the overall sense is that they [The Roots] have reignited him [Costello], the combination of one of England’s great lyricists and production from arguably America’s most forward-thinking band resulting in a crisp, funky, even dangerous sounding album as political and as relevant as anything this year.

Seems Unfair not only trumps No One's Coming for Us lyrically, but musically too. Yes the comparisons for Waxahatchee are still there, but now Jones feels more comfortable and confident with his style of song writing and is starting to come into his own.

The whole record comes in at almost exactly 30 minutes - a nice round number that allows for ten songs of in and around three minutes each - which keeps it punchy and makes the whole thing move: no time to get bored, here comes the next song, anyway

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.

Five years on, BBNG stand poised to write jazz standards for the next generation. In some circles, you’d call that progress. But for folks that turned to BBNG as infiltrators, rebels, the razor edge of the new--in those circles, you’d call that a sell-out.

A Different Kind Of Fix is an evolution of baby steps for Bombay Bicycle Club and one which will leave you wondering if Jack Steadman and co are ever going to burst into full bloom.

Despite the aimlessness of much of FRR's second half, nailing it is what BSS do brilliantly. There are enough moments of standout glory in the first half to sate any fan of this band, whatever part of their work they admire.

If it is indubitably more soundtrack album than bigshot solo debut, this record certainly provides irrefutable, definitive, official proof of O’s talents as a songwriter in her own right.

It is ceaselessly pretty, breezy and undemanding (in the best possible way), boding extremely well for future material.

Before Spotify, this album could have qualified as a pretty decent starting point for anyone looking to bridge the gap between 'Friday I'm In Love' and 'Primary'. Now you can just arrange the studio polished tracks into a playlist, this kind of release is demoted to the status of fan favourite.

Pierce and company might never release anything as tight and high caliber as their debut album, but they are heading in a new direction while still remaining staunch pioneers of the heavy synths and reverb style that warranted them attention in the first place.

By completely altering their focus, Wolves in the Throne Room have both carried on the strong tradition of black metal reinvention and proved themselves as composers with a distinct, if not world-changing, voice.

As a complete body of work, the album stumbles in very few places.

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.

Legacy collects about a decade of Boo recordings under one roof, although there’s no obvious arc of progression here--he’s consistently out on a limb, and with very few exceptions (‘There U Go Boi’, ultra-pitched-up and relatively linear ghetto house), this could only have come from his brain.

Throughout Fantastic Planet her music sounds ordered and restricted. It’s a sound that suits some but, given that previous Noveller records thrived on unfolding at their own pace, the jury is out on how far Fantastic Planet benefits from being constrained by its determination to fit preconceived structural limits.

There's a delicacy, a deftness of touch throughout Total Loss that's wondrous.

This is an often bold and sometimes brilliant offering, even if its heart is more mechanical than you may hope for.

As a collection of well-trod leitmotifs, Fudge Sandwich functions more as further folklore in the Segall autobiography than a mere cursory look at the tracklist would suggest.

As a first achievement, the album it manages to inject a degree of zest into the songs from The King is Dead, jolting them from the somnolence which occasionally bogged their studio equivalents down.

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.

International is brilliantly pop in substance and spirit.

This isn't the best album John Legend or The Roots have made, but it's not going to go down as the black sheep of either canon.

A thorny, earth-stained treasure.

Big Doe Rehab is another valuable insight into the skewed world of Ghostface away from Wu’s taming Shaolin stylings.

I Never Learn is by no means a failure--the highs are grand when they come--but it has a tendency towards bombast and shallow self indulgence that sees it edge dangerously close to the fringes of mediocrity.

What stops it being Great, as opposed to great, is the feeling that Machinedrum's basically working his way through segments of his music taste, having a crack at one after another. That is to say, he's a follower, one now signed to a label that's often been a haven for innovators.

The outcome is both comfortingly retro and exhilaratingly fresh, a modern twist on a classic dish, the aural equivalent of Natalie Coleman’s 'pimped' roast pork belly and quail scotch egg that triumphed in the 2013 Masterchef final.