What comes across perhaps more strongly in this audio version of Before The Dawn is the subtly contrasting nature of the two suites, their disparate characters--entrapment versus liberation, petrifying terror versus exultant joy--reflected in the music.

Flower Boy presents a surprisingly sensitive, thoughtful, even pleasant personality.

The results are looser and less formal than might be expected, more imbued with soulful swing, slipping back and forth between the modes and incorporating ecstatic gospel-style call and response passages against a patinated backdrop of shakers, percussion, swooping synths and droning organ.

If such bittersweet reflections came packaged on a solo Albarn release, they’d probably be set to sorrowful, detached, acousto-electronic sounds. But his old friends have alchemised those sentiments into songs that elevate his suburban tristesse into moments of sheer ecstasy.

Blending Cline originals and recent covers with reimagined standards by the likes of Jerome Kern and Rodgers & Hart, all realised in beautifully enigmatic arrangements which wrap woodwind, horns, strings and tuned percussion around Cline’s guitar. Throughout, atmosphere is paramount.

This is a record that expands the idea of what Sleaford Mods could be.

In the past, Obert’s fractured lyricism has sounded too blunt against such stark instrumentation; here it’s as though his words are being bathed in moonlight, coaxed softly into being. A wonderful, lucid dream of a record.

An album that soothes, shakes and surprises at every turn.

Perhaps their greatest album since their Mercury Prize-winning breakthrough The Seldom Seen Kid, released over a decade ago.

For the most part, this is an album that restores faith in the sheer joy of music.

I Slept On the Floor is a marvellous, and intense, debut.

The warm but haunting Trouble Will Find Me will surely cement their accession to the rock mainstream.

There’s an interior dialogue throughout, which is sometimes more intriguing than musically engrossing. ... But there is transcendental beauty here to get lost in.

Kate Tempest’s follow-up to the dazzling Everybody Down is similarly ambitious in scope, fired by the same compassion and delivered with the same level of energised loquacity.

Her soothing voice, though very lovely, doesn’t always sell the cleverness of her lyrics.

On this album, you find yourself drifting in and out. She tackles trolls, racism, overpopulation and the internet age. You crave solutions as each track closes, or perhaps more of those sublime, witty character studies she offered on Let Them Eat Chaos.

What’s impressive is how Thundercat makes this music, with its complex structures and zigzagging rhythms, so human.

Where most rock superstars sink into trad tedium by 69, Springsteen is still crafting sophisticated paeans of depth and illumination, a rock grandmaster worthy of the accolade. A must-have for anyone who has a heart.

It’s not quite godlike, but Yeezus certainly feels like it was created by a higher power.

The impression is of someone picking obsessively at an emotional scab, which is effectively what The Wall is all about.

Backed by a band who vigorously play to his timeless strengths, he sounds as sprightly as ever.

Re-Animator packs global anxiety and paranoia into exquisitely crafted songs. A superb album.

It’s a peculiar record and one that involves a push-and-pull between two extremes; on the one hand, the instrumentation is wound tight and built around sharp melodies that, at their best, are difficult to shake off--‘Bellarine’ and ‘Sister’s Jeans’ in particular are real earworms.

What’s Your Pleasure? reveals the magic that happens when an artist feels truly free.

Prelude to Ecstasy gleefully delivers.

Far from being burned out (or being bullied into selling out) by the sudden wave of global fame, they’ve doubled down on their own weird energy. Moisturizer's uncanny electricity is off the voltmeter.