At the moment, her music is best consumed in blog-sized chunks, not as a stodgy 48-minute album.

We say: just give in, it'll be the best vomit of your life. [20 Jan 2007, p.29]

'Algiers', their seventh album, is far less surface-level appealing, but the sad twang of a pedal steel and Joey Burns' rich lyrical imagery draw you in, and depth and craftsmanship is slowly revealed.

Its mix of clanking rhythms, bleeps and whistles is certainly insistent, although it's the vocal tracks that stick.

It's business as usual on the whole.

Like ‘The Girl And The Robot’ from Röyksopp’s 2009 ‘Junior’ album, and it begins with a stunner--‘Monument’, a winding and mystical 10-minute epic containing startlingly self-confident lyrics.

While an ambitious selection of productions have reinvigorated his approach, as the album rolls on, the same solo call-and-response hooks, and methodical, self-effacing verses show that, vocally, he’s content sticking to familiar, functional turf.

In places it’s a bit samey, marred by a shortage of songs. But The New Life is, nonetheless, a must-listen.

Opening track ‘Petrichor’ is certainly a trial, layering ominously ringing notes with clarinet blasts and coming on like the soundtrack to your worst nightmares, while the rest of the five-track record flits between welcoming and uncomfortable.

During the rousing, blissfully noisy one-two of ‘Chicago’ and ‘Upon Sober Reflection’, ‘Fate & Alcohol’ has the juice to make you forget the lights are about to go out, harnessing the energy that once made Japandroids’ reckless, romantic barroom epics so at odds with the real world.

For all that his songs brim with melodic invention, in the end style trumps content.

Albarn pulls you close and whispers the codes of his life into your ear. Switch settings to ‘decipher’.

The tunes, too, are as lush and anthemic as ever.

Beneath the plasticky politeness is the same old wry fatalism that the likes of Smog continue to strive for.

Although not as immediate as his collaborators’ work, his introversion pulls you into his unique soundscape.

Adrian Toubro sings like every word causes him a jolt of pain, but his songs are literate and fine-crafted, reading like distilled existential dramas.

To all intents and purposes McKenna is a teen breakout star, but describing him that way feels reductive after listening to his debut, on which he proves himself a serious lyricist who deserves more than to be put in a box.

While it’ll take more than four songs for any veritable flashlight to irradiate Skullcrusher as the answer, this EP will at least start us asking the question.

By taking what worked about Lungs and amplifying those qualities to a natural, satisfying conclusion, Florence has made a near-great pop record that should afford her the creative freedom to do whatever the hell she wants next time around. She may be away with the faeries, but she knows exactly what she's doing.

Park Hye Jin has crafted an affecting multi-layered debut that, rather than reaching a conclusion of fulfilment, manages to find happiness in just being alive.

This expansion of sound is also put together with the kind of meticulousness that makes Transit Transit doubly compelling.

‘Talkie Walkie’ deserves to do as well as ‘Moon Safari’. There’s no question that it’s a better record, a different record, written by a pair of supremely talented and greatly improved musicians enjoying total mastery of their studio and sound, who aren’t afraid to take risks for fear of offending their audience.

EGOLI is a scattershot and hedonistic diary of the collective’s week-long recording sessions, and each song offers an insight into the vibrant sounds of Johannesburg and the city’s unique twist on house, folk, jazz and beyond. Community and collaboration are a powerful force on this album.

The period-precise score captures the claustrophobic dread and paranoia of the fictional film shoot documented in Berberian Sound Studio.

Though the harder of heart might not be able to swallow the rock’n’retro stylings, Invisible Girl is an ice-cool, analogue-warm winner. Make like its creators and loosen up.

Her pipes can still be transportational, but mostly they deliver nice, docile music to stroke cats to.

Recovering emos Brand New have taken doing things their own way to the point of invisibility, but their journey into the widescreen ether continues with yet another breathtakingly accomplished record.

Cuba is just another tool for Mala, an outlet for his name-making style, which remains instantly recognisable and consistently listenable throughout.