Their next release might be a whole ‘nother curveball, but this is a treat on its own terms.

Born Under Saturn sounds like what it probably is: a bunch of smart musicians having a great time.

This is nourishing pop music at its most immediate best.

Comparing Homesongs to Love and Other Planets, as is sadly unavoidable with a debut and its follow up, reveals the former to be the more immediate, the more melodic and the more understandable. However, Love and Other Planets, despite a glossier overtone, is the detailed, developing record.

Overall, another great album from one of the UK’s best underground talents who may not remain so underground for long.

Abandoning the abstract art-rock ideals of experimentalism and pushing the rhythm section further out onto the dancefloor has resulted in a sweet spot for this type of storytelling. Still, this isn’t music to be taken in completely on the first listen. It’s eerie, complex, heart wrenching even.

The record is bookended by the heaviest tracks, and 'Uncle Frank Says Turn It Down' picks up where the opener left off. ... The middle section of the album is more explorative with the metallic, bending and flexes of ‘Europa’ creating an unnerving interlude after the ruckus before it.

Long time fans are going to lap this up while newcomers will likely be wondering where this band has been all their lives.

They're one of only a tiny handful of bands currently using retrospective influences from the past to create something relevant and unique for the present and beyond.

Plague Park possesses an unsightly surface layer of cluttered sound and alien screeches that require swift penetrating to enjoy the sticky gooiness that resides within.

While reference points are few and far between throughout Locus, those that linger are of artists equally as disparate in their output. Which is why Great Ytene stand out as an anomaly themselves. A record worth investing money, time and effort into.

The Staves have added all sorts of bells and whistles to their sound. They all work.

On New Gods there’s a sense of logical progression, an aim of expression that might have been missing from some of his earlier work.

There’s a lot more going on besides, maybe a touchstone too much at times, but you’d have to have either incredibly specific or incredibly boring taste to not find some gold herein.

After the misfire of Living With The Living this is a content, relaxed record with nothing to prove. Ted Leo is a man un-fussily playing to his strengths.

Post Plague provides the perfect soundtrack to an incendiary apocalypse only its creators could foresee. On this evidence, the invitation to join them is seductively tempting.

Just like some of the better acts from that period, Breakfast suggests that Teleman’s music will stand the test of time.

Stripping away the frills, at heart Major Arcana is a mournful treasure that asks to be celebrated.

There’s a marked step forward in the deceptive depth of Sun Coming Down, and Ought perhaps traded in some of their debut longplayer’s immediacy in getting it, but their wit and emotional complexity remain stronger than ever.

Senses pummelled and synapses shredded, Holding Hands With Jamie represents anything but an easy ride. But then reputations aren't earned lightly, and Girl Band have earned theirs as the most excitingly coarse noise rock outfit on the planet through sheer guts and tenacity.

VOIDS is testament to a band who have never rested in their creativity, and have managed to rebuild and recreate while holding at their core the things that made them brilliant 15 years ago. Have a listen.

The climax brings an emotional resonance to proceedings that confirms Rolo Tomassi's impressive ability to cross these genres and moods and influences but still sound undeniably them.

Hayman has given us a beautifully crafted love-letter to the real humanity that is the soul and centre of socialism, both sad and sweet, melancholy and inspiring--a collection of songs that belong to everyone and cement Hayman’s place as a nationalised treasure.

With Native Speaker, Braids project dreams onto iridescent lakes and marvel at how they glimmer, and the results are every bit as lovely as that sounds.

Beautifully brutal weirdo punk.

Acolyte certainly won't be 2010's most adventurous album, but it's not trying to be. Instead, it's almost certain to be one of the year's most immediate and assured records, particularly for a debut, boasting any number of potential hit singles.

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.

It's short (36 mins), but deep and heady, the sort of record that worms its way into your head and stays there, leaving a faint imprint on your psyche.