Pop’s going through a renaissance of sorts lately, or more accurately, the chart-dominating pop is, and alongside the aforementioned, La Grange is leading the charge of the nu-pop brigade. Avoid at your peril; the record’s not for missing.

The four tracks that make up S are infectious and delivered with a well placed tongue-in-cheek, and each one certainly feels like an exercise in Moss' own musical exploration.

Ultimately, it may not dramatically change their fortunes, but it remaina an album that’ll help further cement Cold Pumas as being one of the UK’s most underrated bands.

Language is satisfyingly expansive, exploring the connection between communication and physicality in contemporary queer relationships.

There’s are threads of heritage strung through Emerald Valley, not just in the vintage ‘70s/’80s guitar pop pedigree of the riffs and rhythms (“One Flew East,” “Break Me” and “Last Chance County” all from the second half particularly stand out), but also in Tucker’s lyrics and delivery, which are earnest and earthy without curtailing her natural dynamic.

The Districts have evolved into something bigger and brighter with their fifth release. Turns out Great American Painting is pretty great.

Sorry I'm Late is certainly a belated arrival but it shows signs of positive momentum for Mae Muller and will have an emotional impact upon listeners whose path intertwines with hers – it’s just a shame that any sense of sonic bravery wasn’t given the opportunity to carry that influence further.

The powerful, FIFA-ready indie rock is good and often great, but these spare, vulnerable songs are the record’s most powerful. Bakar is becoming one of the most distinct personalities in UK pop, and the more of him he shows us, the better he becomes.

This certainly won’t be the most original album you’ll hear this year, but it will be one of the most charming, and the rate at which Jones is managing to churn out quality pop songs bodes well for the future, and means you can forgive him Sob Story‘s occasional misstep.

It’s half magical, lush, and wholesome, and half redundant. Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in repetitive cycles, not knowing when to quit. That moment has finally arrived for Titus Andronicus.

This time out, they do a far better job injecting their own original spirit into their stirring music and impassioned songs, while taking these familiar musical sounds and styles of the past in a modern new direction.

TV En Francais isn’t less successful than its predecessors, but the tracks that show a band evolving naturally offer a more welcomed take on the band in 2014.

Skip track one though, leave it to simmer a while, and Apocalypse Soon should inevitably be soundtracking at least some of the summer of 2014.

Scandinavian pop clearly plays an influence alongside contrasting splashes of psych-rock and raw, grungy punk, and the unique little fantasy worlds they create with it are a great form of escapism.

With the lows and highs out of the way, the three other mixes sit somewhere on the fence.

In Restriction, Archive have created an album that does a fine job of representing their eclectic ethos, but this eclecticism also leads the album to occasionally touch on the edge of incoherence.

Although the urge for transformation is commendable, sometimes a change isn’t quite as good as a rest.

There are certainly high points to be found here, but the feeling that vital cogs in the Rustie machinery are missing never quite subsides.

Dark elements permeate the menacing corners of Crawling Up The Stairs, and while it may have been a long, grueling journey to get through, it seems that by the end of this bumpy road, Pure X have reached a positive creative terrain that suggests their long climb up the from the bottom was worth all the effort and pain it took to get there.

Taken as a ‘new’ complete album it could do with stretching out a little and lighting the occasional fire under the occasionally maintained for a touch too long strolling pace, but it works absolutely fine as a way of shining new light on often overlooked but clearly internally beloved outposts of their two decade career of rainy nights and velvet-lined plush bars at last orders.

While there’s some quirky songwriting and clever lyrical tales on The Tourist, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah just don’t seem to be hitting the mark that they once did.

Trip at Knight is likely the closest Redd has come to snapping into the desolate, depraved world he’s so eager to create. When the ashes settle, there’s the sense that he still has some miles to go, but there’s no taking this moment away from him.

Even when 6LACK is on cruise control, the emotional hour drives by, hiding thoughtful romanticisms and nuanced musical flashes that are a delight to discover.

Odds are Future will drop another project or five between now and the end of the calendar year, so while EVOL is ultimately dispensable it’s still a pretty good time.

Rebel Heart is chaotic. It’s often amazing, and occasionally crap. If she deleted half of its tracks, it’d be the comeback record she was hoping for.

There’s a communal ambience on show here; using three vocalists gives it a mixtape aesthetic, the music feeling like a bulging bag of pick and mix.

With Chasing Yesterday it certainly ain’t broke; it may not be as wacky as he imagined it, but it does its job rather well.

This is a frustrating second record, but it does prove that To Kill A King have the potential to be a far better band.

Rather than making a sharp left turn on Basses Loaded, the band instead pays homage to their long, curious history by plugging in with some longtime cohorts, making an unholy ruckus, and once again not giving a damn about what we think of it.

