It’s that eclectic and restless nature that makes I Hear You one of those rare dance albums that sounds equally at home in the living room or in a club. Expect Peggy Gou to be the soundtrack to all the hottest barbecues and beach parties this summer.

Underneath all the references to rampant sex and general debauchery, there’s very often a beating heart at the centre of Merrill Nisker’s work. No Lube So Rude is yet another exhilarating, essential entry into her canon of work.

Yet, despite these slight missteps [Fear Machine and Delusion Pandemic], VII is a fine addition to what is already a solid musical canon.

While it’s possibly a bit too similar to First Mind to have the same sort of impact that album did, this is still a powerful demonstration of what a fine musician Mulvey is.

While a few too many tracks fall into formula, now and again a track appears which stops you in your tracks, such as Lovato’s cover of Tears For Fears‘ Mad World (using the Gary Jules/Michael Andrews template, which sounds even more effective and eerie in this context). If anything, the album ends up becoming tripped up by its own ambition.

Throughout, there are salient reminders that Metric, despite never quite breaking big commercially, are experts in writing a memorable tune.

Greenfields is a fine reminder of just how legendary a songwriter Gibb is, and while there’s no big surprises contained within, a Volume 2 would be a very welcome thing.

They peddle freeform sleepy jazz with hypnotic percussion you'll either want to lie in front of for hours or run from screaming.

Beach Music will almost certainly push Alex G into the wider consciousness, and rightly so.

Although there’s a lot to enjoy here, with the band on something like the crisp, playful form of TNT, the best moments seem out of place and the rest a bit meandering; while previous releases have always felt thematically strong, even while jumping stylistically from Ennio Morricone soundtrack-isms and cool jazz to downtempo grooves and minimal drum and bass, it’s hard to pin down exactly where this is aimed.

The Triad edges ever closer to the purely experimental, with another tentative step rather than a bold foray into the electronica wilds, but for now it’s a worthy diversion from the well-trodden paths of other techno producers.

Gloriously free of filler, it would be an easy and enjoyable task to eulogise every track on Changing Of The Seasons but it seems a little brash to over-stamp opinion on such an individual and immersive listen.

The first disc (Niggas On The Moon) is not the finest thing Death Grips have ever put their name to.... However, the second half, Jenny Death, is better. A lot better.

A fun, varied and defiantly old-school record which is pure Coldcut.

So far so good--and if anything it gets better.

The whole sonic approach on Abolition Of The Royal Familia is at once a lot more coherent than The Orb’s previous record, the transitions between different genres and moods more methodical and well-paced.

Television is an essential purchase for fans of West African artists, but should also be investigated by anyone who loves heartfelt, impeccably performed music.

So the album sees Interpol trying some new things, leaning on some preconceptions and loosening some of the ties which have previously bound. And it makes Marauder an extremely rewarding listen.

Angst-rock is promised, but power-pop is ultimately delivered.

A perfectly paced album, but despite the elegant sequencing, there are definitely tracks you’ll come back to far more than others.

Overall, Happy To You is a solid if unspectacular second effort, one that disperses moments of brilliance with the occasional filler track.

This record is laced with intention and ambition, as well as a hunger and fire that keep it together, just.

The grace is still there, but something far more engrossing has now been added to the mix.

Sometimes Everyday Life’s restless quality can be its strength, at other times it makes the album sound unfinished. It does mean though that it’s resulted in Coldplay’s most interesting album for many a year.

Unfortunately, such small moments of inspiration are only peppered throughout, and they're not enough to make up for an entire album of ramblings.

In Ponytail, that long-ago art project seems to have spawned the real thing – a band with an imprint and sound all of its own, with much of joy to share around.

Nothing on 24 Karat Gold comes close to classic Fleetwood Mac songs, but long-term fans will delight in hearing decently recorded versions of tracks that they may otherwise only have heard as scratchy demos.

The album is largely built around two (very similar) styles, and can blend into one cloying whole, but this music is built for the summer. It’s tailor-made for being on in the background while you drink, dance, barbecue and copulate your summer away. On that level, it all works.

In common with a fair amount of Little Dragon’s previous output though, New Me, Same Us seems to work better in small chunks than as an album as a whole. There’s something about the smooth, glossy sound that means that, after a while, each song seems to merge into one.

Whilst each of these tracks was created to serve pre-existing imagery, the beauty of presenting Hecker’s compositions in this way allows the listener to create their own interpretations and visualisations. Shards is far more cohesive and affecting than its formation suggests it should be.

As usual the lyrics feel like they were written when stoned, but the music still shows creative engagement.

Blue Roses is a startling debut, a record that oozes warmth and charm whilst revealing itself slowly and patiently.

