A condensed but still very enjoyable facsimile of Snaith's multi-faceted, technical and tasteful dancefloor oriented abilities.

What’s also new about this particular Dave Portner is that the overflow of ideas, lyrics, and themes doesn’t turn spastic and blurry like it has on records past. Eucalyptus, though adventurous, is down to earth and focused. It’s by far the most spiritual Avey Tare has ever sounded (except for the transcendent love on AnCo staple ‘Fireworks’).

Blast Off Through The Wicker is the equivalent of an efficient weekend overseas excursion; short, beautiful, and enjoyable, but it won’t leave you tired or wishing you had had longer.

Over repeated listens, the former evolves into a touching meditation on love’s complexity and erraticism, where introspection intercedes the Big Important Questions.

Crutchfield is baring her soul and just about every song shows some signs of greatness. It comes up short, but not for a lack of trying.

At its peak, Boo Boo is Toro Y Moi’s most luxurious, if not remarkably lush effort since 2011’s Underneath the Pine.

Public Service Broadcasting's intentions are to be praised, even if the result is weak and unfocused. If the SDP leadership had formed a band, it would sound like this.

This is more a record for hardcore fans than casual ones, though there are some distinct highlights.

Unfortunately, aside from a couple of other stronger tracks (‘Gonna Get Better’ and ‘Towers and Masons’ – one of Brendan Canning’s contributions), the rest of the album isn’t something I have a desire to return to.

Ultimately, this seems to be his goal on Ruinism; to take you into a world of house and electronic music, where each and every artefact that you thought were held dear can be just as easily crumbled and recontextualised to create a whole new atmosphere. This is where which he wants you to venture, and not look back.

Whether he's taking himself to task, tossing shots in every direction (see: ‘Bam’), or simply reminiscing as on the glorious glide of ‘Marcy Me’, he sounds perfectly at home. ... 4:44 presents a renewed Jay-Z.

An album that is stacked full of mind-transporting moments, rendered by carefully selected, produced and deployed analogue elements. It’s a lot to pack into 40 minutes, but it ensures that Theory Of Colours is not only a noteworthy debut album, but a statement of beautiful, fascinating intent from Dauwd.

LANY is certainly listenable and its hour run-time isn’t a total drag (grating voicemail interlude ‘Parents’ notwithstanding). There’s just a deficit of substance in an album that practically seems to be begging for you to feel something.

With a release drowning in possibilities, Floating Points' latest is a humbling work of art, ridden in environmental discoveries, alongside an empowering sense of mental stability.

While this album is being heralded as a triumph by many, to this writer it feels more akin to an in-between; furtive steps in a new direction that will almost doubtlessly be mined even more successfully next go round--assuming our hero doesn't veer in yet another direction. What's sure is, we'll never be bored.

This record’s three parts, separated by the gender of the narrator and little else, are muscular, repetitive, exhausting pieces of psych-math riffs that hardly let up. They make me feel like I’m stuck on an endless dancefloor, forced to nod my head into eternity.

A Place I'll Always Go makes you forget about the good, the bad, and the ugly, and proves the fact that Palehound are one of the most relevant indie rock bands to date.

It’s her most complete-feeling album to date, and never seems like Halo is trying to please anyone but herself. Yet, she also manages to create emotional bridges through the sincerity of her compositions.

The best thing you can do is let Iteration’s rain-soaked neon lights wash over and see what you feel.

Peasant is a pretty staggering departure from the massed ranks of 2017’s batch of albums. It is a restorative, headstrong burst of inspiration from an artist with the courage to execute his vision without compromise. If ever an album deserved to rise above the fray, it is this one.

An auspicious debut for Trevor’s career, Andy Warhol’s Dream’s only faux-pas is that it probably set the bar too high: it’s an incredibly solid, balanced, and overall beautiful album. I can’t wait to see him perform it live.

On The Echoing Green is an experiential album, but not in the way of something like The Wall. This is an album that seduces you to come and spend some time with it; sit in the shade with it, stroll in the hot summer sun with it, take a dip in the lake with it.

As a breakup record City of No Reply is truly refreshing. It’s vulnerable without being either self-defeating or overly-aggressive and it’s both honest and warm, admitting blame without being overly-dramatic.

Unfortunately, Morby's latest effort seems to purposefully aim for the very middlest of the road.

Fleet Foxes return with a grand, theatrical approach to music as a whole, and although they reminisce on their grand, prog-folk glory days, Crack-Up as a musical statement is genre-less.

Written during tumultuous times, Ti Amo is the soundtrack to a future as hopefully bright as the record itself.

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