On Autodrama the Kaplans stick with one sound. But it’s a confident one, strutting RnB that oozes beach house cool.

Jessica Rabbit is the work of a band in stasis, but also one who sound desperate to pull themselves out of it.

There are undeniable moments of beauty (the radar-bleeping beginning of “A Light Above Descending” is lent a lovely, watercolour quality by its gentle horn accompaniment), and the live cuts tend to fare better than the studio recordings, imbued as they are with a tangibly excitability. It’s irrefutable though--much of Sea of Brass (by which I mean both the studio album itself and its associated extras) does feel bloated.

The London four-piece mix and match ingredients to create sounds that, whilst respectful of what has gone before, are unmistakably rooted in the here and now. The results are frequently mesmerising.

It adds certain depth to its predecessor and itself, but if this came first it would’ve only made Quest For Fire better and a more enjoyable listen.

There are plenty of great ideas here, and if you really listen, they’re not particularly hard to find. But it would be nice to be able to let an album like this simply wash over you, rather than be forced to pan for gold in its still, murky waters.

Thank You for Stickin' with Twig is a riotous mess of electronic alterity. Press play and take the trip.

There's nothing particularly wrong with Clear Shot. It's a perfectly acceptable album, only it sounds like they're holding back a little.

Green's lyrics are a 140 character pop song. They are hyper-condensed. This can make them seem lazy and tropey--but she knows what she's doing.

Forgiveness is a confrontational, undiluted journey of self-acceptance and adulthood through cathartic electro-pop infusions and delicate introspections – Girlpool’s new era has succeeded them well.

What For? is slightly less varied than previous releases and exist just add to the gestalt of a ‘rock’ album. Thankfully, though, What For? ends on a high point.

Essentially, this is sugar-rush, hyperactive pop music for people with the attention span of a gnat.

There’s no doubt that the wait for O’Brien’s debut has been worth it. She’s an artist who has a vision, and has not only executed it but found a new way of kickstarting the heart of a genre that quickly became a dead horse to be flogged whilst commanding a new space of her own.

The Other Side of Make Believe is an Interpol ready for the new age. It’s proved they can move onto album seven – even when the world was forcing everyone apart – and amidst side projects and other endeavours, the trio are a staple the world would do better to relish in since they deliver a high quality every time without sacrificing any of that brooding integrity we all so know and love.

Larsson knows her strengths, but she knows them too well. If she could only break down the facade further and reach beyond her comfort zone to meet the listener halfway, she would be unstoppable.

Silver Wilkinson is a solid return to (mostly) familiar, territory.

An album of woozy nuggets of sonic delirium. Step inside.

PS I Love You stand worryingly characterless--as nervy as that inadvertently muttered, instantly regrettable moniker--in the corner of the party; forgettable faces soon cast into history once the fresh night air hits intoxicated skin.

Dormarion is a record that fits the Telekinesis mould whilst taking major strides towards breaking it; it’s uneven, sure, but it’s also pretty exciting.

Tweens pulls no punches, though; this is basic music and these are basic words expressing basic emotions.

Whilst Small World doesn't quite pack as much of a punch as Metronomy Forever, it’s a sweet and uplifting album.

There isn’t a better way that Skrillex could’ve made his return, and Quest For Fire will undoubtedly be remembered as one of his best.

Working Out is a sophisticated sounding record, but with only a handful of standout tracks, it may not be enough.

He may be pretentious, narcissistic and borderline offensive, but you have to hand it to Chilly--what he is doing here is pretty damned clever.

Nickel Creek’s great storytelling and vivid imagery, in most cases, never fails to enrich these anecdotes and reminiscences.

Twelve Reasons to Die II suggests that breaking new ground might be a futile undertaking if there's this much juice left in the good old tricks.

This feels somehow lower-key (less in-your-face) than the other two, and it feels much more cohesive as a result. ... The main problem with Doom Days: the more you put into it, the less you get out.

Worship The Sun definitely won’t disappoint fans of their self-titled debut, and the extra production values only adds to their refreshingly carefree style. A perfect album to hang onto the last remnants of long, hazy summer days.

Providing a sweet escape from the overwhelming world that inspired it, M83’s Fantasy is one that listeners will drift in and out of, but it retains the exhilarating signature sound that the multi-instrumentalist is rightly admired for.

Let’s Be Still is wholesome and sincere, in the way those words were intended, and without any pretense or airs and graces.

His voice, tremulous, always searching, always yearning, makes everything he plays sound like the aftershocks of a broken heart, his teasing humour assuring you that despite everything it’d probably be ok.

It tells more of a story than rolling news coverage ever could, and for that The End of Silence is as close as I’d ever want to get to real conflict.

Alias is by no means a bad album--on the contrary, it highlights the maturity and progression of four highly talented and much loved British musicians--but it’s just not that fun.

The constant more-is-more approach is no doubt a blast for the pickers in the studio, and it’ll probably sound cool live, but on the record, there’s an airlessness to it all. This isn’t always the case - the classy “String Theory” stands out for its delicate instrumentation built around subtle lap steel and sturdy stand up bass. This does however serve to bring Starr’s vocals to the fore.