In the end, few of the songs here approach the heights promised by his debut. But Scott, still just twenty-two, deserves the time and the encouragement to develop what is very clearly a unique voice.

Twenty one years since his Mercury Prize nominated debut solo album Maxinquaye emerged, Tricky may have finally delivered one that can stand proudly equal alongside it.

It glistens like a pop album should, shimmering like a blue lagoon under midday sun..

The record doesn’t fully commit to a new direction, so its primary audience will still be Avett diehards, but it’s a fun listen for the summer and a testament to the brothers’ enduring success as one of the savvier folk groups out there.

Cool Planet sits perfectly in the balance of effortless craftsmanship and half-arsed laziness. Just where it should be.

The misfires on iii are few, and this is a record that deserves spins not only from Miike Snow diehards, but also those who believe the group may not be their cup of tea.

While perhaps not the return to bigger records that fans of Salad Days might have hoped for, Five Easy Hot Dogs stays true to the linear, if unexpected, evolution of Mac DeMarco’s music. Each iteration is somehow even more sparse and experimental; it seems this record is the result of DeMarco slowly whittling down his sound until it is just its own essential core.

Sure, there are flashes of brilliance where studio trickery elicits intriguing headphone moments but these are by-and-large in the minority.

It’s difficult, though, to listen to fifty percent of Sonic Youth making endearingly experimental music and feel obliged to pick faults with it. When Last Night on Earth gets it right, the results are magical--the searing ‘The Rising Tide’ is the highlight of any post-Youth output to date.

The Strokes have shamefully settled for average, and have failed even at that.

The Concrete Knives will be a nice addition to the Bella Union family as they fit right in by not fitting in, instead, carving their own path while instructing us to do the same: Be Your Own King.

Ride The Black Wave is both a joy to listen to and a pain to consider critically: The type of music they’re playing could realistically be called superfluous or superb, depending on your level of engagement with it; the tunes could be called plagiaristic or panoptic depending on your state of mind when you’re listening to them.

Lacuna is a euphoric, ecstatic and effortlessly cool record which warrants your undivided and immediate attention.

The Visitor excels in the kind of attention to detail and musical imagination that's eluded Young in recent years. If the backing of California quartet Promise of the Real (featuring Willie Nelson's songs Lukas and, when playing live, Micah) has brought to mind a cut-price Crazy Horse on their previous two collaborations with Young, the band are superbly versatile here.

“Complicate it”, “heavy”, “heartbreak3r”, all standalone fine, but ultimately all bring the same contribution to the shape of on to better things without providing much else. Where he digresses though, he does so excellently, promising that maybe with the challenge of a feature or with the fire to push his sound a bit more, he could be great.

For the most part Lysandre is a masterful exhibition of how to execute and relay truth and emotion.

Time Is Over One Day Old use a less is more approach, the understated subtlety of which results in their best album to date.

It's clear what they've wanted to do, and in some aspects have nailed it head-on, but to execute this properly, there needs to be more focus on wrapping that pure-as-fuck punk heart that beats in their chests in something more than a cartoon unicorn.

It’s a very strong release, energetic and intense, and promises a high-octane finale.

This record represents a bold, imaginative first step for a young band that seems poised to take their sound anywhere.

It’s a tried and tested formula, but no one really does it in a manner as unfailingly, beautifully hilarious as The Vaselines.

With Truth is a Beautiful Thing London Grammar have created a world that knows when to be expansive and when to be introspective, building on their DNA and adding more dextrous, yet suitably restrained arrangements.

While by no means a bad record, Sam Smith’s Gloria is largely hit-or-miss.

Ultimately, it’s a hypnotic and intermittently enjoyable experience, which whilst a little overextended and at times as shallow as the music it pastiches, marks a convincing enough return for Cut Copy.

May You Marry Rich is something all of its own; it has a sense of danger and a distorted outlook that is extremely alluring. It’s a wonderful, wonderful thing.

If a long playing ode to the wonder of women was the driving concept behind G I R L, then of course, Williams has failed. If however, you want to hear an artist at the height of his popularity who’s all up in this place for a good time, then grab a hand and raise a cup (if you must), this G I R L will keep you entertained throughout.

It’s not quite as appealing generally speaking, but does feature music for those moments when a soundtrack to a subtle atmosphere is needed-- whether on screen or in imaginations--with hints of more life slipping in between.

It is a good record, brimming with lavish, romantic nostalgipop that will rekindle your love for Grease, neckerchiefs and pomade.

Mama’s Boy proves that standing still isn’t an option as LANY honour their humble beginnings as their most authentic selves. It may not be the iridescent sunset we’re used to, but LANY are home.

It is easy to imagine there are a number of extra levels to reach, and the glimpses he has provided on this album should only serve to increase excitement about what he could do in the near future.

Griff has a talent made for the stage, but Vertigo is often hindered by its avoidance of risks.

