This might sound like hard work, but in Hackman’s hands, dark and troubling scenarios are anything but. It’s testament to the sheer brilliance of her songwriting that can address difficult issues and still manage to make them sound positive and hopeful.

Yummy adds itself to the James canon as an album both for fans and newcomers, a triumph over prejudice and anxiety. Everyone is welcome here.

Move On With The Year is an album that manages to be both intensely personal and also universally relatable.

For anyone seeking a new sound, in this case a vibrant take on Balkan folk through the eyes of a Westerner, there will be no disappointment.

Perhaps not a headphone masterpiece, but a generous slice of frank and thought-provoking tracks regardless.

There are some songs, such as Deadly Valentine, that just seem to fall a bit flat, and considering that’s there’s only 10 tracks, it seems to be an oddly lengthy record. Yet, like most of Gainsbourg’s work, it oozes class and, at times, it becomes startlingly beautiful.

It doesn't have any pretenses about being great and achieves in the most basic way possible: by being impeccably organized, well-sung, and well-written, with not an ounce of filler in sight.

It’s a slightly uneven collection with some weaker tracks, but nevertheless its creators remain artists whose ability to construct slinky, agile grooves with a dark underbelly is still well worth seeking out.

X is their 10th album, and although some of the youthful bombast contained in the likes of Richter Scale Madness or Perfectly Natural might have been toned down somewhat, the band has managed to retain the essence of what made them such an exciting proposition back at the end of the 1990s.

Tell Me How You Really Feel is a wonderfully curated record, which manages to be both cynical and whimsical at the same time. The depth of musical ambition and of poetic expression deserve a suitably large audience’s attention.

It’s immensely, moreishly listenable. Gillespie and Beth work well as narrators and protagonists. She spritely and unbowed; he simultaneously vengeful and regretful.

It’s an intriguing mixture of pure punk, post punk, and first-wave emo--think Fugazi or Rites Of Spring--though the moments of deliberate discordance are as frequent as the buried melodic gems.

If there is a critique to be made it is that the bass is sometimes a bit muddy, as the production can contain bass notes that clash with the lower notes of Lattimore’s harp. This is not an overwhelming flaw, however, as the mix is on the whole clear and pristine, and as the final piano and harp notes fade out at the end of On The Day You Saw The Dead Whale the lasting effect is one of calm contentment.

Americana is consistently melodic and witty, even if its mellowness sometimes verges on the sedate so that you fancy a burst of garage-guitar power chords from “baby brother” Dave to fire things up a bit. It’s an impressive comeback.

Thankfully though, less worthy moments are heavily outnumbered by their more interesting peers and, for a first full collection, Bedroom is a resounding success. bdrmm have chosen a well-worn path, but there’s a freshness here nevertheless.

If you've never even considered owning a Tom Jones record before, give Praise & Blame a try. It may well surprise you.

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.

Even Spoon's nice sounding (albeit always obtuse) lyrics can't make up for the generally flat music here, and with Transference, Spoon's undeniable swagger has taken a considerable hit.

The album sags in a way that his previous work never did (much like Michael Jackson’s Dangerous, which inspires its artwork). He remains an inventive and interesting producer, however, and there are significant patches of brilliance on Flamagra that make it a worthwhile listen.

It's the musical equivalent of the death of Bambi's mother: exquisitely rendered, but, once experienced for the first time, you need to steel yourself for subsequent visits.

Thundercat has, by skirting around the edges of darkness, created a moody, magnificent, endlessly replayable record that also makes sense in late February.

It's a challenging but ultimately very rewarding listening experience.

The occasional deployment of distortion maybe hints at a lingering anger or resentment, whilst the presence of detached, ghostly human voices shows Willner is a master controller of his music’s constituent elements.

The Golden Age is a bewitching and thoroughly addictive record that proves that even when they push themselves out of their comfort zone, American Music Club can still come up with a classic.

My Finest Work Yet an album that will immediately appeal to Andrew Bird’s long-term fans, and may well attract a few new ones as well.

Those looking to capture a mood, to dive in to something soothing for just over half an hour, would be well advised to kick back and let the music wash over them

Chants For Socialists is full of beautifully written and well-crafted tunes.

The addition of electronic elements to her sound here suggests Godmother to almost be like a set of vintage photographs that have been digitally restored. It might not be enough to move her out of the musical shadows (a place she may well feel content to stay) but it shows her capable of pursuing idiosyncratic alternative paths while consolidating her position as a distinctive, singular artist.