Vitality courses through every song on her sixth album.

It's more exciting than most everything made by glitch gurus on their laptops today.

The sum is a subtly powerful lo-fi indie rock record produced by John Congleton, who’s proved capable with other bands (Okkervil River, Modest Mouse) of making the production as emotionally intense as the soul-baring songwriting.

Musically, it's considerably less abstract than his last solo album, 2014's Tomorrow's Modern Boxes. Like the other albums under his name (including last year's Suspiria soundtrack and his pseudo-solo side project Atoms for Peace) it's more electronic than rock, but there's a warmth to it you wouldn't expect.

Oddly, the unconventional sequencing and measured pace of the album make the fragmented mess hold together quite well.

Cohen’s voice is at the centre of all the songs – present and passionate, the unmistakable deep rasp even better matching his searching weariness the older he got. And it’s all here, that never-duplicated mix of sex and death, the sacred and the profane.

Blissful and vibrant, Dark Days is a party album, but one with a soothing, trance-inducing quality. Best listened to loudly and in a communal setting.

It never really achieves the celestial heights of Cosmic Sky, every song after the opener feeling too much like an extended comedown, but From The Ages is an essential record for anyone who likes the sound of guitars sounding like guitars.

A natural progression from the delicately beautiful and strangely funky shoegazer dance pop of his last album, Swim.

The whole thing has a beautiful and unexpected tenderness to it.

Her flow is kaleidoscopic and hearing her turn phrases with Jamaican reggae artist Chronixx on LMPD or trade verses with fellow Londoners Chip and Ghetts on King Of Hearts is an imaginative escape in itself.

Beam has managed to maintain some of the intimate charm of his home recordings by cleverly trading a conventional trap drum kit for hand percussion. It works wonders to make an elaborate production seem smaller and more organic while strengthening the music's rhythmic component.

Across Suddenly, Snaith surrenders to the current. If you do, too, you’ll find a rich and rewarding listening experience.

The record is effusive but unsentimental, pointedly funny (Love Is A Bourgeois Construct) and occasionally subversive (The Last To Die, a Springsteen cover).

Influenced by both the horrors of war and the looming threat of a nearby active volcano, A U R O R A is every bit as terrifying and brutal as those inspirations suggest, but also oddly hypnotic and contemplative.

While the production is tight, it’s not going to cause rival producers to sell their samplers and look for jobs in air conditioning repair.

The achievement here is that each song feels like its own distinct world.

It requires some patience, but it's worth sitting through the less immediately gratifying moments for the final section's payoff.

Maybe their tightest, most replayable album yet.

Twice nominated for Britain’s Mercury Prize, Calvi has consistently delivered brilliant albums. This new era of openness only serves to push her to more relevant and engaging levels.

It’s eclectic, eccentric and yes, essential.

Even when they get quiet and contemplative, there’s a raw urgency that keeps the energy visceral.

Unlike the many psychedelic loop-crazy Panda Bears popping up these days, Twin Shadow skilfully crafts structured songs that stand out and are full of soul and mournfulness.

You could boil Freedom’s Goblin down to “rock,” but the 19 songs offer 19 flavours of the genre--a testament to how many delicious recipes you can still make out of vocals, guitar, bass and drums (and, in this case, a dollop of horns).

The lineup addition of [singer Dawn] McCarthy proves to be a genius move; her vocals blend beautifully with Oldham's, and her soaring solo flights make a great recording exceptional.

Despite the limited instrumentation, arrangements are thoughtful, and the 10 songs build slowly and hypnotically through repetition. Just when a sameness begins to set in, a handful of tunes near the end ... tip us off to the fact that we've glimpsed just a fraction of Mares of Thrace's capabilities.

He has a slightly Bob Dylanesque nasal whine on some songs, but at other times he slips into a soft Harry Nilsson croon, and fills his lyrics with vivid imagery and storytelling.

All of the more modern accents are refreshingly unobtrusive. The minimalist arrangements give each instrument room to breath so the richness of the tones and the relaxed confidence of the playing stand out in sharp relief.