She has not made Smile to impress critics, but rather as an emotional catharsis, and in some tracks this catharsis does sparkle. But it would be great if, in her next creative venture, she focused less on just her smile, as wonderful as it is, and more on the complex emotions that make up the main draw of Smile.

Bleak memories are retold here, and at times you really have to stick with Bayley with a sympathetic ear as the album extends to 16 tracks, including childhood interludes. But it’s delivered in an exuberant manner and, despite some very profound lyrics, songs such as singles Heat Waves and Your Love (Déjà Vu) would have had kids dancing at the festivals in the summer sunshine.

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.

While there are certainly all manner of influences on KOMPROMAT, this is an album of considerable depth and intellect that rewards careful investigation, and a well timed return from a band at the top of their game.

Nothing is overstated or overplayed and individual parts are delivered with a care and delicacy which sustains a sense of empathy and warmth. The arrangements are deft and adventurous, but never at the expense of a sense of space and a grounded quality in the music.

The deeper resonance of the piano is boosted further by judiciously deployed synth sounds and the effect is slower and more dreamlike. Quando eu era Pequenina is particularly beautiful, with its expansive piano chords and haunting synth sounds, while Os meus olhos são dois círios, rooted in electronics, is flatter but, thanks to Lina’s vocals, scarcely less beautiful.

The Front Bottoms here have underperformed with what is a tiresome collection of repetitive songs that don’t require much effort to listen to.

Girl Friday are quite clearly on their own path, and all the better for it.

It’s astonishing how much ground gets covered on Good Luck, Seeker. Sure, not every track is likely to resonate with every listener, but that’s all part of the charm: it’s a remarkable achievement that sits near, if not at, the top of the band’s entire catalogue.

If shiny, overstated hooks and operatic melodies are your thing, stick on the Twigs’ latest LP right away and you’ll have a ruddy glorious time. But for many, Songs For The General Public will be an overwhelming, even frustrating listen. The brothers wear their huge list of influences so prominently on their sleeves that it’s hard to put your finger on who they really are – and what they’re trying to say.

By the time the album’s 54 minutes have drawn to a close, you feel exhausted but in the best possible way.

What this three-hour opus does is show Matmos to still be intrepid sonic explorers, pushing the boundaries of musical orthodoxy and consolidating their unique position within the avant-garde.

This is a pleasant diversion for Whitney fans waiting for a follow-up to Forever Turned Around, and if it has the side-effect of directing people to the hitherto undiscovered treats of the likes of The Roches, Jurado and Moondog, then so much the better.

The formula is executed well, while the production and songwriting keep the Australian four-piece ahead of any imitators. ... Yes, new music is good to have and good to experience, but when the tunes become interchangeable that notion starts to feel hollow.

The album may not carry the sort of dance-fused electro-pop magnificence they’ve made before, but moving away from the more ‘expected’ type of pop song you think of when Erasure crops up in conversation seems to have worked wonders.

This is the most professional, mature, clean-sounding hit of saccharine pop the band have ever delivered, and it’s certainly their best album since Day & Age.

It never once drags or feels like a chore to listen to, for she pulls you in and keeps you enthralled for the duration. She does this across the entire album.

Schneider’s assessment of the impact of digital advances, while pessimistic, is not without nuance. ... Schneider is capable of breathtaking beauty as a writer – unafraid of exploring direct melodic communication and stirring arrangements. There is also plenty of subtlety and nuance in her writing, so this communicates honesty and sincerity more than earnestness.

Non-Secure Connection needs – and deserves – several encounters before its treasures can be fully revealed. When they are, a record to stand beside his best achievements in recent years is the result. Hornsby is a fascinating and absorbing character, and the longer his creative surge continues the better.

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.

Negrito creates a musical gallery in which each song is a well-crafted piece of folk art, bringing together fragments of genres to create something from the great unknown, something deeply provocative and enchanting. The answer to whether we’ve lost our minds yet is simple; at the end of this album, yes we have.

This band clearly has a solid vision for their sound, and with a debut this satisfying, you’ll definitely want to see where that vision takes them next – especially if that involves more experimentation.

The powerful Santiago Sunrise closes the album, confirming Even In Exile to be an undoubtedly impressive outing, both in terms of being an engaging, impactful set of songs but also as an educational exercise in shining further light on an important musician and cultural figure.

In short, it’s no puzzle to see that there’s no revolution here, and little is opposite to what you’d expect. It does, however, prove their sky remains far from blackened.

Musically it turns out to be blissful business as usual for Ernest Greene on his fourth album under the Washed Out moniker. The bittersweet sentiments remain but they are beautifully expressed and wrapped up in classy production, with a notable tension that hangs on every song.

Sex, Death & The Infinite Void resembles The Rocky Horror Picture Show if you were to watch it on a rollercoaster in the dark: it’s thrilling, coquettishly idiosyncratic, and filled to the brim with palpable pride at their lack of creative limits. If it’s one thing no critic could ever say Creeper lacks, it’s ambition, and here it really pays off.

It is inevitably an unfinished work. Studio banter is left in and some songs are mercilessly brief or feel like sketches. Nevertheless, its spacious textures, starkness and the emphasis on Molina’s understated but haunting vocal delivery mean that this music provides a window into Molina’s working process and creates a moving intimacy. It is like listening to the voices of ghosts.

At a time when mainstream house music is becoming more connected with both its past and the underground scene, ‘alternative’ interpretations like this are quickly becoming stale, and Articulation too often sounds as if it’s merely going through the motions.