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.

Cosmogramma is dense and devotional, Ellison piloting his craft into the fading slipstream of his aunt Alice Coltrane's cosmic strain of jazz. Not that it's jazz, exactly. Well, no more than it is techno, dubstep, chiptune, P-funk, IDM and, by no means least, hip-hop.

Together does not scale the heights of Mass Romantic and Twin Cinema, but then, The New Pornographers have already made Mass Romantic and Twin Cinema. This is something new, something hopeful.

In essence this is their most fluid recording, unbroken by exploratory concerns.

It's little surprise that Mondo Cane is an album that--65 piece orchestra or not--is built around Patton's personality and voice, rather than his lyricism in the traditional sense. It's this continuity which lends it an appeal beyond mere authenticity and curiosity, to the listener prepared to devote a little time and dare I say it, research, into the album's background and source material.

More! as an EP would have packed more punch and avoided the pitfalls of consistency which plague albums of every genre. Nevertheless, it is a good album, and perhaps the only tinge of disappointment is the knowledge that they could have done better.

In Evening Air employs a clear formula where guitar and synth play off each other, where at points they're indistinguishable. It's this close partnership that gives the record an architected feel.

By shirking an introspective approach, he has succeeded brilliantly in wending a line between intricacy and intimacy. The output is a genuinely majestic creation, brimming with a richness of substance to both enthral and devastate.

With barely a duff song here bar the minor irritations mentioned earlier, Tourist History is an infectious debut that may well divide opinion, but at least suggests that amidst all the uneasy listening and obtuse noises coming out of the underground at present there are still those capable of writing the odd tune or ten.

On many levels it's immediately obvious that Nobody's Daughter is neither an awful record, nor a great one.

The record could be accused of wearing its influences a bit obviously, but as Wilco, Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev borrowed from Neil Young, progression essentially comes through a degree of regression and, although Avi retreads familiar ground, he still adds his very own unique footprint to his band's debut.

Over 13 tracks Transcontinental Hustle casts its spells, a record that fairly howls at the moon.

Our Inventions feels terminally lacking in ambition and new ideas and a big step backwards for Lali Puna. The music is safe tweetronica, Trebejahr’s vocals inscrutable like a tasteful wallpaper.

It revels in a soulful, brassy buzz that sounds great from the offset and even better on further listening: Swift’s production fantastic and Burhenn’s vocals genuinely spellbinding.

Paul's Tomb: A Triumph has two distinct modes – those slowburn instrumental passages, and the lyric driven, quicker, melodic segments. Frog Eyes succeed when the joins between the two really 'flow', when the segues work.

Judy Sucks A Lemon For Breakfast is a vibrant collection of songs that further illustrates the importance of Cornershop over the past two decades.

Sleep Mountain lacks both the urgency and unhinged fervour of Arcade Fire and the inventive mischief of the Flaming Lips.

His music really is art for the ears, with hues, colours, textures and aural brush strokes dripping with vibrancy and imagination.

Like a Shakespearean monologue you're either going to be living every moment with the narrator or gazing on indifferently as your attention drifts away. For those in the former camp, this is a challenging listen where life mirrors art in a profoundly resonant way.

My Best Friend Is You is, indubitably, rather daring for a mainstream pop album. Yet for all the Butler-begat polish, it's hard to work out whether it really is a mainstream pop album.

Overall though, Travellers In Space And Time is a fascinating collection that won't be everyone's cup of tea, but should at least cement its creators cult status for the forseeable future and some.

It goes without saying that they still possess a die-hard dedication for that certain herb, and if you don’t smoke the reefer you shouldn’t go anywhere near this record; it will leave you colder than Cheech and Chong’s Arctic Adventure

It’s a surprise that the band managed to get through those weird four years and make such a consistent album--from front to back it’s exceptionally well sequenced.

Ultimately Thing is an album that exceeds expectations, not to mention revealing new trajectories with every subsequent listen. Whether a heavy indulger or casual fan of electronically based music, it's hard to envisage a better record than Thing emerging from any of its sub-genres this year.

This is one for the ‘pleasant but unremarkable’ file, and it seems that’s all the band was striving for in the first place.

While Erickson provided the 'text', Sheff had to present it with the right level of reverence, being careful to highlight, and not undermine, this record of struggle and redemption.

Congratulations is no more impenetrable than the Flaming Lips at their most commericial, with Sonic Boom offering a bright, upfront mix that keeps the baffling array of omichords, guitars, sitars, synths, organs and FX percolating in dynamic, uncluttered fashion.

These old balladeer's tales are fleshed out with metaphors and all the tricks of a great writer. The burble of guitar lines complement it all artfully. That doesn't mean the criticisms go away--there is a lack of invention within any genre, and too often the lustre dulls.