Indeed, the first half of the album is a tale of peaks and troughs, its highpoint being the dreamy 'Hamster Suite' which bears similarities to both Deerhunter and Blonde Redhead in its opulent make up. The second half of Pussy's Dead fares much better.

It’s OK, it’s not bad, but it’s largely standard Weezer and the stand-out tracks are fewer and further between.

Patch the Sky is undoubtedly the record of someone not only haunted by their past but also the continuing difficulties faced in the present, but it is also a stunning example of Bob Mould’s resolve and ability to channel life, death, love and failure into two sides of meaningful and melodic music.

You can hear the anxiety, claustrophobia and desperation pour from every fuzzy guitar, from every snarl. Yet it is also a remarkably upbeat sounding record, with infectious riffs, thumping drumbeats and an overall rich, joyous punk rock sound.

Grapefruit is fabulous. It is challenging and it is fun.

Hitch is a startling achievement of creativity. It doesn’t reinvent The Joy Formidable wheel but it refines everything they’ve done until this point and presents their most complete package yet.

The first dip into this new Jacuzzi feels pleasant, since Sucker’s sunny party anthems fizzled out halfway through--but XCX lacks the finesse to turn this into anything beyond a mindless massage.

Literally, Potential comes from a place of empathy. So it’s not surprising that it’s best when it isolates all the feelings loaded into a single word or phrase.

Stiff is a hard record to dislike--sometimes all you need for a good time is some well produced, straightforward rawk n’ roll, a good throwback album to channel your inner guitar purist to. If that’s what you’re looking for, Stiff more than fits the bill.

This Is What the Truth Feels Like is half-baked in places and perhaps a little too safe in others, but it’s really, properly genuine, and if she doesn’t leave it a decade next time, Stefani might still be able to make a great pop record. It’s in there, somewhere.

Although Liima’s first offering is somewhat of a mixed affair, it is worth sticking with, for both them and us.

While not entirely unique, both [Mirrors and Second Encounter] provide a distinguished finale to Of Desire and one which suggests The KVB's finest hour might be just around the corner.

Ritual Spirit tantalises with the promise of a staggering force should the next LP surface soon.

The Last Panthers is a thoroughly original take on a very familiar aesthetic, and by sheer will Clark’s produced something that ranks amongst the very best of its kind.

This is essential listening and a likely cult classic for years to come.

If you do have another [James record], the chances are it’s stored away somewhere you don’t think about very often. The chances are, too, that The Girl at the End of the World, likeably well-intentioned as it may be, will end up in the same place.

There's enough on Chaosmosis to keep even the most casual fan occupied over the months ahead. As for those already worshipping at the altar of Primal Scream, prepare to be consecrated once more.

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.

Pere Ubu are somewhere in-between that--impenetrable musique concrete sound collages mixed with upbeat, breezy pop. A strange, strange world to inhabit, but one that’s ultimately as rewarding as it is frustrating.

Richmond Fontaine hardly deserves any kind of apologetic treatment, if for no other reason than You Can’t Go Back If There’s Nothing To Go Back To is a lively statement at the (supposed) end of a 22-year-run.

Love Yes feels like a radical step forward for the Brooklyn-based group. It’s a coming of age struggle wrapped in the slick, veneer of Eighties glamour, and ultimately TEEN’s synth-pop dreams are hard to beat.

The songs flow by and are engaging enough, but as soon as they’ve finished you’ve totally forgotten them.

Some sparks of brilliance fly in Instructions, but not enough to distinguish the spectacle of Heck from their recorded output.

It's so different from the majority of his previous output that it might take some time to truly get to grips with. The coherence of the whole record is a joy.

His dull lyrics get made more of a point of through repetition, they shine brighter than his well-crafted moments of introspection. There's only so many times listening to a man singing about someone waiting at a bus stop can be bearable.

The back end of the record seems to lose everything that is so great about Luneworks and replace it with something even better: a discordant, throbbing pulse.

As it stands though, Eraser Stargazer is the first time Guerilla Toss have been able to capture on tape their high energy mix of anarchic rock, their anything-goes scraping of strings and keys, those pounding rhythms, and that joyously smiling sort of youthful fury. In short, it’s the first time they sound essential.

This is music to (quite pleasantly) while away dozy afternoons, but it’s far from being as transcendently atmospheric as the many great records Roedelius has been a part of in the past.