What it fundamentally lacks is the underlying rhythmic sensibility that adds an extra dimension to Fuck Buttons and gives them the scope to develop a track from simple beginnings to a euphoric, cacophonous conclusion. By stripping this ingredient away, Power is left with something that's often beautiful but also strangely static.

The tunes here are good enough to warrant repeated listens and when the album hits its stride, it's got a couple of proper anthems. It's not trying to be anything particularly clever or innovative--and it's fair to hope for some sort of evolution for a second album--but the trade off is a satisfying one.

It makes sense that the conceptual gravitas behind an album like this wouldn't have enough fuel for 11 songs (the originals of this scene weren't necessarily known for their full-lengths) but it certainly would've been amazing to see him pull it off. Specific, loving, authentic, but limiting, it may leave us wanting more--but there's no doubt that John Maus made the album he wanted to make.

That he has bared his soul without revealing his identity is perhaps the hallmark of the modern singer-songwriter, but don't expect him to remain hidden for too long. With emotions this strong, the mask is bound to slip some time.

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.

[Where We Go] is far and away the most interesting, listenable yet challenging, thing on this patchy and unfocussed album.

The record is obvious and contrived; but bass is bass, a drop is a drop, and a banger is a banger – no matter how much guilt the enjoyment brings.

It's All True, although slightly patchy, has a generous handful of these moments of inspiration.

The sad thing is, Gomez has one of the most pleasant and distinctive voices of her Disney cohorts, but she's let down by an album of weak songs that try too hard to be family friendly. Back to the drawing board for this cartoon pop star.

Foster The People make infectiously good music, don't stick to a formula and make you yearn to lie on your back in the middle of a field, feeling the hot sun streaming down on your face.

Those fiercely loyal fans will be very pleased with In Your Dreams, a pit stop in her canon of rock folklore.

So minimal and calm is much of The Harrow & The Harves that Six Horses comes as something of a shock. It displays the same studied but honest approach to American folk music that characterises the whole album but adds harmonica and, yes, handclaps!

Working on many levels: entertaining, thought-provoking, musically satisfying and yes, still pretty funny too in parts; YACHT might not be genuinely looking to save your souls, but they certainly have more to offer than most other sects that you might care to join.

Atari Teenage Riot in 2011 are as raw and self indulgent as they ever were, and while their comeback record won't seal their place in history, those who loved them the first time around will lap it up.

The album sees a succession of warm, hushed acoustic guitar textures provide an accommodating bed in which Nadler's flawless vocals can rest. The hazy sound and crepuscular feel to parts of the album recall fellow vocalist Hope Sandoval, or occasionally a more fragile and more gothic Cat Power.

It sounds odd for a genre like this, but Tunnel Blanket might be best approached with a shut-down brain, ignoring the tired qualms of originality, and just let the atmosphere envelop.

WU LYF are a band to celebrate, a DIY tour de force, and their first album deserves a place of reverence in the modern indie-rock canon.

Sometimes Simon suffers from a sort of elder statesman's churlishness or cynicism (like a musical version of Grumpy Old Men), which is not entirely appealing, and some of the songs seem a little under-developed. There is, however, enough here to suggests that new Paul Simon albums should be bigger events.

As an exercise in maintaining artistic form, it's an indisputable success.

Cabic and Monaghan deliver an album of relaxed, low-definition loveliness, and it's hard to begrudge them that.

A painstakingly constructed and constantly challenging work, Mirror, Mirror requires considerable perseverance to allow its unorthodox appeal to slowly seep into the listener's consciousness. Its sheer relentlessness and absence of hooks will undoubtedly deter the less adventurous, and runs the risk of alienating and confusing some of their existing fan base.

This is a fun indie pop record that will not change anyone's lives but will get you bouncing off walls very easily.

Creep On Creepin' On is a richly textured, intriguing piece of work that bears up well to repeated listens.

Light The Horizon could very well be their best album to date but, at just 10 songs in 34 minutes, it will not be enough for fans, especially the new ones that are hearing them for the first time.

The landscape has changed a lot since Gomez first broke down the door, announcing their arrival. This shouldn't take away from the fact that Whatever's On Your Mind is decent enough, as albums go, but you feel it's been preceded by too many slight returns to make new ground this time around.

The King Blues are much better when they're angry and making music to riot to.

He has been launched into the UK jazz marketplace fully formed, capable of extraordinary flights of dexterity and rhythmic trickery, yet also with a strong sense of fundamental musical language and compositional flair.

A return to form, then.

So the odd mis-step aside, the death of Arctic Monkeys appears to have been greatly exaggerated. Rather, this is another intriguing evolution for one of the country's great bands, and a shot in the arm for Britain's rather moribund 'indie guitar' scene.

Without a doubt, the hooky riffs and unforgiving pace make it a fantastic rock album in itself, but only Fucked Up would chose to play out a tragedy to this soundtrack.

