It seems Pala is Friendly Fires' successful attempt to translate their positivity-injected carnival live performances into a record. In the process, it just so happens they've delivered what deserves to be the soundtrack to the summer.

Let's Wrestle have certainly crafted the sophomore album we all expected from them. There's little, beyond even that Albini attachment, that strives beyond the aspirations of a general set of rickety punk tunes--but at the same time, everything here is working wonderfully as intended.

All but a handful of the tracks on Disc-Overy are quite ruined by this appalling Black Eyed Peas gloss.

Too many of these tracks sound like empty afterthoughts, or half-baked studio incarnations, needing more embellishment or maybe just a general reimagining.

The album's overriding impression is that it is an album cut from the same cloth as The Strokes' This Is It - bright, clean melodies with just a touch of gain, song structures you're hard pressed to forget - and an effort that marks Darwin Deez as one of the foremost exhibitors of compelling lo-fi.

More dancefloor domination beckons for the Danish trio--and these tracks should once again work a treat live. Let's just hope they don't leave it too long.

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.

Past Life Martyred Saints is an album that leaves a mark.

Earth Grid does what it does and maybe that is the sole objective, an obtuse experiment in the metrics of engagement. Some will undoubtedly put this on headphones, stare into the middle distance and find a place that only Osborne can open for them. Many will ignore it.

This is some of the most welcoming music Gang Gang Dance have ever pieced together – less diffuse but still rewardingly complex, without any of the clutter that could occasionally overwhelm less patient parties.

While it stands apart, this is an evolution that will please both Wild Beasts' early adopters and the many converts that will surely follow from what is, without doubt, one of the stand out releases of the year.

It's their best and most accessible work to date, while somehow not sacrificing any artistic credence.

Much more petulant and moodier than previous albums, I Am Very Far swirls around in an illusory motion in which all manner of sounds and textures spin and whirl around the ubiquitous figure of Will Sheff; unwavering and untouchable, residing within the heart of the album's hidden emotions.

That is a mere side note, however, for Interplay is a consistently strong piece of work, as good as anything Foxx ever wrote when striking out on his own in the early 1980s.

In the end the record greatly exceeds its perceived strengths, building and out-doing itself over its 40 minutes.

The rest of the 13 track album sounds like a mix of Latvian Eurovision Song Contest entries and The X-Factor winners' songs; an unmistakable, cringey 'life affirming' theme runs throughout, with the obligatory twinkling electro loops.

The duo neither pretends to revisit its successful past nor claims a faux renaissance, instead opting for an honest, if solid, collection of songs.

What elevates this album beyond the simply cerebral is the simultaneous pop sensibility that pervades through it.

It won't be a surprise with such an approach that The Body of Christ... has its weaker moments, but it almost seems to miss the point to care. Fight Like Apes delight in their own cackhanded methods, and the odd sloppy sample or laughable lyric are merely grist to their deliberately anarchic mill.

There's more than just a niggle that Free isn't breaking new ground. More disturbingly, the album is a wasted chance to build on Vivarium, and isn't as good as so much of the music it tries to emulate.

It's not spectacular but it is a reliable and solid effort. Whether this is a pivotal moment for the genre remains to be seen.

It's neither an easy nor a joyful listen, but tolerate the unrelenting gloom and it is never less than absorbing.

What we're left with is a sincere, patiently crafted musical statement that is high on atmosphere but rather hard work.

In a decade dominated by rappers who obsess about their cars, clothes and women, it's nice to be reminded that MCA, Mike D and Ad-Rock are still out there, keeping it fun despite all the haters.

Helplessness Blues sees the band finally reach the top of Barringer Hill and set off in majestic flight over the sunshine blessed countryside.

This could be interpreted as a murky world of drug paranoia, or it could be a response to possible political disinformation and spin. Either way, it has made for one of UK bass music's most intelligent and consistent full length works.

Festival Bell is by no means perfect. It can, at times, become somewhat samey, and, at just over an hour long, could definitely do with a trim. But none of that's really important; because the music stored within Festival Bell's grooves is living proof that the venerable Cult of Fairport.

It comes armed with a pocketful of melodies and great musicianship. But yet somehow it doesn't convince. It's hamstrung in part by its length.