It’s unlikely there was any desperate clamour for a new Ratatat album during the duo’s prolonged absence from the scene. Nevertheless, Magnifique is a nice reminder of the band’s command of their tiny, unfashionable corner of the music world.

There’s not much in the way of lax to be found here, Liberez are for the time being, geared towards building tension continuously without ever letting go.

If you are approaching Souleyman’s music from the Modeselektor direction then this is a great place to start. If you’ve followed his career for years you may feel the electronic dressing smooths off a few of the appealingly rougher edges of his and Sa’id’s sound--but if anything they show just how far ahead he remains stylistically.

While the music he creates on Universes is not quite from another planet, there’s definitely a spirit of exploration that makes it a joyous listen throughout.

This is a bruising, effective set, whatever the year may be, and one that really could only have come from one place.

It’s a promising debut from a musician spreading his wings and continuing to create his own little subculture, one informed by the past but brightening up the future.

Yet, despite these slight missteps [Fear Machine and Delusion Pandemic], VII is a fine addition to what is already a solid musical canon.

Something cleansing, refreshing and captivating, much like a dip in the sea. Once again, they’ve managed it here.

For those that are willing to kiss goodbye to the guitars and join Parker on his latest detour, you’re likely to get swept away by the dreaminess of Currents. It’s just a shame that the undeniable majesty of opener Let It Happen sees the album peak at a high it can never hope to reach for the remainder of its existence.

How Does It Feel, then, is a second album that reveals a band with plenty left in the tank.

Working Girl isn’t an album that will stretch boundaries or break new ground--the best tracks are ones that can’t easily be compared to other artists, such as Taste It and Help Too.

A hugely enjoyable, relaxing warm bath of a record that easily surpasses the recent work of both its two main protagonists.

At its best this is a confident début that will doubtless please lovers of hooky, carefully crafted guitar pop.

Best Friends work best when they deal in heads down, pulsating rock.

Wildheart is a beautiful album from one of the most exciting and talented artists in music right now.

Communion’s minimal song titles are indicative of a no-nonsense approach to song writing--but like most good pop songs they unpeel different layers of production with repeated listening.

In such a hugely enjoyable and compelling set, the weaker moments are few and far between.

Sprawling, strange, baffling and beguiling, this psychedelic treasure is unlikely to appeal to the unadventurous, but it’s hard to imagine there will be another album released anywhere this year that’s quite like it.

It makes for a good entry point for anyone who hasn’t heard any Nils Frahm before, and is also an extra treat for any long-term fans desperate for some new material.

Tweedy keeps up an unobtrusive presence throughout, letting Thompson play to his strengths, and it all results in another reliably consistent album.

As debuts go, it’s not on the same level as their mates Wolf Alice, but it is a compelling listen and a worthy addition to any burgeoning music library.

The results may on occasion be fraught with discomfort, and feel like a caffeine overdose, but in that respect Get To Heaven is an accurate reflection of life today, with its overwhelming tags, mentions, likes, unread messages, stimulants and stress relievers.

Don’t Weigh Down The Light certainly rewards repeated listening.

Yuck, however, sadly comes off after several listens as a little flat, the low points seeming all the more so for resting, as they do, in the shadows of the occasional peaks.

It’s as good a debut as you could hope to hear, a fresh injection of pure brilliance and beauty to a genre that is creaking under the weight of mediocrity and a lack of adventurous inventiveness.

[A] rich (at times too rich) ambitious record that hints at gimlet-eyed determination rather than wispy pushover.

PINS give the impression of enjoying themselves while not taking this whole rock ‘n’ roll thing entirely seriously. Just seriously enough to make something really fine.

There might be a song here entitled Failing At Fun Since 1981, but this album is stupidly good fun and, on top of it all, an unmitigated success.