Pursuit of Momentary Happiness is neither a mere regurgitation of Alas Salvation, nor does it send the band in a completely new direction altogether--instead, it showcases a steady yet unhurried matureness emanating from Oli Burslem's bittersweet Iggy-meets-Lou vocals (he is indeed a talented crooner, and 'Words Fail Me' is one of the most romantic tunes I've heard recently) and the overall tight sonic deliver that ultimately allows for a détente of the listener, who in their turn realises they needn't be afraid to find any uncomfortable gaps.

He has a release that bifurcates between sparkling, let-it-rip takes, over to a self-antagonistic, ball of constructed chaos.

Colours is not a bad record, far from it. It does, however, feel like an experiment that has gone slightly out of control; exhilarating and dazzling at times, worrying at others.

This is a fraught and definite collection of the uttermost importance. For the first time in their career, the end of the album doesn't feel like the extinction of Dodos, but instead an invigoration.

Love Yourself: Tear shows off each individual member’s qualities fairly and acts as a well-structured introduction to a wider global audience that is all too eager to pick out negatives.

It's quite an enjoyable listen. It's all possibly about as boxed and pared down as Richard D James has sounded.

The somewhat dated soundscape presents the album one relative weakness, but truthfully, sticking to her guns serves Allen and No Shame just fine, with the clear spotlight allowed for her vocals.

Both the fact that this effectively represents a collaborative effort and also that there's three different singers across the album's twelve tracks are probably reasons behind the fact that it feels like a pretty diffuse collection of songs; the only real unifying characteristic to Hold It In's songs are their punishing level of loudness.

Too eerie to be a comedown album, too scary to be a soundtrack, Kiri Variations is rich in weaving a tapestry of Wiccan ideals, of woodlands and innocence and dreams of suffocating entrapment, which combine to produce an album of unsettling pleasure.

Certainly some tracks could use grounding and a smidgeon of common substance to prevent a stupefying hypnosis--but in many ways that's the appeal.

Flashy records are always exciting, but the merits of a solidly constructed and alluringly dreamy album like Life of Pause should never be underestimated.

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.

He and his brother have made an album that’s too impersonal to provide an actual emotional connection but also lacking the vision necessary to provide something out of this world.

Beats skitter, churn, and bubble with a menacingly magical quality but never do they outshine BANKS' vocals.

Jagbags runs into some of the same problems that previous Jicks records have faced; his nonsensical lyrical style, which veers between the sublime and the ridiculous at breakneck pace, is certainly an acquired taste, and his penchant for stylistic variation, as always, throws up the odd miss to go with the hits.

The majority stays well within its comfort zone, cuddling up to the listener, rather than poking them in the eye.

Although it is by no means a bad record, it just represents the first time that he has lost the emotional power that has previously made him so much more than just a man with a guitar.

Hawthorne has once again proved himself as a superb purveyor of funky jams that will please the ear and the spirit.

Overall, this is an album with fleeting moments of joy, but these are not sustained.

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.

There was a sense of duty in pressing play on Luminous rather than an organic excitement or desire.

Cohesively, Prhyme 2 serves as a pivotal point in the connection between old school and emerging rappers.

It's oxymoronic. It's uncalled for and essential. It's ridiculous and severe. It's useless and powerful. It's everything Run The Jewels stands for.

None of the songs here are particularly lengthy, but the way ideas evaporate almost instantaneously makes it a slog of an album. It doesn’t help that one-third of the tracklisting is made up of befuddling interludes, with only one (a reprise of another, no less) offering any intrigue thanks to some well-rendered telephone rings.

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.

Enjoyment of Mercy as a whole hinges on whether you consider the boyish, faltering vocal to be strong or cheesy.

Daughter--and Tonra in particular--have elegantly lowered their defences with Not to Disappear. Emotional literacy and gripping theatricality lie behind the wall.

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