everything that's wrong with today's chart toppers and turned it on its head--producing a record packed full of inspirational, intelligent monologues. It isn't half catchy either.

Below The Branches is, maybe, the first perfect summertime album, absolutely brimming with brightness and charm.

It may have taken Long and Kroeber some time to crack the tough nut of a thoroughly radiant album but unlike their namesakes, The Dodos have only ripened with age.

Mothers is a good, enjoyable album. It isn’t the classic album that Swim Deep have been aiming for, but it feels like they’re tantalisingly close to reaching it come album #3.

A spokesperson for wearied souls, Waxahatchee leaves the rest of us intrigued but far from in love.

Given the gestation period and polish, the humanity that manages to shine through this tight, crafted record is a triumph; the sound of a band having a whole lot of fun in the hope that ultimately you will do too.

Some Say I So I Say Light is the attempt to merge a lone voice into the black of the vast, surrounding landscape, and it succeeds absorbingly well.