Their third album Infinite Arms glows with that familiar sound, a sound born with an American heart.

Despite the fact that a few of these nineteen tracks could easily have been cut, or that its mid-tempo pacing may drive it dangerously close to sounding monotonous, the evidence still points to that of a songwriter clawing back to his best.

Moments of genuine marvel, each one craving its own flowery descriptives, come thick and fast.

Its strangeness is all-pervasive, yet understated. It‘s Deerhunter’s quietest record to date, and not exactly lacking in hooks--’Element’ and ‘Plains’ are earworm-ish. And yet everything’s ineffably odd. ... But it all adds to the the album’s allure--a singular thing, not quite of this world, desert fruit ripening quietly on the eve of the end.

While the band have clearly slowed down to create their fifth record, Painted Ruins shows no signs of stopping their quality of sound and long may that continue.

There probably won’t be a better instrumental album than this in 2015. It will certainly be one of the most inventive, delicate and fearless records the year will offer.

More considered than the debut, more quietly patient and yet somehow more addictive.

None Shall Pass envelops the sounds of hip-hop’s spiritual home more than any album in his notable career.

There is something exorbitantly satisfying about enjoying what you might deem to be a comeback album, especially when it arrives from an established band that many - including myself - thought were out of fresh ideas.

The thrill of being a band again with an arsenal full of ideas means it's a lot more focused. They've managed to create powerful rock and tender ballads without needing to rely on the guitar riff as a means of expression--energy simply oozes out of their every move.

On this record, Merril Garbus manages the impressive feat of condensing much of the decade’s more interesting musical trends into one very well delivered tapestry.

Not easy, but often fascinating, wholly rewarding and genuinely cathartic.

The imagery threaded throughout is at once arresting and functions on multiple levels, but perhaps its greatest achievements arrive in the form of songs like ‘Double Life’ and, pertinently, ‘You Are Your Mother’s Child’.

While that argument over the art of the singer-songwriter may be embedded in a lack of originality, Villagers have managed to craft an endearing record, glowing with a heart-warming level of nostalgia.

While a gradual refinement is noticeable from House Of Balloons to Echoes Of Silence, a lack of breathing space between the tracks does them no favours. You're better off dedicating yourself to each album's meaty serving of revelry and regret in turn.

It doesn't really matter how this record sits in comparison to the last few; it's gorgeous.

Girl or boy, The Decemberists have been there to drape a drunken arm around in the absence of fortune for the best part of 15 years now. The good news is, the tone in that arm is firmly set again. A genuine and welcome joy.

They are a less irreverent and more melodic Art Brut, swapping that band’s caustic wit for a far nicer type of honesty.

While unlikely to win many prizes for originality, I Will Be possesses likability in spades, not to mention a hefty selection of demurely constructed tunes that might delve into the past for inspiration but smile brightly into the future as a result.

I’m perfectly happy settling for an upgrade rather than a complete overhaul.

Even as these pieces are tightly composed, improvisation, solos, a loss of control, are never far away. This can only be a good thing.

A set of incredibly well put together takes on all of your favourite nursery rhymes.

A compelling record then all told, and one which should hopefully ensure Marshall has the benefit of a label suitor for his next release if there's any justice.

The erratic nature of this album makes it a near perfect soundtrack for these troubled times, where no one is quite sure what awaits around the next corner.

So where the Share the Joy may inhabit a broad spectrum of emotions, inflicted with anxiety in places and rife with The Vivs' trademark wit, ultimately, it can be viewed as a shiny beacon of joy in an ever growing climate of discontent.

This is not a record of ballads for emo fans.... This album is a collection of proper songs.

As with many dance LPs, Swisher is slightly on the long side--65 minutes is more than enough time to get your groove on. But the album never ends up sounding repetitive, the emotions behind the beats don’t allow it to.

On Let them Eat Chaos Tempest has cemented herself as a poet/rapper of the highest order, who isn’t happy just make the masses smile, but to challenge and make them think and love too.