There’s nothing here that has not been done before, and it’s almost too polished for its own good, but she sounds more at ease with her sound than ever before.

The Sunshine Underground has managed to take the band’s signature big hooks and beats and transform them into something bigger and more relevant, Orton’s contribution a key aspect.

With only five tracks and little in the way of audible lyrics or melody, understandably As Light Return tends to blend into one rather murky whole. That said, after repeated listens, individual song strengths do gradually emerge.

Heading back in the direction of their louder MBV influenced roots, married with their clear confidence in producing dreampop, could be the way to go to produce something more unique. Because when the noise comes, it comes in spades--and it’s simply irresistible.

This may not be an album you’d revisit often, but we should be very glad that it, and its unique, maverick creator, exists.

Despite the classic approach of most of the songwriting here there’s no doubt that it’s a step up in quality for Nesbitt and the result is her most assured and confident collection of songs yet.

Musically, I’m Not Bossy is pure pop with a wonderful glam mindset, but there was certainly more lyrical attention needed for it to succeed its intended purpose.

At times, you yearn for the presence of a strong editor in the studio.

Overall, Galore has some fantastic moments, but remains a thoroughly uneven release with some serious thematic flaws that Thumpers will hopefully iron out by their sophomore album.

Angus & Julia Stone have succeeded in sounding like a lo-fi Australian indie version of late ’70s Fleetwood Mac, and although this record is no Rumours it is without doubt the Sydney siblings’ best effort yet.

This release was unusual for the band in that it was accompanied with the lyrics in the liner notes, however, so the words that are sung, muttered, chanted and whispered are available if needed, on this most beguiling, dream-like and ultimately just-out-of-reach release.

Unfortunately, it must be said that the results of this musical experiment aren't always as successful as they might have hoped.

Overall, I Love You, It's Cool is a solid, but unspectacular, return from Bear In Heaven.

Digital Native is an album that is fragile and elusive. Its main weakness is that are too few moments to really catch onto amid fleeting moments of beauty and invention.

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.

Taken strictly as an aural experience, it’s a brave and sometimes moving work that nonetheless falls well short of success.

A fun, engaging record.

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.

While there are resemblances Spiritualized, what should be a slow burning record, white hot in its intensity, is laid to rest sounding rather limp and uninspired.

Smug, smarmy, metropolitan critics might declare the album generic and derivative, but the kid undeniably has tunes--more tunes than such people have ever written even in their wildest rock star fantasies.

It’s stupid fun, but In My World is also a surprisingly intelligent release with quite a few surprises.

Though it’s hardly a full-blown reinvention, The Getaway shows that even after more than 30 years in the business Red Hot Chili Peppers still have something new to offer.

Though scattershot emotional mayhem, this album is a resounding triumph.

Listening to this album is rather like a lucid experience that you never want to wake up from--and it is Sankey and Warmsley’s most impressive record to date.

At 10 tracks, Endless Flowers gets in, does what it does best and gets out again, leaving a stunning corpse with beautiful cheek bones.

An album that could just see Hemming and company add some more fans in addition to their celebrity admirers.

Waking Lines may not always hit the mark, but for a debut effort it offers lashings of promise for Patterns’ future if they can either hone their songwriting skills or take a detour down the lengthy drone-pop street

This is basically a gang of extremely accomplished musicians in their 60s getting together, who have no need to break any new barriers. As such, it’s another worthy entry in the canon for this particular gang of heroes.

The rest of the album plods along nicely, Healy's lullaby vocals soothing their way through single Buttercups and sure-to-be follow-up single Anything, which will sit quite happily alongside the likes of Driftwood and Sing.

Familial is a solo album that has qualities you might not have expected to begin with: vivid, memorable lyrics that describe a variety of emotions, its incredibly soft arrangements and, of course, the fact that he can actually sing, proving wrong the famous 'drummers are not frontmen' rock'n'roll myth in the process.

Despite it taking four years to come out, pretty much all of the songs on Always Tomorrow are forgettable, and made up of riffs so basic and hooks so anonymous that you’ll probably end up wishing they’d have waited a little longer.

Without wishing to unduly gloss over the intermitting albums, Outbursts captures and builds upon the intangible beauty of their debut effort. Turin Brakes are, once again, a must-hear.

