The result is original, surreal and hypnotic--a brilliant debut.

You can’t help but hear Burton’s confidence growing across the album’s running time, his potential still untapped and with room to grow. In this latest soul revival, there’s no denying that Black Pumas are at the forefront and on the prowl for more.

It makes for a more organically toned collection that proves the grey wizard doesn’t need heavy distortion to stay at the top of his game.

Equally, those who delighted in unravelling ["Phylactery Factory"]knotty, brilliant album will emerge dazed and blinking into the wide spaces and sweet melodies of Kairos.

'Reveal' is the slippers, fire and photo album - but this doesn't mean REM have resigned themselves to the placid lethargy of age. It just means that they've found a place to sit back and take stock after a long, colourful journey.

Shellac's Bob Weston throws disorientating tape-loop curveballs throughout, further disturbing Burma's thrilling clatter, which shames bands half their age.

As its title suggests, the album is one for the long haul rather than instant gratification.

While there are bands who share common ground with Outfit--These New Puritans, Hot Chip, Junior Boys--the appealing niche they’re easing into bodes very well for album three.

Lyrically, this is the best Rose has ever been. Poignant, affecting and candid, at times it’s spectacular. Yet the music fails to reach the same heights, resulting in a mismatched record.

Positive but with some very real weight behind it, the album’s closing track sees the self-proclaimed God of Partying emerge with a renewed desire to show the whole world a good time.

They’ve delivered a true modern-day classic of the synth-pop genre.

‘ii’ draws heavily on reggaetón, before warping its rhythms with menacing washes of synthesiser, and wonky vocal manipulation.

The suggestion the pair have somehow increased the emotional palette of their repertoire is a red-herring, but this is still a tremendous success.

Like a vintage Bordeaux, it slips down a treat (aside from lamentable ‘Peanuts’, which gets stuck in the throat), but the moments of oddness whetted our palette for more.

The Killers have made another dazzling statement of ultra-modern pomp, and one arguably even more in step with new generations of alt-rock. It’s a musical DeLorean: rooted in mainstream Americana but speeding into adventurous horizons.

A+E is Coxon's most thrilling and noisy album since 2000's The Golden D.

This fifth set (their second since breaking out) pushes the city limits of their fantasy world even wider and masks an uncomfortable truth.

Being doomed seldom sounded so beautiful.

Suggests even more urgently that that landmark album that's so patently within their grasp is tantalisingly close. This, however, is not it. Not quite. It is still, nevertheless, a quite dazzling album.

Two Suns is epic in scope and ambition and requires a similarly epic patience to unravel its charms.

Hurry Up, We're Dreaming is itself the Little Prince: guileless and dreamy. Quite a bold statement to make, but this is an album of equal valour.

Here, on her most consistent work to date, she’s still dramatic, seductive and theatrical, but fully cut loose. This is Khan’s own heroic moment.

The ambition on show throughout ‘Household Name’ is to be lauded in itself, and Momma deserve to be viewed like the rockstars they sing of.

This is delicate dreampop rendered without the usual disorienting layers.

This is an album of long, mysterious love songs to get lost in for days--seek it out.

It’s been a long wait, but Wye Oak are beginning to blossom.

He dissects his 20-something malaise with a dry and eloquent wit like a K-Mart Morrissey. [6 May 2006, p.33]

Unlike their debut's thrilling-but-ramshackle garage rock, this time round the words are harnessed to the kind of big, bold tunes that will lodge the five-piece in the mainstream consciousness.