Back to Land, then: business as usual, but the business remains good.

Pink still remains Boris’ best record, and the best entry-point into their staggering catalogue. But Noise is the best album since that, a staggering, cathartic masterpiece that won’t have much competition in terms of quality in 2014.

Between the dated indie dance and the ballads and the auto-crooned, electronic pop, there are promising, soulful, twinkling instances of intelligent sampling and singing and interesting instrumental interludes.

Standing alone, this a warming set of tastefully executed covers. But see the album in its context and you’ll find its beauty--a record of music repairing a once strained relationship.

At its best, >>> retains the weirdness but manages to staple it to some fairly colossal tunes, with an emphasis on huge grooves that nods towards Barrow’s background as a drummer.

It's a moody, hazy, gloomy take on modern jazz. It’s also a return of Iggy Pop the elder statesman, the icon, the legend in his own lifetime. But, more than that, it provides a fitting end to a career, on his own terms, if that’s what he wants it to be.

Less sprawling than its immediate predecessor, at its best it highlights the band’s creativity and tautness, echoing some of the vigour of Born on Flag Day.

It’s a great ending to a great record, one that musically takes Bulat a bit further from the folk comfort zone, but not so far as to lose the essential character of what she is about.

Yours Conditionally is much more fun when you allow yourself to dive headfirst into its strife and inhale its sarcasm rather than floating along its serene surface.

Unfortunately though, as a solidified body of work, it’s lacking. It can be likened to the Star Wars sequels: nostalgic, fun and thrilling, yet relies on sentimentality to entertain. It fails to offer anything particularly new, and feels completely thrown together disregarding the potential greatness that could’ve been.

Somehow intimate yet vast, Summer Through My Mind is a record that you may not like or even “get”, but you can lose yourself in the familiar sense of disorientation and confusion of life that is revealed by a divine understanding within the songs themselves.

Cronin is often at his best when laid bare, and one of MCIII's greatest moments is the relatively sparse closing track "vi) Circle."

Trap Lord is not an A$AP record; it is an A$AP Ferg record, sui generis, and that is its greatest achievement.

This weepy and emotive record will probably be glued to many turntables; the ideal soundtrack to a morning coffee.

Dove is an album of texture--there is nothing as immediate as “Feed The Tree” or any of Star’s off-kilter, head-rush singles and there is nothing as hooky and bright as King’s “Superconnected”--there are layers and copious amounts of digging involved here.

This is a stylish, warm-hearted album with a sense of humour, it takes a few risks and seeks to entertain, more often than not it does its job.

The album as a whole is a safer affair than Taylor’s previous releases, but for the most part it’s very good, and its cohesion isn’t necessarily a weakness. Still, it’s hard not to approach a new Self Esteem album expecting some kind of life-changing revelation, six months of therapy condensed into an hour-long speedrun.

This new LP doesn't really break new ground in the same way. It does flesh out his personality and provide substance behind the flashy pop showmanship though, and that's not something to be undervalued.

Though it needn't define them, with Until The Tide Creeps In Penelope Isles have built a strong foundation on familial dynamics and the criss-crossing of sibling perspectives with elegant and catchy songwriting, springboarding them in to the many sets of arms ready to welcome them.

Coomes wouldn't have the length career he's had if he wasn't a gifted songwriter, and hopefully if he puts out another solo album he can find a better balance between good weird and gratuitous weird.

Take Control colourfully, and often cartoonishly, blazes with a refusal to accept the monotonies of everyday life.

Welchez and Roswell have proven their creative resilience with Dreamless, an album that illuminates the painful moments that plague all of us, while also providing hope that creativity can keep the shadows at bay even in the darkest night.

More than ever, new guitar bands have to have a hook to differentiate them from the masses, and it’s the combination of Lardner’s witty company and QTY’s idiosyncratic approach to a well-loved sound that makes their debut a delight to spend time with.

Whilst some tracks are arguably a bit forgettable, this album is still full of some brilliant moments.

Fusing progressive big-beats, deeply personal lyricism and intelligent song-writing, it once again reveals IDER as the indispensable voices of a generation. Utterly compelling listening.

However cloaked in black this record often feels (the closing track “Sister” deals viscerally head-on with the issue of rape with passion and extreme clarity), it’s rarely at the expense of any listening pleasure; sure there’s little let up in the mood but when the writing is consistently good you really can’t quibble about wanting more colours on the palette.

Bigger. Messier. does drag a little towards the end – particularly when Elfman’s collaborators show too much respect for the original tracks. (Stu Brooks’ remix of “True” is an example of this: the bassist played with Danny Elfman at Coachella, and you get a sense that he’s a little too close to this music as a result.) But then the album closes out with an absolutely bonkers remix of “Happy” by Little Snake, who somehow manages both to deconstruct the track into smithereens and to enhance its gothic, trippy essence.

This sound suits TTNG, and always had really, but it feels all the more comfortable and at home with Dissapointment Island, and jokes aside, proves the title really is a misnomer.