It's not a bad record, but by The Zutons' own extremely high standards, it's a disappointment.

The result of the flawless playing and polished production, however, is ultimately a too-perfect sound, lacking drama and grit. With his darkest years behind him, Wilson seems willing to use only the brightest colours in the paintbox.

The record drags when it should soar.

Salute is an undeniably solid album, and has a lot more going for it than similar efforts from many of Little Mix’s pop peers this year.

It might not break any new ground but there'll be few albums this year as enjoyable as this one.

Neither virtuosic nor devoid of a sense of pitch, he achieves something equally important to both in terms of significance--believability.

While it hasn't got them to their destination, this album is a definite step in the right direction.

A well crafted album that takes a fascinating journey through the history of American rock music, geography and pharmaceuticals.

While there’s no doubt that Fire Within is a positive progression for Birdy, it is not without its faults. On occasions she does slip back into the formulaic territory that encompassed many of the covers on her debut.

At times feels too regimented, leaving you wishing that he would just relax a little and drop the self-consciousness that gets carried along through the tracks.

Whenever Carpenter sings, the music seems to adopt different qualities--more reflective and melancholy perhaps – but not in an introverted way. Her tone is also brighter and more outward reaching. It is this further meeting of worlds--unforced and compelling--that makes Motorcade Amnesiacs such a successful work.

The term ‘easy listening’ is a little taboo these days, often replaced with the more benign label ‘ambient’, but these ditties represent the former in every meaningful sense.

Transparency is the sound of a band restlessly searching for a new direction and pulling it off very well.

As nice as it is (and this is a very tasteful album, seemingly tailor-made to be bought for Mothers Day), Angel Face doesn’t give us much idea of who Stephen Sanchez is, apart from a seemingly nice young man with an extraordinary voice.

While Polari might not be destined for as many accolades as the all-conquering Brat, it establishes Olly as a solo artist to be reckoned with.

This is certainly an album of progression that is likely to win the band plenty of new fans, but it shouldn't alienate their fanbase either.

Apparitions is merely a debut album from a young band who know their way around electronics and textures a hell of a lot better than most other young bands. And although at times it seems like they're copying right off of Merriwether Post Pavilion's paper, they muster just enough creative vision to avoid lawsuit-level infringement.

The Cat is back, albeit more of a moonshadow of his former self and lacking some purr and bite.

As a whole, Dreams is a bleak affair, Diamond sounding often forlorn and beaten, most notably on a morose, slowed down reimagining of his own 1966 tune, I'm A Believer, which became The Monkees' biggest success.

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.

So, while you couldn't call this effort beige, it is still clear to see that it is lacking the necessary punch to make it a classic.

The Mary Onettes have mastered the art of writing catchy four-minute tunes without compromising themselves, but nor do they take any risks.

The vibe is almost complete but not quite, and it's puzzling.

How good is A Weekend In The City? At times, it's brilliant: bold, forthright and honest.

New album Delta Machine is about more than simple fulfillment--going one further to actively excite, as it lays the template for some of the band’s most vigorous, energetic material in 15 years.

On the strength of his recent chart performances, Harris is currently riding a crest of a wave, so he's clearly doing something right. But it feels like he's sacrificed some of his creativity in favour of simplistic and unimaginative output.

This is a filler-free exercise that sees the band appealing to their purists and pushing their output forward at the same time.

Fortunately, there are a handful of songs here to be able to do that [listen and enjoy], if only fleetingly and not particularly in the original Hurricane #1 mould; for most of us though, we’re just happy to still have him around.

At times, Alpha Games does hark back to the glorious early days of Bloc Party, and while this doesn’t quite measure up to Silent Alarm, there’s enough evidence that the band’s line-up changes have reinvigorated them.

When you get him on his own he's up for a big night out. Just don't expect him home til dawn.

May not be groundbreaking, but it's a solid first album.

It makes for interesting listening, sitting sonically as it does between Frahm's minimalism and the rich swathes of A Winged Victory For The Sullen.

Compared to some of Primal Scream’s bold ventures in the past, it may be a bit lightweight, but it’s full of effervescent appeal.

A return to form, then.

