Confess isn't just steeped in the sounds of an era, but in its films, feel, stories and sense of aspiration. It's an album about love and lust behind the bleachers, in the dark of a multiplex, on the back of a motorcycle, in bathroom cubicles, under the neon glare of America's bright lights - and it's wholly, wholly brilliant.

Hearing one of these songs by chance would be perfectly inoffensive, but listening to an entire album of them just feels like a chore.

By its very nature this is a more cohesive work than "Cassadaga," and a fine, true one at that: evocative, sporadically inspired and resoundingly enjoyable, repeat plays paying dividends.

Truth and parody meshed together in an altogether confusing and ill-conceived manner.

With the current renaissance of the one-man band genre, it's pleasing to see that we now have a modern-day figurehead worthy of rock’s glorious past.

12 immaculately crafted slabs of grandiose sound.

At times the record does dip, as some tracks don’t seize your attention quite as strongly as they might. But all-in-all, BSS have made an album that trumps any cynicism that they may have faced, and in the process Hug of Thunder is as hearteningly unguarded and positive a record as you are likely to hear this year.

Despite the album peaking early, though, there's more than enough evidence here to suggest that Hauschka, thrillingly, is just getting into his stride.

This, likewise, isn't for every occasion--and perhaps not for everyone--but for those who do chance it, an immensely rewarding work that feels like much more than music.

Cheatahs might not have done anything especially new on their debut record, but they’ve delivered it in such incendiary fashion that it’s impossible to ignore.

Why?'s fifth record seems more of a sure-footing; a reminder that this band that at one point was so exciting, is still able to surprise and move you even a decade on from their crowning achievement.

The great thing about Blondes is how they move through such simple ingredients as a decent bassline and a tight groove, and end up in some tripped out wonderland after nine minutes of hedonistic bliss. On Warmth, they’ve traded that sound for something a bit harder and more immediate, which doesn’t end up all bad, but does sacrifice that elegiac joy they used to perfect so readily.

The production values on Watch Me Fall are hardly epic, but the guitars and keys slide out bright and clear, melodies unfettered by anything beyond crystal-pure hooks.

At only ten songs, it hasn’t the broadness of past, but it is possibly their most cohesive record. Consistency may rarely outrank greatness in order of virtues but if there’s an argument to be made, it’s perhaps found here.

As the listens pile up--one realises suits Traditional Synthesizer Music (both the album and the notion) more than anticipated. A welcome return to top form.

While it’s very much business as usual--groove-led-Stooges-acid-pop with added screaming--it sounds so gloriously Mudhoney it offers a thrill akin to Popping Candy fizzing in My Little Pony blood.

Abandoned Language is a much more direct affair than its predecessor.

Diehard fans needn’t worry that Autechre have diluted themselves in that respect, for Oversteps is still a challenging listen, and one which reveals endless layers of new detail with each spin. But it’s also their most instantly rewarding – and arguably best--album to date.

Unfortunately, despite his illustrious CV and unconventional route to the release of his first album, it proves to be a competent, but disappointingly conventional affair.

The Loveless brothers’ way with a one-liner coupled with their dexterity with rock dynamics is what sets them apart from their peers.

Whilst Return to the Ugly Side undoubtedly sustains an affective mood of unease and intrigue, it ultimately falters in its structural underdevelopment.

For a band still very much in its infancy, Sports is an astonishing body of work far beyond any kind of expectation you'd put at its creators' feet.

He may be pushing boundaries and himself less urgently than before, but in doing so he’s made his most palatable and varied record to date.

On #N/A the skill of the trio (plus one) is more than evident, it’s just a shame they didn’t try and inject just a little more variety into the mix as well.

As an exercise in creativity, musical form, experimentation and sheer art, then, Reflections is to be commended, but as a standalone body of work it’s somewhat lacking in the substance, sculpted precision, urgency and depth that made Elaenia such an enthralling proposition.

If you ever enjoyed the accessible moments of long-standing US indie-pop acts such as Modest Mouse or Built To Spill, but longed for them to stop with the eight-minute wig-outs, Skeleton is probably the album you’ve been waiting for; from Denmark via America.

It is, in a word, magnificent.

Cape Dory is a more than satisfactory introduction to the world of Tennis and their travels, and perhaps unintentionally, one of the more unique additions to the current penchant for all things lo-fi in a Spectoresque kind of way.