Remember that We Have Sound was an impressive debut, but it wasn't quite the flawless diamond of popular memory. So it is with Leisure Seizure.

It never quite matches the standard of its predecessor and ultimately it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that their sound is just a little too different and unconventional to see them rise above the status of a minor cult band.

Mostly, though, it is the unusual, the artificially-generated and the unexpected that characterise this music. Where this works best--as, indeed, it does on most of this compelling album--the band manage to corral the diverse elements together into something that is more than simply cohesive.

Bejar has relaxed his vocal delivery a little here, perhaps to better blend with the rich, shiny detail of his music.

After the divisively funky Evil Urges and Z before it (which quizzically drew comparisons to Radiohead, of all bands), Circuital feels somehow both grounded in the soil that spawned it and operatic in scope.

Hardy's undeniably a talent, and Songs Lost & Stolen is a tasteful, better than average folk record that many aficionados will enjoy, but it lacks that extra ingredient to make a lasting impact or reach a broader audience.

While it's not a classic album, Ukulele Songs is a lively and enjoyable LP that easily warms the cockles.

This is Vernon leaving the seclusion of the forests and, as many of the track titles suggest, moving through towns, cities and open spaces.

For those unwilling to ride his digital wave of collapse and partial reconstruction, Farmer's mythological re-enactments will seem essential.

Since Gelb started working mainly as a solo artist, these collaborations have arguably been his strongest, most convincing works. His collaborators have provided challenging but appropriate accompaniments for his florid musings.

No embarrassing side-project, Let Them Talk turns out to showcase heartfelt and sensitively handled musicianship from one of our finest all-round entertainers.

For all the humming and picking, the songs feel too similar to each other to hold interest throughout.

In writing this stunning, emotive album Sarabeth Tucek has not only dealt with her own grief, but will undeniably help others in a similar situation, a perfect way to commemorate her father.

The album's coda lacks snap--as if 13 tracks was too big an ask--and while increased cynicism lends One Thousand Pictures extra weight, it is not a catch-all. Still, here be treasure... and a little sand.

This album will bewitch with the impact of a classic and sets a benchmark to progressive singer-songwriting that doesn't compromise. Moore has created a thing of wonder.

The record is blitzing, happily ludicrous, and plenty of fun for a while, but at the core there's Gaga, singing beautifully but clouded by all the readymade pop around her.

Paddywhack is probably too unassuming and restrained to make any impression on the wider public. That's a shame, for if you can be bothered to seek it out, there are some genuinely gorgeous moments that sound like nothing else out there right now.

In trying to make himself standout as an individual, he may have gone too far on his album GOB and scared off any potential mainstream listeners with his far-out style.

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.

In the end, then, it's as if Austra are old hands; Feel It Break could be them overcoming difficult second album syndrome with aplomb. Goodness only knows where they can go from here; such peaks represented the end of the road for The Organ.

his is a very heavy listen but with enough subtle dynamic changes to keep it interesting and fresh and proof that there is still plenty of life left in a genre that will, at some point or another, burst into life.

Still, for all its buzz and energy, Women's Studies does feel frantic and maybe even a little cluttered, as if Murderbot has felt compelled to insert a passing reference to every genre of music he has ever appreciated.

Those who have managed to adjust to the attention deficit techniques of FlyLo or Prefuse 73 should have little problem in embracing Lynn's new approach, particularly as it appears to have resulted in one of the best albums of the year so far.

On the remainder of Time Travel, Alessi's Ark sounds like she can achieve mainstream success purely on her own terms.

[Cellist Alexandra Lawn's] expressive and engaging vocal contribution on You And I Know--along with its woozy, waltzy rhythms and shoegazey guitars--make this the only truly memorable song to be found on this otherwise disappointingly, frustratingly ephemeral collection.

W is the work of a restlessly experimental yet surprisingly accessible maverick at the top of her game, and may well herald the breakthrough to a wider audience that its creator richly deserves.

Colour Of The Trap may not spring any surprises but it's easy to get caught up in Kane's beguiling web of '60s sound.

By introducing the concept of rap as therapy through expansive, rambling tracks (that are admittedly a bit too trying on the patience to be played repeatedly), Tyler has certainly set himself apart from the endless sea of new young rappers.

Burton's Rome is a fascinating re-envisioning of romance and danger. It has all the components of a classic and makes for the perfect soundtrack to inject something wonderful into a dull day. Richly rewarding.

Own Your Ghost is a brilliantly conceived work, deserving of much more attention in the UK.

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.

Let's Wrestle have certainly crafted the sophomore album we all expected from them. There's little, beyond even that Albini attachment, that strives beyond the aspirations of a general set of rickety punk tunes--but at the same time, everything here is working wonderfully as intended.

All but a handful of the tracks on Disc-Overy are quite ruined by this appalling Black Eyed Peas gloss.

