I only wish that they had given us something with a little more substance rather than the bland mess we’ve been left with.

A bit like returning to your home town, it’s a little bit different but essentially the same every time, and there’s always something comforting about that.

Get Hurt is the most brooding, ashen release yet, and not quite with their usual sombre charm.

It’s clear that, especially now they’ve released Lacuna, Childhood are indeed making the right kind of noises that’ll ably assist them in making that important career leap from dreamy infancy to artistic maturity.

You get twelve colourful washes of sound that work well on screen, but in terms of the band add up to not much more than a interesting EP.

Volume X certainly appears to have more than enough subtle moments and hidden delights to ensure its longevity.

Whilst the exposure of O’Sullivan and Tucker’s pop heart has been more than welcome, one senses that there are many more sides to this complex, stubbornly esoteric collaboration that are yet to be revealed, and that’s an exciting thought indeed.

Whilst so many hazy albums of this kind struggle to engage on a level beyond superficiality, Sea When Absent--if you’re willing to genuinely invest in it--throws up a plethora of fresh subtleties with every listen.

Confidently frail and hesitant, LP1 is a refreshing reaction to, and a calm assault upon, the unfathomably fast-paced total noise of the current age.

Despite being released in weather incongruous to its content, there's so much heart to this record that it simply demands to be absorbed.

This is a record that nurtures and works around feeling, clawing its hooks deep wherever you lay most vulnerable. Sensual is most definitely the word.

It’s an unapologetically impressive and precise record that could do more to reach out and connect, rather than just dancing off, expecting the listener to follow.

The album is an enjoyable hodgepodge that trades neat cohesion for scattish variety.

All together, The Voyager’s balance of frothiness and fearless introspection make it something pretty special.

Adventurous and bold yet distinctive in execution, No Time represents Dan Reeves' most essential body of work to date.

Purists will lap this up, but ultimately, as lovingly constructed a tribute as this is, there’s an unavoidable sense that Clapton is preaching exclusively to the choir.

This represents their first attempt at creating a bonafide album and when all's said and done, they should be proud of their achievements.

It is a record to indulge in, one melting synth note at a time.

Pe’ahi is an uneven reinvention, but it’s a brave one, too--the manner of its release isn't the only surprise that comes with it.

It's worth a listen for its high points--but it needs more unity.

Everything Infinite is perfect for summer, it has a few beautiful tracks and is constructed masterfully, but you can almost hear the fan chatter describing the outfit as 'that band who sound like Tame Impala'.

From Scotland with Love stands testimony to the increasing genius of Anderson and his craft.

It might occasionally makes for heavy listening, but Passerby skilfully turns quiet melancholy and dignified sadness into a thing of subtle beauty.

It might not be the freshest, most original sounding record you’ll hear this year (it could have easily been released at any point in the 25 years without eyebrows being raised), but it terms of solid yet somewhat subversive indie-pop enjoyability, you will be hard pressed to find something better.

It doesn't cut the deepest on first impressions, but those undulating tones of utter desolation seep beyond skin deep with every fresh listen.

La Roux returns on its own terms, with at least five minutes and 40 seconds that capture tremendous artistic growth and expression.

Ironically, listening to most of EX feels like watching a film with the sound turned off.

Sébastien Tellier has a tendency to tackle substantial topics, and it often smacks of dilettantism.