There’s more than enough contained within to confirm Butler’s genius at resurrecting the early spirit of house music. This will be the soundtrack to many a party over the summer months.

While his charisma and star power remain undimmed, too much of this record is – pun intended – style over substance.

Not giving a little more is a problem that hangs over the end of the album, and for some of the more rabid fans of The National it’s something that they’ll consider a problem for the entirety of Return To The Moon. There are some bright and poignant moments here though, but, like the majority of The National’s work, the depths of the album may take a while to become apparent.

It’s by no means a bad album, but at this stage Chairlift are strictly second division.

The Men have clearly reached the level where they can turn their hand to anything and, once again, it has worked a treat.

Ventriloquizzing is a real night time album, and should be enjoyed as such--just don't expect an abundance of melodic pop hooks and you'll return for repeat prescriptions.

With a natural ebb and flow, Curve Of The Earth is both a new departure for the Mystery Jets and their most consistent and rewarding album yet.

Tired Of Tomorrow presents with a clearer, crisper sound than its predecessor. To call it clean would be neatening it up too much, but for better or worse it does feel sleeker.

Love Letters is great. There’s potential here, and it feels like it had the ability to be a nigh-on perfect record, but for reasons obscured--probably the brick-subtle lo-fi-ness--it feels unfinished. It’s like a final draft.

While there may be a few wrong turns on Clinging To A Dream, Simeon is still creating vibrant, challenging and exciting music.

They are sketches--nothing more, nothing less. But it all changes on the final, aptly-named, track Opulent Decline.

Somehow, all this variety works well more often than not.

It seems Pala is Friendly Fires' successful attempt to translate their positivity-injected carnival live performances into a record. In the process, it just so happens they've delivered what deserves to be the soundtrack to the summer.

In the face of personal and public devastations, the friends have avoided inertia and constructed a garish and cathartically atonal album that unbelievably manages to avoid catastrophe.

A genre defining release and a welcome return to boundary surfing music.

Delicacies lacks the pop craftsmanship and euphoric electro of Attack and the singular outstanding tracks of Temporary Pleasures, never attempting to introduce vocals to supplement their evident ability to create an intriguing techno dance track.

Twelve years may have been time to labour too much over some ideas, but there are core moments to this that show an intelligent and important band still stretching the parameters of what’s possible for a rock outfit.

Though undeniably powerful, Desperate Ground does become a bit monotonous due to the lack of variety of mood and change in pace.

The BQE is a lushly extravagant score that merges quite easily into Sufjan's grand catalogue. All who lend an ear to his opus will look upon the titular thoroughfare with a kinder eye, even if that view does not have the benefit of reminiscence.

We should be happy that a superstar is still committed to delivering quality LPs in an environment that frowns upon such commercially unwarranted traditions, but we should be especially grateful that that superstar is Beyoncé.

The softness of Helen Marnie's voice against the rocky, stark landscape of Velocifero gives Ladytron its edge (something that doesn't work as well with the two tracks sung by Miro Aroyo in her Bulgarian tongue), but overall, it's never really enough.

ten days finds him in a state of flux, running through a variety of styles, and while the results aren’t perfect it’s certainly his most interesting album yet.

As with many debuts, AlunaGeorge’s album has remarkable highs but is tempered by a few weaker moments.

While Blue’s electropop soundscapes are hardly a great move forwards from their first two projects, there are genuinely majestic emotional moments to savour here.

The movement towards synth pop is arguably a risky one, especially considering how congested that particular market is already. Yet, Cymbals show enough promise on The Age Of Fracture to suggest that they are in it for the long haul.

They've made an album that is bold and commendable, and nothing like as preachy as it might have been.

Baldwin is probably destined to remain a cult concern, but this is beautifully crafted chamber pop that deserves to find a wider audience.

Love Is Dead is not a terrible album and it certainly has its moments, but it’s not as engaging or interesting as its predecessors.

It is a hugely impressive piece of work, and subsequent listens will reveal further layers and melodies you missed first time around. Don't delay the induction a minute longer.

As such, those looking for an eerily familiar--and often brilliant--throwback to the sounds of 1972, please enquire within.

It’s a confused collection of songs, but there are enough gems here to suggest that they’ll come good soon enough.

Setting out their stall with the strength and affirmation of the birth song 'Bubbles,' seemingly inspired by the arrival of Booth's first son, James gather themselves with an impressively solid stature.

As it is, New Material is now their fourth release. It may be the most consistent of the lot, but it isn’t the strongest. That accolade, for now, goes to their previous record purely because of the variety of textures and tones. But it’s exciting to see what comes next.

