Acoustic Dust, really, is one for Youth completists; it’s not that Ranaldo doesn’t possess a mastery of the acoustic guitar, but rather that he’s failed to adequately display it on an album that sounds every bit as hastily recorded as it actually was.

Pushing her quirks even further and adding new sounds to her toolkit are obviously admirable attempts to deepen her interest. But there needs to be more in the actual material to bring the listener out into the cold with her.

This is The Fall, live, in a variety of undisclosed European locations (who knows where? Only MES, probably, if even him), one of this land’s (which land’s?) greatest ever groups, still hurtling forward, still thrillingly, still bafflingly, with their full-bore wonky-wheeled tenebrous, anomalous, glorious grooves-aah.

It holds its own but without the moments of genius to elevate it to anything more. There’s no ‘Love is the Drug’, no ‘More Than This’, no ‘Slave to Love’ here. Ferry’s fans though will enjoy this and, given this is a man that even Morrissey professes to enjoy, there are plenty of them to satisfy.

There are a lot of great songs on Islands, lyrical depth is partnered with enough melodic and harmonic twists and turns to keep things interesting. Underneath it all, though, there lies the sense that here is a band who are playing it somewhat safe.

What ultimately makes Condemned to Hope a real success, however, is not so much any of these things but the sheer conviction with which it delivers the goods.

The music is extraordinary, but the format is yer basic pre-Chrimbo best of (and the same goes for the 20-track 2LP).

Broke has instances of stunningly original songwriting and there's rarely a dull moment, but it's more a kaleidoscopic 'story so far' than a complete manifesto.

While occasionally striking like a brilliant, blinding lightning bolt, they all too often seem to ride a wave of bleating mediocrity to multi-platinum heights.

If the album looks back more than it looks forward, well, its makers have earned the right to a reprise. But then again, it wouldn’t work so well if they hadn’t managed to evoke something timeless all along.

Seeds is a credit to their bassist’s memory: staying true to the TOTR ethos of writing music that yo-yos between genres, its 12 expansive tracks make for a compelling and frankly splendid record that you should seriously consider adding to your collection.

It is very easy to get lost in this record, but there is a miraculous balance that holds everything together.

The rest of the record is a confused meander through some of the lesser known backstreets of this over-familiar band.

Röyksopp have always married darkness to their beats, but here, across more than an hour, it’s too unremitting to welcome repeat listening.

It's careful yet effortless, passionate yet distant but above-all, wholly unique.

Hookworms never come across as arrogant, showy or self-indulgent. They have managed to follow a logical musical progression which will undoubtedly blow many minds.

Everything sings here, no matter how dark the matter at hand.

Stars still occupy a unique position in the pantheon of the last 15 years of indie rock, but with every No One Is Lost that goes by, they look a little less likely to pull off another Set Yourself on Fire.

RTJ2 is replete with razor-sharp lyricism and clattering, abrasive production.

This really does come very close to the top of the pile. An essential opus from a truly essential artist.

Songs is an accomplished second album, that sees Woodhouse building on the foundations of electronica-tinged outputs that you'll quite easily appreciate and enjoy.

It might not be much in the way of a surprise for those who’ve listened to ‘Thrown’ or ‘Looped’, but working from divergent influences is rarely simple, and Kiasmos iterates on the ideas explored in these earlier tunes with serious skill, electronic and traditional influences so tightly woven together that the LP maintains a very definite sense of identity throughout, and is pretty much impossible to poke holes in.

Taylor Swift may not be challenging societal norms in the same way as Beyoncé, Lady Gaga and my own band CHRIST ALIVE are, but she’s relatable and that counts for a lot. I spent a surprising amount of 1989 rooting for its protagonist and sharing in her triumph.

Unflesh is a truly brilliant piece of work, and the sound of an artist trailblazing through as of yet uninhabited territory--here's hoping it's only the beginning.

Too guarded to reveal much of Mulvey's personality. Too low key to remain long in your memory.

Consistently, from beginning to end, on Suck My Shirt, The Coathangers have shown themselves to be songwriters of real ability.

The record is at its best when kept simplistic and spontaneous, but for much of it you sense they have thought about it a little too much and become a little too self-aware; for a band like Deerhoof that can lead into some pretty iffy territory.

Ruins is at once more formally stately than those [previous] albums, with Harris accompanied only by a stiff piano, and more emotionally obtuse, her lyrics back under a slight veil, taken out of the stark glare that made songs like ‘We’ve Become Invisible’ so touching.