All the pieces are beautifully composed and played, as you would expect from someone whose orchestral arrangements are sought by artists ranging from Gorillaz to Katherine Jenkins, but what Postcards From really needs is an accompanying, immersive Virtual Reality video experience that would allow us to see, and understand, what Brice heard.

Genuinely experimental, A Hermitage is a tremendously exciting release which demonstrates there is still new territory to be explored in heavier music; it need not always rely on tried and tested formulae. Jambinai are proof that it is better to be brave.

It seems to exist almost in spite of itself, careening energetically down paths it desperately wants to avoid. To that extent, Blood//Sugar// Secs//Traffic is a cacophony of contradiction, but one very much worth investigating.

Capsule Sickness boasts a warmer tone, if one that lacks direction, unlike the fuller sound of Crux with its sharply distorted, decidedly un-humanlike “vocals”. Other tracks stalk the no-man’s land between noise music and techno, constantly threatening to stomp on any unexploded landmines just to see how impressive a sound that might make.

It’s infused with enough rhythmical disturbances and difficult time signatures that it ends up straying far from that path. It’s still full of joy and wonder, but there’s an extra element of wilful confusion. While it makes these songs less accessible at first, in the long run, if you stick with it, it actually adds to their clout.

No one ever asked The Monkees to be anything more than pratfalling archetypes who could act and sing a bit, yet they asked more of themselves than they needed to; and they’re digging deep again today.

Oscar is still finding his feet but with promise like this--and the irresistible Sometimes--there will be plenty of room for him when the time comes.

It’s an album to truly cherish.

Holy Ghost [is] their best effort yet.

All the members’ parent groups are associated with dramatic music, but arguably in quite different styles, and the first few numbers are what you’d expect Editors to produce if they got hold of previous collaborator Goswell and placed her inappropriately high in the mix.

Frontman Jake Webb’s lyrics are often as intricate and tangled as his weaving guitar lines.

This mischievous ethos has rarely been better displayed than on this often uneasy listening set from Berlin-based, old-school activist DJs Graef and Astro who, after name-making solo careers, came together last year to form their Money $ex imprint as a platform for their woozy marriages of obscure vinyl sensibility and startling aural foraging.

Their sitar-heavy take on the genre incorporates a variety of outside influences, though it’s a penchant for krautrock which yields the best results on this fourth album.

LUH can write a spirited song, that’s for sure, but if you’re not ready, forget it.

It makes for an uneven, unbalanced experience that, sadly, is better on paper than in practice.

By the spangled keyboards, spectral funk and squalling sax of closing pair Toots and Teeth, Van Dinther has successfully forged his own new personal universe, showing jazz’s original questing spirit still alive, kicking and able to make new sonic waves.

It’s an album that feels reflective but forward-thinking, observing a time and space but interpreting it in a way that all can appreciate.

Crisply produced by Glyn Johns, working with EC for the first time since Slowhand, the record proves a remarkably rewarding listen.

On Teens Of Denial, Car Seat Headrest makes his case for being leader of the pack.

This time, with another dance music stalwart in Fuck Buttons’ Andrew Hung on producing duties, Orton shows no fear in heading into the electronic void, with some of her most eclectic and exciting tracks to date.

The nine sizzling tracks here may fly by, but reveal a true pioneer still firing on his much-abused cylinders.

Piano is a solo work through and through. Simple, yes, but considered, dignified and something of a palate cleanser too, wherein everything seems reset.

Thankfully, despite all this period charm, Air’s music more than holds up today.

A Moon Shaped Pool represents a return to the ambition and perfectionism that has characterised their best work.

An instrumental album that never fails to hold the listeners attention, with a plethora of quotable passages and delightful moments. A coming of age album.

Though there are innumerable influences at work here, it is blessed with an offbeat and singular charm.

It’s all very pretty and pleasant, but whereas Smith Westerns burned with the emotions of their songs, Whitney seem rather more detached from theirs. Which, as easy-going as these 10 songs are, renders them more as temporary, unconvincing background music. It’s nice for a while, but their effects soon give way to the winds of truth and reality.

[The Glowing Man] finds Swans ever so slightly more playful, and on the cusp of a new era.