Too many of these tracks sound like empty afterthoughts, or half-baked studio incarnations, needing more embellishment or maybe just a general reimagining.

The album's overriding impression is that it is an album cut from the same cloth as The Strokes' This Is It - bright, clean melodies with just a touch of gain, song structures you're hard pressed to forget - and an effort that marks Darwin Deez as one of the foremost exhibitors of compelling lo-fi.

More dancefloor domination beckons for the Danish trio--and these tracks should once again work a treat live. Let's just hope they don't leave it too long.

Into The Murky Water allows some of the band's earnest demeanour to shine through, but ultimately it lacks the spark of its predecessor and it's difficult to love.

Past Life Martyred Saints is an album that leaves a mark.

Earth Grid does what it does and maybe that is the sole objective, an obtuse experiment in the metrics of engagement. Some will undoubtedly put this on headphones, stare into the middle distance and find a place that only Osborne can open for them. Many will ignore it.

This is some of the most welcoming music Gang Gang Dance have ever pieced together – less diffuse but still rewardingly complex, without any of the clutter that could occasionally overwhelm less patient parties.

While it stands apart, this is an evolution that will please both Wild Beasts' early adopters and the many converts that will surely follow from what is, without doubt, one of the stand out releases of the year.

It's their best and most accessible work to date, while somehow not sacrificing any artistic credence.

Much more petulant and moodier than previous albums, I Am Very Far swirls around in an illusory motion in which all manner of sounds and textures spin and whirl around the ubiquitous figure of Will Sheff; unwavering and untouchable, residing within the heart of the album's hidden emotions.

That is a mere side note, however, for Interplay is a consistently strong piece of work, as good as anything Foxx ever wrote when striking out on his own in the early 1980s.

In the end the record greatly exceeds its perceived strengths, building and out-doing itself over its 40 minutes.

The rest of the 13 track album sounds like a mix of Latvian Eurovision Song Contest entries and The X-Factor winners' songs; an unmistakable, cringey 'life affirming' theme runs throughout, with the obligatory twinkling electro loops.

The duo neither pretends to revisit its successful past nor claims a faux renaissance, instead opting for an honest, if solid, collection of songs.

What elevates this album beyond the simply cerebral is the simultaneous pop sensibility that pervades through it.

It won't be a surprise with such an approach that The Body of Christ... has its weaker moments, but it almost seems to miss the point to care. Fight Like Apes delight in their own cackhanded methods, and the odd sloppy sample or laughable lyric are merely grist to their deliberately anarchic mill.

There's more than just a niggle that Free isn't breaking new ground. More disturbingly, the album is a wasted chance to build on Vivarium, and isn't as good as so much of the music it tries to emulate.

It's not spectacular but it is a reliable and solid effort. Whether this is a pivotal moment for the genre remains to be seen.

It's neither an easy nor a joyful listen, but tolerate the unrelenting gloom and it is never less than absorbing.

What we're left with is a sincere, patiently crafted musical statement that is high on atmosphere but rather hard work.

In a decade dominated by rappers who obsess about their cars, clothes and women, it's nice to be reminded that MCA, Mike D and Ad-Rock are still out there, keeping it fun despite all the haters.

Helplessness Blues sees the band finally reach the top of Barringer Hill and set off in majestic flight over the sunshine blessed countryside.

This could be interpreted as a murky world of drug paranoia, or it could be a response to possible political disinformation and spin. Either way, it has made for one of UK bass music's most intelligent and consistent full length works.

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.

It comes armed with a pocketful of melodies and great musicianship. But yet somehow it doesn't convince. It's hamstrung in part by its length.

It's an album far more than a parasite riding the wave of a traumatic situation, with a confident protagonist at its heart.

In Talahomi Way The High Llamas have produced another album far greater than the sum of its component parts. It is unlikely to create any major impact on the current musical landscape but it augments and improves it in its own special little way.

The more you listen to this record, the more it falls into place and traps you under its spell.

There are enough moments on here to convince that Woon is a very special talent.

The lingering sense, though, is one of repetition. Now the novelty of her songwriting has worn off, she needs to find a whole new language again.

On the whole Start And Complete is a singular and fearless album that conveys significant emotion, rewards repeat listens, and shows what can be achieved when a band's approach to music is defined by bravery and vision.

This collection of tracks lacks that vibrancy and spark needed to linger long in the memory. There are a few sunny moments here and there but ultimately it's disappointingly flat.

While The Golden Record is far from perfect, and occasionally falters and fails to make the impression it should, there is much to recommend here.

This album shows that Times New Viking seem more likely to be comfortable in front of a crowd rather than a mixing desk; it is worth an enquiry but with a little more application it could have been much better.

The jury will be out for a long time while they argue whether this is dance, classical or jazz but they're sure to deliver a thumbs-up for this far from amateurish collection of tracks.