That they have dealt with personal strife and getting older while recalibrating their sound and their approach to songwriting is an impressive feat indeed.

A warm and personable record then, but one that doesn’t put its head above the parapet often enough to properly engage.

On Let’s Be Still, they sporadically do a good job of nagging at the heart, but fail to convince the head that this hasn’t been done better elsewhere, plenty of times before.

From the twin guitar salvos of Mark Goldsworthy and Liam Matthews through to Tom Kelly and Henry Ruddell's flawless rhythm section crowned by Mitchell's voice of reason, they're an unshakable and on this, their long-awaited first LP, an unstoppable force.

In general, Voices in a Rented Room is a pleasant if undistinguished record, two old friends revelling in each other’s company and mutual talents with the occasional moment of technical or emotional aplomb interrupting the bonhomie.

If ‘April’s Song’ is the low point of the record’s wanderlust--an affectless instrumental track that goes nowhere--elsewhere it blooms wonderfully.

The real genius of Tomorrow’s Hits is its shaking off not just fan expectations but the almighty shackles of credibility, innovation and, for want of a subtler term, corporate buzz-band etiquette.

Benji contains some of the most evocative songs about mortality and youth that have ever been written.

At times, it is derivative, channelling everyone from Passion Pit to Bowie himself, but it subverts both those acts by being excruciatingly personal and that is where Milagres' real strength lies.

On casual listen it’s a perfectly pleasant electro-classical record. But despite the considerable technical talents of its creator, it could be by just about anyone.

It is churlish to dismiss a band after one record, however: there is potential here for so much more. This record, however, is the most irritating one you will have heard in a while.

It remains, at its heart and in the best possible way, a very small record of considerable charm. Warmly recommended.

Close to the Glass isn't quite the luxurious auditory and emotional jacuzzi the Notwist's albums have been in the past. It's more a wading pool made of obligation and diffidence.

Each track is well structured and well-executed; never staying for longer than it should do or even doing anything on the whole that it shouldn't.

It might share some sonic similarities [to Sea Change], but it's an altogether brighter beast, built by an older, wiser soul who seems to have been taking a few years to work out exactly where he wants to be as an artist.

The Soul Is Quick is the sound of versatile talent who could easily rest on his laurels continuing to grow and evolve.

The songs from St. Vincent that you’ll return to umpteen times are front-loaded into its first 23 minutes.

Present Tense might lack the immediacy of both Smother and Two Dancers, but scratch away at the surface and its a record oozing with the precision and maturity we've come to expect from its creators. And in all honesty, it would be churlish to ask for anything more.

In spite of its gloomier mood, it’s a record every bit as spirited as Half Way Home, and possibly even more affecting.

If this is peroxide, it’s a heavily diluted solution; there’s certainly nothing caustic here, and scant evidence to suggest, as she protests to be the case on the title track, that there’s anything burning in her heart.

It's difficult to know where to stand with The Brink. It's vanilla, it's milk in tea, it's lager, it's a morning bowel movement. It just is.

Despite the immense joy of the final five songs, the prospect of a repeat play is a discouraging one when the first five brought forth a cynicism entirely unwelcome among a collection designed to elicit wonder.

You can’t deny that their intentions are good, but Let’s Go Extinct really is just missing that certain spark that’s required to lift it above the middle ground.

The mish-mash of styles on Dead makes for a globalised texture, an eclecticism that appears to know no bounds. For some, it may all be a little too much to handle. But if you’re looking for a thoroughly twenty-first-century record that’ll challenge your preconceptions and bombard the senses, then Dead is something that’s definitely worth your while.

Sun Structures is a record made with flair and skill by a band who know exactly what they’re doing--and that’s the problem. Temples are trying so hard to be something else that we lose track of who they actually are.

There’s a zip and kick to it, with big melodies (huge in the case of ‘Blk Stallion’) and clever turns of pace.

Nina Persson may have dropped the guise of A Camp, but Animal Heart is too emotionally unengaging to leave you feeling like you know her any better for it and compared to Colonia’s more colourful palette it feels, if not quite beige, then at best a dull taupe.

Ghosts of Then and Now floats just out of time and is as versatile a record as they come--your interpretation will change with each setting and mood.