This is such a great, great record for so many reasons.

This is an adrenaline rush of an album, an electric shock in a world of flabby gas. Proof, if any were needed, that it’s possible to reinvent the wheel if you’re committed enough to the spin.

Those who were endeared by Rose’s debut may be surprised, hopefully pleasantly, by the change in tone and attitude shown on The Stand-In. Nevertheless, it is a delightful record.

It's a curious, rather than classic, record - with the hooks to make the leap to the mainstream, but with enough residual oddness to maintain Goldfrapp's air of mystery a while longer.

There could be an argument that a couple of edits to make the track listing shorter would have resulted in an even more effective album. However, this is easily one of the best pop albums of the year as it is: one that’s unlikely to be bettered unless a certain Ms Swift really pulls it out of the bag.

The final few tracks have an appealing sense of character to them, harnessing the potential of organic and programmed elements intertwining. The rest of Eyeroll is so abrasive that it’s hard to love, but fans of experimental electronica could certainly do worse than give it a listen.

Although there’s some filler on Endless Summer Vacation – Wildcard and the rather flat closing piano ballad Wonder Woman fall into this category – it probably ends up as her most consistent album to date. This is one former teen idol who’s negotiating the path to a more adult audience just fine.

It's an overheard confessional, or an electronic diary entry from a very sad masked man, and an artistically impressive and musically satisfying one at that.

This is a brave and hugely ambitious record, projecting far beyond the limits of most bands in their early twenties today.

Petals Have Fallen is one of the most original hip-hop releases of the year thus far, having a solid awareness for what moves the body while retaining the introspective attributes that characterise the best of British urban music.

By the time the vocal ensemble brings Bank On It to a close, it’s clear that Twice As Tall is a novel but worthwhile fusion of disparate artists and styles.

Tunng presents Dead Club may be their darkest album to date but it is arguably their finest too. ... A creative peak even for a band with more than 15 years’ experience together.

It all adds up to another fascinating entry in the ever-evolving Lambchop spectrum, all slow texture, repurposed approaches and augmented familiarity. Showtunes then, but for an alternative world where unhurried immersion and quiet advancement are key.

Aside from several unwanted bumps in the road that fail to impress at all, he has at least managed to produce something that resembles an echo of past glories in a few places.

With The Dream, we see a maturing band dip deep into their emotions, immersing us not only in art and culture but in their dreams, and it is utterly brilliant.

There are songs on N.K. Pop that stand squarely alongside some of Heaton’s best – he may have celebrated his 60th birthday earlier this year, but that famous fire of his shows no sign of being extinguished.

By the time we reach the end, Doyle has nailed his musical remedy for the pace and relentless demand on the senses this digital life can make. Ironically he does so with a pleasing amount of analogue input, the music spring-like in the upward looking way it saunters down the street.

The Monkees have made an album which stands readily among the best of their career and of the year so far.

These are songs that can sashay straight past you if you're not careful, but producer Stuart Matthewman (whose work with Maxwell sounds equally poured over) slips in subtle moments such as the twinkling percussion on Morning Bird and the slow-burn backing on opener The Moon And The Sky.

This is a fine second volume... serving further notice of DFA's production talent.

Crash, while not a perfect record and not entirely free from external pressures, sees the singer in a completely different space, making joyous music that flits between normativity and hall-of-mirrors-style subversion in a manner reminiscent of The Weeknd’s Dawn FM.

Their music loves to have a good time and get a sweat on, but can’t help flashing a thought or two in the direction of life outside the club. Add a healthy sense of humour and you have a tried and tested album right up there with their best work.

Coupling the stark lyrical honesty with the understated beauty of the melodies and instrumentation produces an album that that will stay with you for a very long time indeed.

If this is the type of work Kaytranada can produce with no lyrical contributors, then this reviewer would happily have three more albums in this format.

The two records are essentially similar in their mood and effect, and the snag with this album is that it follows the formula set by its predecessor uncomfortably closely.

At the centre of all of this, always, are Leschper’s remarkable vocals: brittle and quivering at one moment, bold and unfaltering the next, with an occasional folkish twang of Joanna Newsom or Jessica Pratt, her manner of occasionally over-reaching or stopping short of notes well within her range, her voice cracking at the edges, emphasises the fragility at the emotional core of her songs.... A beautiful album.

Ultimately, The Eternal acts as a fitting and timeless aide-memoire of everything this mighty band has ever achieved.

The album’s initial momentum is not quite there by the three quarter distance, but Woman is an album that more than merits time.