The album is a thrill from start to finish and is perhaps surprisingly accessible, particularly if you are aware of their previous work.

So It Goes leaves a refreshing aftertaste on the musical palette and feeds the masses a full course of east coast education.

The sheer solidity of The Body's sound seems to erase all thoughts of humanity and in the end all we are left with are the machines and the monuments, forgotten relics that in time will be destroyed as well.

Tremors is a flawed debut, ironic given the lyrical content, but it's one that, when properly explored, does have some brilliant moments.

It may be a bit malnourished in thematic ingenuity--it's not as honest as Old or Oxymoron, or as celebratory as Acid Rap--but the allure comes from ingenious, inventive production

At just 40 minutes in length it's concise to say the least, but the result is a hearty meal that will subtly introduce you to a new flavour every time you return.

Take Chet's out of context and they might feel as if there were no common theme, but place them side-by-side and you'll find the tracks forming a complete and comprehensive whole--a release that is dynamic, mature, and impressive in all areas.

It's a gorgeously facetious record that succinctly sums up a breadth of adolescent issues; this is the kind of record you'd play when you 'rents were out, or when you've just been dumped, or when your younger sibling got you into trouble and you're sulking.

The term 'masterpiece' is thrown around a lot.

Overall Enter the Slasher House is perhaps too subtle to sit amongst the likes of the Cramps, Goblin and Zombie Zombie playing John Carpenter, on your future Halloween playlist.

At its best White Hinterland can certainly hold its ground alongside these artists, but it's a much tougher and more crowded scene than where she came from.

The highlight of Best of Times is its epics; the ambition of their social commentary is matched by their compositional complexity.

Arc Iris is a breezy, clever and flirtatious debut solo album which immediately puts Jocie Adams's former output firmly behind her, and should find her a devoted and expectant audience.

Hot Dreams isn't perfect, then, but it is different--and genuine experimentation always demands attention.

Carey is making music that concerns itself with nuance, and yet he has made the audio equivalent of cutting a victoria sponge cake with a chainsaw, doing his best to serve it up to a nervous gathering of increasingly swearing nuns.

Production wise, it's got the whole package, but behind all the endearing words pouring out of Milo's mouth, there's a lack of emotional connection.

Whilst it's certainly performed with skill and respect for the golden era of soul music, there's a sense that it's a bit too tightly controlled.

As a careening, breakneck listen, this will be up there as one of the best of the year.

If you welcome the need for a slab of simple hedonistic pleasure, then you might find yourself some treasures here. Switch off and put yourself on party-autopilot.

The infusion of genre's and styles certainly makes the record feel like a score that would be used in an Olympic opening or indeed closing ceremony.

With five tracks over the course of 32 minutes, it never outstays its welcome, though if you listen to it at the wrong end of the day, the overall effect may become soporific.

Although on the surface this sophomore record is a less vulnerable effort than his acclaimed debut, if the listener scratches even a little below the up-tempo melodies they will discover the same shambolic protagonist, struggling with the strife of everyday life which they fell in love.

Piano Ombre proves that by being romantic, intimate and even forward-looking in the way the album positively addresses difficult times.

Evidently, the Worth EP was quite literally worth the wait.

In Each And Every One exemplifies the idea of music as an experience. Whilst it might not pull the tropes of a soundtrack album, it does have a cinematic quality.

Unfortunately after [the first two tracks] the album settles into a post-coital snooze that it doesn't really wake from.

The hummable, sing-in-the-shower refrains are there, but ultimately, its Wildewoman's lack of identity that limits its appeal.

La Luz (which means "the light" in Spanish) have done an excellent job reprising the nostalgic vibes of West Coast beaches by mixing them with more urban influences, and therefore achieving a steady, cohesive album.

Future Islands have crafted the best ten of their career.

Two is Owls taking on their unfinished business; the sound of a band whose dynamic can stand the test of time and still sound as fresh as ever.

Uniquely with Mess, they've instead dealt with the most colossal environment, making a grander statement about the aphotic bleakness of society in the process

This is a really hard album to try and get in to, but when it does all click, it feels good. Sometimes it's just hard to tell whether the effort you're putting in is being rewarded or not.

Throughout Mirrors the Sky, Lyla Foy's warm and comforting voice remains the focus.

As a fully formed whole it's lacking; as nucleus around which a future proliferates and ideas expand, it's seriously exciting.

Although its most inviting moments come tucked away in the calmer less darker IDM influenced tracks. Similar to laughter, this music doesn't necessarily have to mean anything in order to give us deep pleasure.

