It showcases Bradley’s strongest talents, and is just as good as any of the records he released when he was alive.

Some might wish for more of the pounding drums and hellish vocals of old, others might hope for more of the experimental blasted patchwork of The Beggar Lover (Three), but the album succeeds best through its unwieldy, unmanageable length. They say Swans can break a man’s spirit with just two hours of unstinting grimness.

There was always a risk that Heart Tax may feel a bit stitched together. Fortunately, the opposite is the case – this is an album to dive into and luxuriate in.

Kubrick is an ambitious project, but one that works just perfectly as a showcase for the wonderful songwriting and compositional skills of Machin and Glover. It proves, as if it were ever in doubt, that their strength lies not in the skills of their collaborators, but in their music and ideas.

It’s as good an introduction as any to Sleaford Mods’ peculiar charms.

It [Die Like A Rich Boy] is a poignant conclusion to what often feels like a cathartic record; one that will take you on a wonderful rollercoaster of emotional highs and lows.

It may not have the single-minded focus of All Of Us Flames, or the striking ambition of Transangelic Exodus, but it’s another startling record from one of the most exciting songwriters around right now.

It is to Dry The River's credit, however, that they have in Shallow Bed created an album that both plays to their strengths and showcases a diversity of modes, each sculpted authentically. An outstanding effort.

For an album that started out from just a very simple phrase, it is remarkable just how complete it is.

You and I may die, but we can all rest easy in the knowledge that not only shall hardcore never die, but neither shall Mogwai. Long live the kings of post-rock noise.

If you are approaching Souleyman’s music from the Modeselektor direction then this is a great place to start. If you’ve followed his career for years you may feel the electronic dressing smooths off a few of the appealingly rougher edges of his and Sa’id’s sound--but if anything they show just how far ahead he remains stylistically.

This is a characteristically strong, uncharacteristically sloppy (in a good way!), album by one of the few remaining shining lights of rock music. Greatness is almost a given at this stage.

Another reassuringly exceptional album.

This is easily the most satisfying and rewarding set of songs that Cox has written in any of his projects and it'll be a tough ask to top it.

A great comeback from an artist who's been away for far too long.

Boys Inside is Mason's best work since his Beta Band days - a rich, dark slice of mournful, glacial electronica with a heart. Richard X has smoothed away the edges, yet lets Mason stamp his personality on proceedings.

Lust Lust Lust is a record that explains why sometimes guitars need to be turned up to their max and faced into amps, and why humans need to get down and dirty.

Attack On Memory is a short, sharp shock to breathe life into the currently rather lifeless genre of indie-rock.

Now Only occasionally treads a fine line between soul bearing catharsis and a vividness so acute it feels disconcertingly intrusive.

At times, you do miss Romy providing the balance to Sim’s vocals, but this is, in its own way, as successful an xx side-project as the In Colour album has been. As an antidote to the long wait until the next album by the full band, this is a must listen.

Big production bombast in the latter half of the record--especially on 'Africa,' the English-language 'I Follow You' and the title track--could happily be skipped over, but there's at least half a record here that's as indispensible as it is likeable.

Temple Beautiful is a wonderfully eloquent depiction of, and dedication to, the wildness of his adopted city, a bittersweet ode to the feral nature of urban living amongst the greats and the not-so-greats, the wannabes and the has-beens.

A short, sweet ride, and one worth taking again and again.

It is most satisfying, then, to report a welcome return to form for Rival Consoles, delivering a strong album that only gets better as repeated plays unlock its twists, turns and multi-level vistas.

There is no radical change from their first four albums, but anyone familiar with MGMT knows that means plenty of musical exploration, a refreshing flick of the fingers up to the norm. There are many lyrical gems, too, VanWyngarden and Goldwasser maintaining their happy knack of writing songs that connect, songs that their listeners will want to hear on repeat.

Realism showcases how effective it can be when it is allied to a dry sense of humour, a flair for melody and an ability to engage with more than a narcissistic world view.

Quirky, idiosyncratic and unafraid to go against the grain, The Magic Gang have forged their own merry path to find success. Wide-eyed, ebullient and self assured, Death Of The Party is a welcome late summer ray of light.

The yearning title track brings to a close an album that is quite probably Harcourt’s best since Here Be Monsters.