Born In The Echoes does not reveal anything startlingly new about The Chemical Brothers, but it is more than them simply ticking over, and clearly they have an eye on the future.

Eagulls have not just expanded their sonic palette, they also explore far weightier questions about life through their lyrics. As a result, the record instantly comes across as a more advanced and mature proposition compared to its predecessor, which was more interested in instant thrills.

With mystique to spare, it's a record to cherish.

The album, when taken as a whole, is simply too much. When taken as individual pieces, it works much better – and there’s simply no reason for it to be this long.

There’s everything from glitchy pop, dance tracks and emo rock on this album, but a key message, Smith’s unique vocals, and a tendency towards electronic earworms, make it a sonically cohesive work that has just the perfect touch of modern life to make us feel something, but with enough escapism that we don’t burn out from it.

Rick Rubin has shaped their songs, smoothing down some of their rougher edges, but the end result is as rich and diverse as ever, helping them fulfill their musical mission with more focus, yet without compromising their eccentricity or their trusted formula.

These are very much Shakira songs, not merely songs produced by The Neptunes.

This is a real treat from a rapidly evolving artist and one of the year’s most purely pleasurable albums.

Under The Spell Of Joy didn’t quite achieve the transcendent ritualistic occurrence Death Valley Girls pointed to, but it should still win them a few zealous new converts.

Never less than dreamy, My Electric Family is endlessly inventive and rewarding.

For there’s a lot to enjoy on I Feel Alive, but the general feeling of lovelorn listlessness can take its toll on a full listen.

Dolly has invited you to her hoe-down, and it would be churlish to refuse. Just remember to leave your brain at the barn door.

Like so much of this vibrant, engrossing album, [Flesh And Blood is] full of the childlike joy and wonder that Orton has spoken about; a delightful return.

While Fidlar’s debut does have a tendency to wonder towards the mindless end of the spectrum, their eponymous album, for the most part, is actually quite accomplished.

While not a reinvention, Joyland does an excellent job of sharpening and streamlining Trust’s sound into something even better than that displayed on the debut.

American Utopia is epic, it’s sprawling, it’s filled with everything but the kitchen sink, but most of all, it’s filled with promise.

Live On Ten Legs captures 18 brilliant moments in the history of one of rock 'n' roll's most consistent bands.

LaMontagne has surrounded himself with the best possible company, and long-time fans should find that the payoff is something to marvel at.

Souls Alike is what Bonnie Raitt does best - superb bluesy rock, with Raitt on top form, both vocals-wise and on her beloved slide guitar.

They rarely take a step out of their neat little country twinged pop-rock corner. This is a real shame because these songs belie a musicianship that can produce work much greater than this.

This looks to be the album that has really brought the nomads that make up Hamilton's band together, and it's another Canadian triumph to add to an ever-increasing list.

Ian Brown just keeps on getting better. As it stands, his way seems like the only way to go.

Despite its promise then, Folk Songs is one of those albums that fails to live up to the sum of its parts. However, despite its faults, it is still an admirable stab and worth checking out for anyone keen on a back-to-basics approach to folk.

One of the most deeply satisfying aspects of this almost wholly satisfying album is the way in which the band succeed in the creation of moods and conveying of emotions.

Idlewild's Post-Electric Blues is a sweeping, large-scale record, packed with big, fist-pumping barnburners that would sound at home on either a large arena stage or in a raucous roadhouse.

Festival Bell is by no means perfect. It can, at times, become somewhat samey, and, at just over an hour long, could definitely do with a trim. But none of that's really important; because the music stored within Festival Bell's grooves is living proof that the venerable Cult of Fairport.

While it's unlikely that Neptune will have quite the sort of chart success Adele's 21 has enjoyed, it's a fine example of Eliza Carthy's huge talent.

Rare Bird Alert is every bit as good as its predecessor, and it's a delight to hear Martin and his band on form.

The Hangman Tree is certainly a decent sapling with plenty to like, but the love or loathe vocals mingle with the predominantly wonky atmosphere to prevent this from being a mighty oak.

As it is, Mountain Echo is a debut that is unlikely to offend, but it's unlikely to provoke repeated listens.

The only true misstep on the album is at the mid point in the shape of Steepless. For the most part this album's music is to be basked in, and after half an album of instrumentals, being suddenly presented with vocals is rather jarring.

With A Monument they have clearly shown that the have the scope and ambition to cross over far beyond that Portland milieu and establish themselves as a fine in their own right.

While the highs aren’t quite as high and the lows are quite a bit lower than they have been previously in his career, Mala might just be the grown-up album Devendra Banhart has been waiting a decade to make.