Cameron could be a pop contender, but the masks that make the man are as much barrier as blessing here.

Hints of psychedelia and bursts of frantic riffing flirt with a classic Primus sound over much of The Desaturating Seven.

The title fits: tender, tumultuous and titanic, Wolf Alice sound like a band for life.

Throughout, The Clientele’s mellifluous breeziness accommodates fresh sounds without signs of strain.

Bruised but still brawling, Relatives channels the horror and embattled hope of our times with a vital insistence.

It’s all fairly light, but there’s plenty to savour.

A prime opportunity to taste everything from Haines’ buffet--sweet and savoury alike.

His eponymous seventh LP feels like a massive leap forward, as though an epiphany has allowed him to put all the right pieces in all the right places, and suddenly the picture becomes clear.

Sun Gong comes across like Laraaji’s own personal answer to the Reverend CL Franklin’s rhythmic yet unsettlingly intense sermons.

Songs that are just truly comforting to their core and that make Hallelujah Anyhow another richly rewarding listen.

This doesn’t disappoint. Undoing A Luciferian Towers opens proceedings and wastes no time in transporting the listener into their world.

It’s a pleasure to report that he’s come up with something much more tangible than a mere phoned-in hash of former glories.

Cut Copy need to learn to make music with the reckless abandon of a good night out--at whichever type of club they end up in.

Hiss Spun is easily a contender for her best work.

Part 2’s tracklist does find room for efficient new versions of songs Brix co-wrote for The Fall (LA, Feeling Numb and the enigmatic Hotel Bloedel) but they’re merely the icing on the cake here. Indeed, they’re arguably bettered by newly-minted songs such as the stomping, Big New Prinz-esque Something To Lose; the shape-throwing Damned For Eternity and the psych-pop candy floss of Moonrise Kingdom.

Fans of the last LP will not be disappointed--yes, even with the ones that sound (whisper it) a bit too much like Muse. But there’s so much more here than artful innovation.

Singer and band are in perfect synch throughout, the benefits of a lengthy and approaching telepathic relationship obvious for all to hear.

The swaggering beasts of Wall Of Glass and Bold kick it off and Greedy Soul waves a musical truncheon in your face as producers Greg Kurstin and Dan Grech- Marguerat find the jugular on songs powered by riffs, choruses, hooks and lashings of attitude to keep up with their swaggering frontman.

A unique, wide-eyed feeling of awe and wonder underpins all the lush melodies (see I Am Learning), but with The Kid’s lyrics offering a thoughtful counterpoint to all the loved-up ambience.

The understated closer Admiral Of Upside Down is evidence that somewhere beneath all the sonic experimentation he’s inherited at least a modicum of his famous father’s ear for melody.

Colors suffers for sacrificing personality for immediacy.

Mary Casio is another cohesive collection, glued together by the slightly silly yet still thought-provoking storyline, which regards the life story of an obscure imaginary electronic composer, who is set upon space travel.

Produced by David Foster, it’s largely tremendous fun, even if the path on which it walks is rather well worn.

If you ever liked Spain, Galaxie 500 or Mazzy Star, this is for you. Smoky, reverb-heavy melodies that gently noodle off nowhere slowly, this compilation of released tunes and salvaged demos contains much for the heads.

The album is streaked through with intelligent string orchestrations that don’t feel bolted onto the songs to pad out or prettify them but increase their psychological intensity.

Their fourth album’s trembling vocals address mortality, heartbreak, collapse, resilience, different extremities of weather, running to someone and leaving the city at night. Such earnestness is offset nicely by jaunty synthesizer sounds and admirably expressive drum work. It remains unfortunate that Wolf Parade have never reached the fascinating twitchiness of their heroes Modest Mouse.

Part of Death's triumph is its unadornment, which allows the songs to glimmer as rough diamonds.

Angular but well-rounded; Pere Ubu remain as paradoxical as ever.