Overall, New Build's debut is one of subtlety and finesse.

Odd Blood peaks in the middle, with two marvelous extended tracks which take the raw materials of '80s soul and funk and somehow manage to inject the mesmeric, insistent rhythms of Krautrock without making a terrible mess of things.

Alexander Tucker muscles up to his psych-folk antecedents to posit himself as an artist of singular merit, as comfortable within the realms of conventional song as well as the abstract sound world.

This might not be it [a landmark record], but by god does it sound like it wants to be at points towards the end. Night Life is very, very good.

The fact that it’s not doing anything particularly new doesn’t really matter because it’s hitting all the right notes and pushing all the right buttons. Most of all, just like their debut, it’s a lot fun.

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.

Filled with the classic Molko goth-nihilism it’s twinged with as much Nirvana as it is Depeche Mode. Familiar yet fresh, a grower indeed, catchier with each listen.

Cutting a path somewhere between the sonic worlds of New Order and !!! (Chk Chk Chk), Omnion runs determinedly in Butler’s own unique direction, mixing decadence and daring and making for something rather special.

Much of Edge Of The Sun is as comfortable as an old pair of slippers.

Sure there are obvious bands they can be liked to--The Band, Sam Cooke, Otis Redding--but its pace and passion make it a record to enjoy for itself, rather than its influences.

It's tempting to deride the album as too similar at times, but the truth is that each of these songs is a perfectly sculpted and realised work of wonder revolving around a couple of central themes, which appears to be based primarily in the sounds of the Orient and the South American rainforest.

So a collection like this is a timely reminder of what they've achieved; from the cold, hard sounds of 604 to the futuristic disco of Witching Hour, Best of 00-10 is a comprehensive over view of endlessly interesting band.

Fanfare is the sort of album Jonathan Wilson was bound to make, immaculately crafted and perfectly defined.

Even though there are moments that skirt close to self-indulgence--there’s an entire song dedicated to celebrated author Judy Blume which still somehow works, while Bigger On The Inside stops being a heartfelt defence after a while and just turns into a bit of a whine--and you’re left with the impression that a sympathetic editor would do wonders for Palmer, there are still some heart-stopping moments of beauty on this third album.

Beatopia is an album which shows Beabadoobee still experimenting to find her voice – that doesn’t make it a bad album, rather a slightly uneven one. There are enough moments, such as the gently soaring See You Soon, which hint that she’s due to break out of her cult status and become a major star sooner rather than later.

There are some bumps along the way, though, with Art Deco and Religion sounding almost too lackadaisical for their own good.... That said, when she gets the formula right, the results speak for themselves.

This is a band working at the very top of their game, and this album is a beautiful, brilliant beast.

Beautiful, sad, uplifting, and thoughtful, American Football’s return is definitely something to get excited about, but in a subdued way.

Night Music is the sort of album that demands an active listener, that brings all those lurkers in the lobby of the mind into full view.

Like [Beck's] Morning Phase, even Supernova’s failures prove an interesting listen, and when LaMontagne hits his stride, it’s an album that contains some of his best material in years.

I Can Feel You Creep Into My Private Life doesn’t quite hit the immense heights of her first two albums, but this is still Merrill Garbus doing her own thing--which is something that’s always worth paying attention to.

The consistency and linear aspect of Bloom ensures it is, as the band recommend, best experienced as an whole.

While it lacks the initial rush of Hunting My Dress, The House That Jack Built throws in surprises and twists and turns that are evidence of a satisfying progression.

It all amounts to Hersh’s harshest offering in sometime, but it’s also the sound of an artist rejuvenated and inspired.

It may be nearly 35 years since The Charlatans signed to Beggars Banquet, but for sheer scope and invention, Tim Burgess knows no bounds.

While existing fans are catered to generously, the band have brought their sound on in leaps and bounds; an achievement that is testament to Mount's evolving songwriting prowess. They don't come much better than this.

Hold My Baby emphasises King Princess’ position as one of pop’s most singular talents, but doesn’t drive home the point quite in the way you feel it should. Perhaps that makes it an even more interesting listen.

Never judge a book by its cover, they say, but with Cymbals Eat Guitars it's fine to do just that--the lush green grass and dense vegetation of their own artwork accurately reflected in their own music.