Everybody Down is powerful and gritty and it tackles subjects such as sex work and drug deals with wit and subtlety beyond measure. It’s just not as good as it perhaps should have been from such a prolific talent.

Death Is This Communion slays in all the right places, but had it ventured into some of the wrong places we might’ve had an album really worth dribbling about.

It’s a messy record, in the best possible way: organic and live sounding, with few overdubs and little complication, tipping its hat constantly to its retro inspirationg.

You can’t help recognising a kind of supreme inspiration behind the thing, fuelled alternately by manic rage and exultant gratification.

Focusing on expanding the limitations of a genre that’s still very much in its infancy, Wonder Where We Land proves that the SBTRKT name is still very much worth following second time round.

Oh Fortune is full of unashamed, orchestrally embellished pop-rock-folk hybrids, instantly accessible and almost as speedily rewarding.

While Rebel Heart is greatly superior to her last set, MDNA, it suffers from the same malaise of of overabundance.

A modest release, Tribute To will obviously be of most interest to My Morning Jacket and George Harrison admirers, but the quality of the covers deserves a wider audience.

Apart from that and ‘Micro Chip (Say No)’--which succeeds ‘Rebel’, closes the album and suffers from autotune abuse and the claim to be “the sons and daughters of Bob Marley”--Jungle Revolution consistently hits bullseyes.

It’s clear with Violence that Editors are working to build upon their new sound instead of re-inventing and re-producing, and though their efforts of combining dark indie disco pop with more morose lyrics and guitar undertones, it is a refreshing new direction.

Underworld have forsworn the well-trodden path of replication and opted instead for another path. Gone are the tub-thumpers of yore in favour of understated, yet nevertheless, euphoric electronica bursting with hope.

From start to finish, the melodies are sweeter than sugar, the music bright and sparkling, with Rhys' charming falsetto resting on top.

Folk Songs probably won’t soundtrack a woman exhorting you through your flatscreen to buy yoghurt in the foreseeable, but it will be received with a deserved warmth by an established cluster of fans.

Fucking insane, whatever way you listen to it.

Twilight Of The Innocents is surprisingly, frustratingly, bafflingly good.

Four albums in thirteen months may have led to a case of familiarity breeding contempt, but it still feels like the first half of this album is treading water from a songwriting point of view. The second half is a fine musical journey, and if this were a vinyl record (it soon will be) then maybe you'd just put side two on repeatedly.

Here Belong have depersonalised an already stark landscape, making a record that's easy to admire but hard to love.

It’s an emotional record.

This represents their first attempt at creating a bonafide album and when all's said and done, they should be proud of their achievements.

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.

MMorningside, the debut album from Auckland’s Fazerdaze, is a dream-pop record with both of its feet on the ground.

This is yet another dance album that avoids the pitfalls of stringing together separately conceived singles.

Although White People doesn’t break any of the barriers ‘So…How’s Your Girl?’ did, it is none the less a graduation.

Ultimately, it's an enjoyable record, but one that's more likely to point you in the direction of their original influences than achieve notability in its own right.

[The title track] may not be very Bonobo, but it is very beautiful, and--like much else on his latest long play--begs to be listened to.

Okay, at times the journey might seem a little too long--Miss Tambourine Wrist' does grate with repetitive ideas--but for the most part, the pacing between the slow death like marches and the adrenaline injected thrash falls are executed brilliantly.

If you expect anything that deviates from their cemented formula or a radical reinvention, then Junto is not for you. If you are happy to enjoy the ride while it lasts, it is the perfect soundtrack to an Indian summer.

The balancing of ironic humour that raised a smile on earlier albums is absent here, which leaves us with almost nowhere to hide.