When Piñata's 61 minutes is up it instantly feels like you've heard it 61 times. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's more of a realisation that you knew what was coming and you enjoyed it

Awake is a very environmental album, but not a particularly emotional one.

A strong component of the record is the varying light and shade between tracks, with head-bangers like 'Heavy Bells' sitting alongside reflection and soul.

Apart from a few slip-ups earlier on, this is, for the most part, a wonderful listen.

It is sad that there isn't more music being made with this level of political engagement at its heart, but it is encouraging that Spectre exists.

By the end, Lost In The Dream is similarly as sprawling and textured as its predecessor, harnessing the affirming, heartfelt sentiments without becoming corny or meek (mostly).

The saturated levels of Scandinavian pop and the mounting pressure on such artists' first albums all could've worked against Karen Ørsted here, but No Mythologies To Follow remains dynamic and expressive enough to work past these blocks and hint at very, very bright things.

An uplifting and varied listening experience, if only some of the other tracks didn't have a habit of passing you by.

Each of the ten (plus one bonus) tracks has earned their place here and sits on the tracklisting proudly as such, leaving none of the excess that sometimes plagued their earlier releases.

If The English Riviera was a lovingly weaved ode to a vibrant utopia, Love Letters, its predecessor and Metronomy's fourth full-length offering, is a return to the same shores, but under much darker skies.

There's an occasional human misstep reminding us that these aren't robots churning pristine pop, and that they can concoct foibles, but there's no reason we can't just sweep those issues under the rug. It's easy to overlook any small faults, as the rest of the record is so damn glorious.

It may not be as bold or as striking as TRST, but as a solid sophomore release, the band has definitely gained our trust.

Electric Balloon may be a gamble in more ways than one for the NYC nostalgic collective, but it's one that reaps far more than it sows.

Like Janet Jackson's Control and Madonna's Ray of Light before it, here is a record that should act as a shining light of how pop music should be done.

It's unabashed, unrepentant, contemplative when it needs to be, volcanically in-your-face the rest of the time.

It's certainly an album that takes a little work to crack, and that work centres around Asbury's unique vocal performances.

Ghosts Of Then And Now is a rich and dynamic listen, threaded with a strong sense of purpose that's wonderfully engaging.

I can't work out what the bloody hell he's on about half the time but there's some kind of of authenticity dripping from every verbal bark and echoey guitar jangle, every driving bassline and intelligent whack of the drums.

It's a pity they remain slavishly committed to a successful template and too often Atlas feels like a memory of a memory.

Its consolidation of antiquated and contemporary music is generally inventive, occasionally poignant and always entertaining.

Inspirational work, yet again.

Make no mistake, Oxymoron is rather brilliant, and provides a perfect foundation to build upon in later releases. An exciting release from an exciting artist.

BBF's effort may not be anything ground breaking, but if you're looking for a solid mix to vibe out to, this could be just the ticket.

From the haunting '422', with its echoing chimes, to the dark electro-pop of 'Out of the Black' which features a great guest vocal from Robyn, there are too many stand out moments to take in in just one listen.

There are some tracks here which are absolutely the best in their class, but it's just a shame that as a whole the collection is weighed down by moments that don't shine as bright as others.

It encourages you to empathise with the subjects of the songs, and therefore adds some light to the melancholy. It scores highly because it weaves all these scenarios and tales over subtle yet richly varied music. For Mark Kozelek this is yet another career highlight.

On their past albums Wild Beasts have shown us their savage and raw sides, which have been gloriously charming and exciting, but by opening up on Present Tense and revealing their true hearts, their music has ascended to new heights.

Every element of Close to the Glass feels like it has been minutely polished; like the workings of a miniature pocket watch, it all feels succinct, gleaming and fresh.

All Love's Legal is the kind of record that reaffirms your faith in the power of music.

It is shocking, it's exciting and it doesn't attempt to give any easy answers or clues as to its real intentions.

It's clever, sure, but it's high-grade, pedal-hopping rock music by the same token.

It's an album that, despite its placement more as high art, isn't afraid to embrace pop music for everything it's worth, managing to be accessible while also challenging, drawing the listener in with familiarity to then unleash upon them this cryptic, paradoxical world that just begs to be explored over and over again.

Their labour of love, You, shows dedication, unencumbered enthusiasm and an eye for detail that perhaps under scrutiny of millions would not exist. Put simply: it's pretty bloody good.