This album does indeed show a band running with a newly discovered sense of freedom.

There are enough highlights here that make this a very enjoyable, if unvaried, record.

It is hard to ignore how limited, both musically and lyrically, the Darling Arithmetic tracks sound when played alongside their predecessors. However, despite its limitations, Villagers’ latest LP does succeed in producing some very worthy reinterpretations and weaving them seamlessly together, which is often easier said than done.

It’s easy to appreciate and admire, but difficult to enjoy.

It may not contain anything as seismic as 'First Wave Intact,' from their debut "Now Here Is Nowhere," but the band's self-titled third album reasserts the Secret Machines identity whilst revealing a fragile underbelly.

It is better than the eponymous debut, although not to the level that their self-satisfaction with it would suggest, and there is still a distinct lack of consistency and a feeling that occasionally while you can see who and what they're aiming at, they miss quite considerably.

Therapy is a well-balanced record that plays to Anne-Marie’s strengths, complete with glossy production and hooks to keep the avid pop fan humming.

Eerie, melancholy and yet strangely soothing, The Deserters is an album to treasure, whatever the season.

They have made a patchy record that’s very much intended for loyal followers who have completely bought into their long established aesthetic.

They’ve never really risen to heights that maybe they should have scaled but with so many infectious pop melodies lurking under the fuzz, it’s just as remarkable that they remain on the periphery of their genre.

For the length of the album, at least, Kings Of Convenience do a standup job of convincing the listener that loud is long forgotten, and in these violent, uncertain times, quiet is king.

This album is, however, a huge amount of irreverent fun, and provided you approach it with that in mind, you'll get plenty of enjoyment out of it, especially when turned up loud at a party.

For anyone wanting to hear a genuine progression from the blueprint laid out by "Play" and to enjoy the calmer, more ethereal and undeniably sadder side of Moby's music, Wait For Me is worthy of further investigation.

Faust have produced 12 tracks that perfectly encapsulate what they can do so well: to create catchy, bizarre sounds. It’s Popmusik/subversive all over again.

More than any other record Wasser has produced, this one feels like it’s purposefully going for accessibility. This is not at the expense of creativity for the most part.

There are standout moments of beauty in the sound they make--usually when pausing to gaze upon the full sun--but these reveries are the exception rather than the rule, and just as the listener is absorbing them, along comes a guitar to wrench them away.

The album sees Crossan as a distinctive producer once again, after the events of the past few years threatened to leave him faceless.

A nice Christmas present for that hardcore Killers fan in your life, but most casual observers will be happy to give this a miss and wait for the third album.

Rihanna's appearance aside, Mylo Xyloto is everything you'd expect from a Coldplay album.

An at times minimal sounding album with steps and layers that build towards something. The music and the art stand apart, but they’re inevitably intertwined.

1990s have not made a bad album, but like the decade itself Kicks never lives up to its promise and contains too many derivative and unmemorable moments.

The past is somehow devoured, processed and regurgitated to form a completely refreshing and new substance; this is heavenly stuff that marks a departure from the modern sound.

By producing a more polished, more accomplished sheen while The Killers have roughed themselves up and forgotten to shave, the two bands have moved towards a middle ground where they're virtually indistinguishable.

Some good moments then, but overall Funeral Party fail to keep the energy levels up.

This is what could be termed a healthy dose of parent-friendly hip hop, though now and again it threatens to spoil its reputation as it comes close to one of those dreadful ‘friend chip' adverts.

There may come a time when Crystal Antlers' potential coalesces into a great album, and will be greeted with true accolades, rather than a better-luck-next-time send off--unfortunately for us all, Two-Way Mirror is still pre-natal.

Despite a few moments of middle-of-the-road excess, The House is a shockingly good album--that is, not actually amazingly good, but just shockingly by Katie Melua.

This is more of a curate’s egg of an album than anything else.

This might be a ride through familiar territory but The Proclaimers specialise in steadfast song writing and this is sure to satisfy their legions of fans.

For now, though, Dark Young Hearts can perhaps best be considered a troubling, worthy yet ultimately unloveable misfire.

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.

In total, The Still Life is a spry and rewarding sonic balm that doesn’t outstay its welcome.