GoldLink's debut album has something for every mood. Usually it takes an artist two or three albums before they reach maturity, however, with And After That, We Didn't Talk, GoldLink is well ahead of schedule.

Though it’s not surprising that Iggy included a couple of left hooks, it hurts a little bit that the album doesn’t have more of the sing-speak poetry and post-rock dreaminess. He does it so well, but only about 22 minutes are dedicated to this sound. ‘James Bond’, in contrast, is a distraction from a compelling new direction.

In some of its explorations of dance music’s sub-genres it is less successful, and can come off as a bit too cheesy for its own good, but it’s all produced, performed and sequenced with such careful consideration and bountiful charm, that its few shortcomings in pure songwriting terms can be overlooked.

One cannot help but feel as though, if White Lung had let themselves get a little messier on Paradise, it might have yielded an even more compelling result.

These improvised pieces are intricate and certainly stand up to repeated listens, and the album makes a good companion piece to Bishop's previous, rather fine, acoustic recordings.

Inji is an erratic debut album, an invitation to go forward into weirder territories with Dust in the future. As invitations go, however, it's intriguing enough to take up.

Ultimate Painting is a charming start point for a band who show enough charm to suggest they can turn out any number of superior follow-ups. On one or two tracks, they might one day prove essential.

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.

To the gustatory synesthete, listening to Kaytranada's music is probably the equivalent of sucking on a pack of Starburst where all the flavours are orange: refreshing at first, if not a bit sickly in the end.

While it isn't a far cry from Real Friend's first album, it still delivers an emotional punch with a hopeful glimpse of what's to come.

The House has moments where it seems like Maine might have said everything he’s capable of saying with Porches. However, there are enough positives, particularly around the end, to feel like he’s not bled his creativity dry.

Barnes has had a habit of throwing dozens of these complex noises and genres my way within the context of a single song. The newest, Aureate Gloom, has collected these idiosyncrasies in the best way since Fauna's atom bomb performances.

Blanket Waves asks for your attention, and suggests you try soundtracking your own life with its echoes of joy and terror. It's not a cop-out to say that this is music which needs to be infused with human experience.

Country Music is undoubtedly a taxing album. It was a challenge to record, and as a result it is a challenge to listen to.

Shortly after the release of Swimming Through Sunlight, Brown complained that he was already bored with its songs and admitted the band hadn't considered how it would feel to be bashing out the same garage band combinations a year later (the answer: tedious, if their new material-heavy live sets were anything to go by). With Heydays, they needn't stress about falling into that trap again.

All in all, Voyager is both a pleasant surprise and an addiction.

By making complex sounds and riffs seem simple and natural, it evokes a "you got this" feeling within that reassures you everything's going to be alright.

Grasque sometimes manages to make average pizza from excellent ingredients. When COYB are tenacious enough to boil a track down to a workable size, the result is a triumph. Often it can resemble unleavened music, stripped of the necessary rise and fall.

Map of the Soul: Persona is a bold, if tempered, call to Western media.

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

The beautifully crafted lyrics of Things Are Really Great Here, Sort of are slowly offset by the melancholy implied in the title, at times through the stirring yet mournful violin-caressing and whistling Bird.

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.

Her debut is in fact very well crafted despite wearing a lot of influences on its shining sleeves. It succeeds though in combining those influences into a very enjoyable album that mixes retro and contemporary genres.

Over the course of these five tracks, the assembled musicians bring their own roots music to the mix, and end up with something that is slightly different to anything they have done before.

Being is a bit fragmented, and purposefully so.

Gallipoli--a complete departure from band’s musically stale, emotionally sleepy No No No--reminds long-time listeners of the initial hype that surrounded Condon and Beirut long ago.

It all adds up to a pretty remarkable reinvention and album of leftfield synth-pop that is dark and mysterious enough to beguile in any language.

Smith curated these tracks to showcase her insecurities to fans that will relate to the transparency of her work. Lost & Found is a strong foundation for the up-and-coming Smith and her R&B fused experiences. The gushing warmth of her emotion resonates into a digestible, easy listening album.