Yet another satisfying record from the London-based producer, who, while loses marks for his perhaps too similar creation, remains an important figure in the UK electronic scene and for good reason. Ultimately, Singularity will shape your summer of 2018 the same way Immunity did of 2013, and all power to it.

A great, and fun, album.

Bon Voyage is a foray into the world of spiritual healing and rediscovery through a various musical textures and emotions.

The sound of a band still in their creative prime, MMXII is everything Killing Joke have proclaimed themselves to be these past three-and-a-half decades, and 15 albums on is just as incisive and coarse as their debut.

Simply, it’s back to what it was all about in the first place; writing cracking tunes and just being boys in a band.

There may be plenty of meat left on his bones, but for this fine album to take the plaudits it truly deserves, we have to hope that there are many with open ears and hearts. Richard Hawley: troubadour in chief for this generation.

This is a proud record that is best played loud, and often.

Hitch is a startling achievement of creativity. It doesn’t reinvent The Joy Formidable wheel but it refines everything they’ve done until this point and presents their most complete package yet.

Outspoken and even prone to some fairly loony conspiracy theorising, The Ecstatic thankfully does not become such a platform, and is a refined selection of strong tracks, which skilfully tread the balance between tight beats and forthright exclamations.

A turn towards pop has alienated some fans of their earlier work, but almost everything here could be released as a single, and that’s an undeniably winning achievement.

Fight Softly isn’t in the same league as Clouds Taste Metallic however, which, let’s face it, is among the very faintest of criticisms, but the fact remains that it is slightly hit and miss in places.

Thirty years in arguably the most significant act to come out of the American alternative underground of the Eighties has clearly not dimmed Moore's desire to explore new territory, and this record is as much testament to that as any of his many others.

One day the mainstream is going to claim him and he'll lose a little something, but for now he's still the prince of the misfits and the martyrs, the waifs and the strays, Sundark and Riverlight is him at his distilled best, tears in his eyes, glitter on his cheeks, tragic, magnificent, ours.

It's a record that can be enjoyed on a simple music level, but also explored as an interesting take on a particular historical period.

Ultimately, The Rakes have softened their blunt and focused their attention to detail. This is a far more cohesive record but at the expense of the brutal urgency so prominent in their debut.

Instrumentally, subtle use of synths, keyboards and strings now embellish the sharp arrangements and add a new, more mature, depth to the bands sound.

With references to house, dub, and instrumental rock all stitched together into a looping, building tapestry that manages to be both visually and emotionally evocative, this is certainly an album that will keep your interest long into the next fad.

Lost Songs ain't a new direction for ToD. Far from it. But it's a frenetic, committed album oozing passion at every turn, and the world would be poorer without it.

His heart is worn clearly on his sleeve without becoming too overbearing and the final product is nothing short of profound.

Chura proves that she exists in a different plane where music for its own sake lies at the zenith of what one can experience and achieve in life, and is detached from the excesses of wealth and power it can bring. Here’s hoping there’s much more to come from this magical songstress.

It’s a proper album, in the sense that a divide is made at four of seven, the title track a segue between halves – its makers clearly bear download culture little respect, constructing their latest so that it’s best experienced as a whole, bridging arrangements as vital as the blustering bombast and constitutional inflections of grandly designed standout pieces.

Slight discrepancies aside, July Flame triumphs when the music is stripped and Veirs' reflective folk-pop and country-folk songwriting comes to the fore. As it transpires, July Flame is a treasure trove for the wistful daydreamer.

Lerner has every inch of the stadium-indie minefield mapped out and slapped in plain view on his sturdy pop-machine's fulcrum.

Waters is on fiery form, and you get the sense that by 1992, he’d finally settled into his own corner of the world a little more.

While there is still room for improvement-–the still clear Nine Inch Nails references somewhat prove that--Criminal will please both fans of the genre and intrigue potential newcomers, of which there will be plenty to this strange, niche genre.

Musically it’s the first half of the album that shows us a new side of Beyoncé, one that thrives in dark atmospheres and minimalism in a way her music never did before.

Death Lust is the sound of a band who has had enough being put down, pushed around and generally told to conform to a society they never really wanted. It’s the sound of disaffected youth demanding to be listened to.

Gamelan Into The Mink Supernatural basically embodies that: an album that might take a chomp at your fingers if you reached for the pause button. II is a bit like that, just not all the time.