An album that showcases the development of an artist who seems to get better and better as the years roll by.

It’s an altogether bolder and more varied effort than This Is PiL--making this probably the best set to bear the band’s name since 1985’s Album.

It’s difficult to find much at all wrong with Hooton Tennis Club’s first long player. In fact, it’s ace.

It’s funny, thoughtful and catchy as hell.

There is clearly potential there and The Making Of is a solid first record, but it is just one that is unlikely to live long in the memory.

Minor nitpicking aside, this is a Beach House record that sounds, above all else, like a Beach House record, and we should be glad that this house was left standing and not swept away with the dreampop tide.

Rateliff has managed to succeed in breathing life into the classic soul sound by opening himself up and remembering that it is possible to dance your blues away.

Certainly, though, Deradoorian has demonstrated here that she is a confident, mature and distinctive artist.

I Cry When I Laugh never really manages to become more than just a collection of singles.

Even when the pace becomes more middling and unified towards the end of the album, there’s still a sense of a band taking risks and exploring sound.

Poison Season is another excellent Destroyer album, packed with songs that are graceful, beautiful and, yes, hummable.

Even if their musical influences are still heavily apparent, at least Little Victories shows the band writing all their own songs with growing assurance.

The only trouble is that the good tracks are matched by the nondescript filler.

With only the intriguingly named Snake Oil providing somewhat of an average, doomy, Kasabian type entry in an otherwise exemplary set of songs, Foals have produced yet another outstanding must-have album.

Le Bon and Presley are certainly a potent cocktail and this is one of the most uncommonly satisfying releases of the year so far, whose charms reveal themselves best after a few plays.

Spector readily admit they haven’t created a classic with Moth Boys, and are only aiming to create a ‘good’ album. And that’s exactly what they’ve achieved; it’s a step up from Enjoy It While It Lasts but it hints at so much more to come.

Despite the heavy topics, Gwenno brings a lightness of touch to everything on the album--her vocals are both light and breezy, and sometimes sound full of wonder, as if she can’t wait to explore this weird dysoptian future that she’s singing about.

Pretty, but ultimately uneven record.

The album is far from a lost cause. Sometimes, Two Lucky Magpies, Over And Out and the Bibio-esque titular instrumental are all lovely. But The Boombox Ballads annoys almost as much as it entertains.

It’s all rather wonderful nonsense--playful, engaging and not always entirely successful.

It’s a rich, rewarding record, which should see Laura Burhenn and The Mynabirds progress to the next level of established American songwriters.

Strangely mesmerising and addictive, this album will have you in its hold if given the chance.

With new release Stuff Like That There, Yo La Tengo are celebrating the silver jubilee of 1990’s Fakebook by once again demonstrating their flair for interpreting the works of others, as well as reinventing their own back catalogue.

While not offensive, it’s watery childlike-ness is like a kid’s paddling pool--no deep end and replete with a drop or two of unwanted warm yellow liquid.

It’s a pastel water coloured effort that’s like The Byrds with less shimmering jangle, The Beatles with less melodious catchiness, The Velvet Underground with less fuzz and Lou Reed drawl: but it works.

Despite the unsettling nature of Abyss as a whole, it’s a work that is strangely comforting once its charms are fully submitted to.

Born In The Echoes does not reveal anything startlingly new about The Chemical Brothers, but it is more than them simply ticking over, and clearly they have an eye on the future.

Marks To Prove It remains oddly unsatisfying.