As it is, they're more than quite good, and all the better for the tracks that surround them.

It’s a shame, because there were some genuinely good ideas on We Can Create, but Chapman seems to have no real sense of direction for this album, and thus the end result is wholly unfulfilling.

Tarot Sport doesn’t pause to bang or whimper. Tarot Sport accelerates.

Logos is a gorgeous, hallucinatory and somewhat sickly outing.

The album serves as a classic case of frontloading and one gets a sense that the first six songs would have made a better standalone EP, buying the band yet more time to craft something a little more interesting.

Take The BQE on its own terms and there’s plenty to enjoy.

Individual tracks will wax and wane in popularity, and the genitalia humour of 'Sugar Lumps' et al might attract a wider audience who don’t understand the deadpan atmosphere of the rest of the show, but it’s hard to grow tired of this peculiar couple and their music.

On The Real Feel it seems that he’s buckled slightly under the pressure of having his own full length, with his own space to breathe and experiment, and has instead decided to play it straight down the line.

Tracks like ‘My Step’, ‘Feather’ and ‘Blinking Pigs’ have that unique ability to transcend seasonal musical folly, there's nothing 'now' or 'then' about them - you can listen to them any time, anywhere, any weather and still be pretty pleased.

Axe To Fall makes good with an appetite for reinvention.

Like many of the tracks contained therein, Geneva ends up far from where it began. But this is not a record defined by where it starts and where it finishes--it’s what there is to take in on the way that counts.

As ever with Themselves, there aren’t really highlights or many changes of pace – it’s full-on, all the time; you don’t get skits between songs, just a second, third or fourth gabbling vocal line within these ten, unconventionally concise songs.

New Clouds is as good a record as any to soundtrack disconnection from deep thought.

It’s not often you find music that lives and breathes with such conviction that you find itself swept away in the charm of it all. That Do Make Say Think have achieved this lofty standard yet again shouldn’t come as a shock, yet it’s testament to their enduring talent that, at every turn, Other Truths continues to surprise and enthrall in equal measure.

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.

As it is, Espers have moved towards new territory, stumbling occasionally, but with a clear eye on where they’ve come from.

Linguistic detective work aside, engage with natural scenery through scattered sound, this album does.

When a soundtrack works this well, with each track slotting naturally into a strongly cohesive body of work, you begin to wonder about the clamour that is sure to come from bands and singer songwriters to put their work forward towards featuring on the next film's soundtrack.

Fanfarlo are similar fare, and that’s a perfectly fine thing to be. The band make pretty, guitar and organ-led indie, with discreet swirls, parps, and trills of brass and strings.

What it really all boils down to is your tolerance for lengthy psyche records, which is what Embyonic undoubtedly is.

It’s Bob Dylan’s Christmas gift to you, delivered with warmth from his heart, even if his tongue is in his cheek. Like eggnog, it’s something that will always go down well once a year, even if it is probably just the once.

Throughout the record the ooo-oooh swoopiness is enchanting and the constant SNES-soundtrack bubblings take you back to a simpler, more tranquil and ultimately a place filled with hope.

Pictured on the album’s cover taking aim at a heart-shaped pinata, Thao once again sings in a way that conveys both breathless astonishment and world-weary wisdom.

They've remarkably managed to raise the bar to a whole new level for an entire genre with Third Fact Fader. A triumph over adversity if ever there were one.

It’s a crushingly un-exuberant album, powered by neither anger nor joy, howls of rage nor whoops of exhilaration, not revelling in any particular aspect of the band’s music, nor kicking against any pricks. The lyrics dabble with outsiders and the odd bit of queer imagery, but there’s nothing revelatory, incendiary or revealing.

It's here and it's almost perfect.

The quiet simplicity of these songs is better suited to Fink’s lone voice, clear without a jumble of voices and complex harmonies, strengthening the continuity of the storytelling.

Kings and Queens is a resounding success. Okay, maybe it's a tried and true formula that Jamie T and Ben Bones have created, but their textured, layered songs each have something new to offer upon every listen, and they've mastered the art to near perfection.