It’s a considered, thoughtfully constructed record that adheres to a stylish, seductive aesthetic.

A new Dawes album will succeed for one primary reason: Taylor Goldsmith’s ability to connect with a new batch of stories. To that end, Stories Don’t End is another success.

Although wrestling with Sport, at first, may prove to be a challenging affair, it rapidly becomes a wholly rewarding and thorough sonic work-out.

All That Must Be is a record that frequently toys with this idea of transition; creating a constant balancing act between two forces fighting against each other. At some point someone has to give in, and this is the perfect soundtrack for letting go.

Make time for this single-sitting long-player and you will be rewarded.

Beck’s Colors is a musical invitation to a soiree that ultimately lacks both substance and staying power, and is crucially missing the self-awareness that something more important is at stake than merely having a good time.

Do Easy invites you into its own rarefied world, a world where things are exotic, tranquil and seductively unique and makes you want to stay there.

“I Shouldn’t Have Said That”, the pummeling psych diptych “Return of Witchcraft” and “Witchcraft”, and every other corner of Eggland find them in their sweet spot: blunt pop purity bolstered by Big Muff pedals and a sense of not-quite-reckless abandon.

The wondrous melodies sometimes come across as overly whimsical and fey, but Death Vessels create a communicative link from the human heart straight to the unknown realms of the cosmos.

What happened to Jason Chung’s mind and body in the last three years to prompt such a hesitant album is unclear, but despite its flaws, Home feels like the perfect encapsulation of weakness turning into strength.

While it is a shame that some of these ideas don’t feel more fully fleshed out, there are still plenty of moments that set characterise White Fence as some of the most interesting ’60s-tinged music being released.

Where The Heaven Are We ably showcases their innate knack for massive hooks--it’s a rock-solid debut with something for everyone.

A record to showcase where they are now, and hint toward where they might be headed.

Dalle sounds as if she’s on autopilot for much of Diploid Love; she’s obviously got talent to spare, but she’ll need to provide herself with a sterner challenge than she has here if she’s to truly capitalise on it.

You can come here for the unsuspecting pop songs, the meditations on traditional Scandinavian folk music, the strange humour and infectious friendships. Against the great abyss of tangled internet information, Saints and Sebastian Stories is an unobtrusive gem.

It remains to be seen whether Song of the Earth is just another curious left-turn in a discography full of them, or whether it signals a new Dirty Projectors epoch. What is certain though is that Song of the Earth is a thematically singular album.

Though the album can feel dangerously repetitive at times, slower takes like ‘So What’ act as a reprieve from these moments.

Poster Girl excels in its creativity, riffing on familiar pop music tropes to make fun and surprising tracks.

Choruses are plentiful, tactile songwriting makes for a spectacularly fun listen.

Ghettoville is lonely and solipsistic, music for 3am and the glow of streetlamps and the distant reflections of glass and steel, of crumbling urbanity meshed with neon glow and shadows cast long and deep.

What remains is a definitively good album, albeit not a great one.

All in all, Glacier appears to constitute a bid to be taken seriously.

There is undeniable beauty lying in each of these ten offerings, but when listened to in one sitting, they lose their individual draw.

Tonally, it falls somewhere between the shoegazey aggression of I Will Be and Only in Dreams’ hazy hooks, but it’s lacking the former’s force of character and the latter’s infectious melodies.

Picture You is most certainly amongst 2015's most remarkable releases. Drink it in, and be careful not to judge it too soon.

It’s the haunting, beat-driven atmospherics that ultimately make the songs memorable (or not), and throughout this new record the textured dynamics of these songs pulse with a clean, modern inventiveness, while also echoing the moody tones of his best work.

Combining the pop world’s two biggest current loves--forward-thinking dance music and throwback soul/funk--Jungle are ticking every box on the ‘perfect debut’ checklist, and they’re doing it with pizazz.

Once again this clutch of sound, coming in at under an hour, is the vehicle for one of the most unusual and malleable voices in Britain today.

Overall, Heyoon is an impressive effort, broad in its scope and ambitious in its reach. Landshapes possess passion in excess, and this is made evident in the unbridled rhythmic ruptures and psychedelic pulses that define the record.

A record of considerable dimensions, always well controlled though never in the least predictable.

It’s an unexpected but fitting swansong: like Brams’ presence in Stevens’ life and work, it is a gentle guide, and an encouragement to give our thoughts space.

There are at least a half-dozen verses in this album alone that stand amongst his best ever. ... Problem is, saying a whole lotta nothing for 70-plus minutes doesn’t exactly make for a compelling rap record.

For those that do connect with the concept of this album as a whole and allow themselves to become immersed in Abbott’s analogue world, Wysing is as beguiling and intriguing as any record released this year.

While it does skew a bit more electronic, Every Now & Then maintains the psychedelic spontaneity of the group’s first record and adds in even more refined percussion.

Imitations is another strong entry to the diverse repertoire of a singer who seems to be gaining an increasing grasp of his vast expressive potential with age.

Ultimately the potential legacy of BFF Hosted by DJ Escrow lies with the future artists it may inspire.