Although the themes in the album vary hugely--uncertainty, fear, hope, regret--the quality and confidence of the music is consistent.

Whilst there are many other bands doing futuristic disco, many of which band members have worked with, NZCA Lines’ unrelenting quest for a great hook and massive chorus pushes them ahead of the pack.

Its persistent gloominess makes it a challenge to get through, but it was never intended to be just a simple alt-country album.

Moments of quality do intersperse these drags.

Luminous marks another fitting addition to The Horrors' increasingly untouchable catalogue.

Just another chilled, spaghetti western-atmospheric SoCal indie rock venture then? Glad to hear it, keep 'em coming.

You eventually wish they'd give the stadium anthems a rest and be more of that small band from High Wycombe.

Emmy the Great's debut is a triumph, with a maturity beyond her years, and with a humour no less enjoyable for being subtler.

A Broke Moon Rises takes a totally different tone and is all the better for it. The overall impression of sitting with A Broke Moon Rises is one of music being created as a comfort blanket: Pajo weaving a warm, familiar and enveloping sound world in order to soothe himself. Fortunately, it’s a generously proportioned blanket that can cover the listener too.

The second album from Cate Le Bon and Tim Presley carries the same sense of freedom as their first outing, this time a bit softer and more song-shaped than their debut’s meanderings.

Pete Doherty has made a solo album with Stephen Street producing, and the result is some pretty good music.

As a debut, as a mark in the sand, Gracious Tide, Take Me Home is an endearing and beautifully drawn modern folk record

Despite a magnetically bitter prescription, this album's strong dosage of darkness is tough to swallow in one sitting and even more difficult to actively enjoy.

With Marks to Prove It, The Maccabees have created a record of gritty intimacy. While there are moments of astonishing beauty (the sizzling brass and ethereal vocals of ‘Dawn Chorus’ is one of many examples), true intimacy means getting close to something, often in spite of its flaws.

Most of the remaining 11 songs on Dear God, I Hate Myself are built around sequencers and beats rather than guitars, and while they’ve by no means called off their flirtations with dramatic bursts of noise, they are only intermittent over the 38 minutes

Whilst this ceaseless good feeling will be too much for some, even those who don’t list this style of music amongst their interests may find enough variation here to keep coming back, as each song differs enough in its construction to warrant repeat visitations.

Dave Grohl is a veteran -- the world does not need another record from him. The world needs Obits.

If debut In The Court Of The Wrestling Let's was the giddy spin of a colour wheel, then Nursing Home feels ever so slightly more unified in tone and shade, and, if not exactly refined, than certainly a little tighter and more focused in its abandon.

There are times though, when the record slips into a degree of smug self-reference that leaves you wishing that Lewis would spend less time considering what it means to be a songwriter, and more time just being one.

The Soft Moon's mission to transcend all levels of tolerance and pleasure via the conduit of sound is well and truly accomplished.

When Grossi nails the sweet spot between these two poles the result is nigh-on perfection (Curtis Lane’s 'I'm In Your Church at Night' and 'Hanging On' from 2011’s gorgeous You’re All I See to seize on the most obvious). The disappointment with Mercy is that he never quite finds that spot to the same extent.

Composition is one of Bailey's specialties, and she quickly rebounds from even the tiniest missteps.

It’s not so much sidestepped the perils of the second album as trampled them, taking the sound that won the band all those packed festival tents and driving it forward, matted and bloodied like Miles Teller at the end of Whiplash, no longer weeping and withdrawn but pulsing and alive. And it’s genuinely exciting to hear.

It’s vital for the maintenance of Gallows’ present profile that they curb their enthusiasm for experimentation and pushing the envelope of aggressiveness to some degree, and by doing this sensibly, they’ve produced an album that’s big on surprises but that also ticks the essential boxes of heaviness and melody.

The result is an album that is often brilliant, sometimes breathtaking, and never dull.

Konkylie is an impressive, accomplished collection of songs from a band coming into their own. They've succeeded in accomplishing what all so many artists strive for: cleanly synthesising their feelings and thoughts into sound.

Without the filter and guidance of a strong writing partner, and without a personality able to temper his every whim, much of this album contributes to the argument that Paul’s output urgently calls for restraint.

Between the Times and the Tides is advertised as his first 'rock album' which makes it sound more abrasive than it is, although it packs more of an aural punch than Thurston's latest Beck-helmed Nick Drake tribute album.