Morning Phase is a terrific mood piece and a worthy follow-up, even if in spirit only, to Sea Change; it lacks the gripping unease of that album, but replaces it capably with genuine warmth and a sunnier outlook.

Sprout's contributions as are every bit as lo-fi as Pollard's, but they're softer around the edges, lending Jumpsuit a nicely balanced feel.

Burn Your Fire, through increased complexity of instrumentation, creates a new dynamic--the vocal is more understated and reserved, less elusive and divergent --it's autonomy partially tethered by the whole ensembles balanced interrelation.

At times it seems to be too much under the influence of My Bloody Valentine--even the cover art evokes them--and their contemporaries, yet it does what it does very well and it would be harsh to overlook the fact that this is a strong debut in its own right.

To combine filmic orchestral scores with the punch of hip-hop, the fun of indie-dance, flavours of funk, nocturnal London sounds, glistening electronica, with such natural fluidity makes War Room Stories a genuine pleasure to listen through; and makes it not just an interesting but an important step forward in highlighting the versatility of "the band", as well as in prolonging its perceived shelf-life.

While some may still find Fanfarlo's sound too inoffensive to get its hooks in under their skin, Let's Go Extinct is an undeniably ambitious, energetic and bombastic effort.

Despite a couple of assorted shortcomings, Crosses is a solid album. Moreno, Lopez and Doom draw from a vast palette of tones to create some legitimately interesting tunes.

As usual with Cooly, the sound selection is on point, as an 808 cowbell is included in the arrangement.

Across eighteen tracks, no matter how long they might be, quality control is bound to be something of an issue so alongside the cracking motorik electro instrumental of 'Overtime' we do get the morose 'Women Lost In Thought' or the noise-mess of 'Missing Time' but these are small detours from what's a pretty engaging record.

As jagged and dark as Dead might appear, there's a real celebratory feel to this album and that's down to some fantastic influences.

July is infectious. It translates well to many ears.

There's nothing bold or groundbreaking about Let's Wrestle but it plays to its strengths. It's almost what you expect it to be, but not quite.

A brilliant debut for Temples.

It's an assured album that utilises everything Katy B has going for her, from her love of clubbing to her BRIT School trained voice which is both bewitching and relatable.

It's not the best music of its kind available, no. But for Maxïmo Park fans, this will succeed in becoming a vital notch in their canon, and for non-fans, it at least worth a spin or two.

Repeated listening will take you down new paths, unlocking Easter eggs along the way; immersive, entrancing and absolutely non-linear.

Similar to the likes of Animal Collective, it weeds out the ordinary pop listener to reward the fan devoted to deciphering its layers.

Compared to their debut album, Dunes marks a step up in the band's sound.

It will take a patient, contemplative listener to fully appreciate the picture that emerges.

David Crosby simply continues down a path he established for himself a long time ago, and even if he has encountered a few bumps along the way, this is a record of a man who has done everything he wanted to do with his life, and Croz emerges as the final piece of the puzzle.

Their sound feels a little dated, especially when you consider the amount of bands who just a few years ago were producing very similar material. Yet, they show promise and in their final song 'Call Me' show a more introspective side with Vangelis style synthesisers over reverberated guitars.

It must be frustrating for Steadman and his fellow Bicycle Clubbers to be unable to shake off the mainstream's lager-stained memories of their debut, but you get the sense that So Long, See You Tomorrow is an appreciative, if somewhat firm, farewell aimed in their direction.

Not outstaying its welcome (a common problem for samplers that peddle transcendent music which can occasionally feel like it is treading water), there is a good diversity of experiments, albeit largely backed by familiar themes.

Each of the nine tracks holds its own.

The record's very nice, but swimming alongside adequacy rather than soaring for the top isn't a wonderful career move.

Recorded without the aid of computers, its songs evoke great monsters of the '70s in its heavier moments, and '90s stoner rock in its mellower, more melodic moments. Innocence is an album that manages to balance these two styles incredibly well.

All these tracks, whilst lovely in themselves, are made ten times better when tethered together.

Each record provides exactly what you want (and a little bit more) and this should be applauded. Whether you're a seasoned fan or only just discovering the band for the first time Rave Tapes deserves a spot in your collection.

This is an album that is adaptable for any mood or setting, so long as the listeners go with the flow and let the music take control.

To be fair to him, Morgan Delt is very, very proficient, nailing the '67 sound while injecting a dose of discipline that many imitators miss.