The slight disappointment of Disc 39 is that Cole’s comfort in his recent life leaves less to be explored than you might hope. That said, there are certainly high-points throughout and the reflection of "Quik Stop" and "and the whole world is the Ville" illustrate Cole’s growth and position now as an elder statesman.

La Luz excel when they commit to the way the songs of that era worked, rather than settling for the aura or the pleasant, used-vinyl memories of it all.

The songs here are elegantly crafted, and keenly constructed, but there is absolutely nothing on the record that you haven’t heard – done better - elsewhere. Your enjoyment of the album will depend entirely on just how much soft-focus, meandering indie music you can stomach.

A collection that future-proofs Kavinsky’s curation of high-end production, addictive earworms and cinematic scope.

As a soundtrack to a new era where we’re all through the looking glass, old certainties bonfired and every phone alert quickening the pulse, Rennen hits the right tone--its rhythms shivering and uneasy, its melodies veering from melancholy to euphoria in a single stride.

Campfire Songs admirably continues along their new musical direction and beckons you to head to Vermont wearing a wooly jumper, with all ingredients needed for S’mores in tow.

Tricky’s struck gold once again with this.

Throughout the album, there’s a sense they’re just playing around.

This is Suuns’ third album but their essence hasn’t changed, just honed.

Run Fast Sleep Naked is pure escapism, from his grandmother’s living room to a studio in Tokyo, every track unveils a pivotal moment in Murphy’s journey and what could have easily fallen into the trap of being stuffy and overproduced excels in its minimalistic mastery and proves that Nick Murphy’s music is truly out of this world.

Intoxicating soundscapes and irresistible hooks have long catapulted Leff to the top of the pop sphere. All 4 Nothing not only reaffirms this notion, it’s perfect proof that there is so much more to come; a glimpse into the depths of Lauv’s psyche and unlimited creative potential.

On the parts of this album that are worth remembering there are subtle signs of a stylistic and emotional shift. You can sense Future dabbling in the extra-rhythmic potential in his vocals, and there’s a delight in Future’s register that’s been notably absent on his records since after Honest.

The ambition is staggering and for Fatima Al Qadiri to have made Asiatisch both a coherent listen and a sensible comment on western perception it means we’ve not only got a talented musician on our hands but also an extremely wise cultural commentator.

It’s worth a spin for sure, and there’s some spangly gems on offer, but if you were looking for a reinvention of the wheel, Blouse are going to make you wait a bit longer.

Friendly Bacteria is the sound of artist easing back into his chair refusing to play the fool to get people’s attention and, unfortunately, the majority of it just passes by like a breath of wind.

Bazaar achieves what it goes out to do well, but could do with a few more of the mind-benders they are fully capable of achieving.

To the Ghosts finds them in their most solid and mature form to date.

It's not a perfect record and finds Gaga pulling in so many different directions, but these are songs tied together by a common feeling. There is so much warmth here, so much that's human, and a lot to love.

The outright corniness of some of the tracks--the steel drums of “Night Chef”, the softened yacht-rock of “Conceptual Mediterranean (Part 1)”--test the listener’s patience. Ultimately the purposeful superficiality of Out of Touch renders it inessential.

Randolph has come home and he’s never sounded better.

Although they bring precious little new to the table, they have mastered the art of hiding beautiful melody under layers of glorious distortion.

Amphetamine Ballads probably shouldn’t feel like quite so much of a breath of fresh air--there’s plenty of evidence to suggest that it wears its influences (or has them tattooed, probably) very much on its sleeve--but it carries a threatening urgency so often conspicuous by its absence nowadays.

As brief as it is, and as unadventurous as the remixes are, Music Industry 3 Fitness Industry 1 may just be the mouthful of Mogwai nourishment needed by those left wanting more after Rave Tapes.

With all of their untameable if bizarre likeability, Shonen Knife are clearly a band that can just keep on giving.

Dream World is fine, but save for one or two tracks there's little on it that couldn't be called dispensible.

[“Modern Loneliness”] is quietly anthemic; an ode to the contradictions of contemporary culture and the cognitive dissonance of wanting to feel better but not doing anything to get there. It’s the perfect conclusion to an album which speaks to the various anxieties of both its subject and its listeners.

While Dark Hearts hits an exceptional stride in its beginning, we find quickly that its other tracks don’t necessarily live up to their fullest potential.

On this accomplished fourth album, Little Dragon’s enthusiasm is palpable and their world well worth exploring.

MITM is an album with depth, and will please both hardcore grime-heads and casual fans. You’d have to be mad in the manor not to love it.

It is the sound of a band reaching into new musical territory. Eyeland is flawed but unquestionably rewarding and, at times, outrageously impressive.

Grief and hardship have changed Surfer Blood, there’s no denying that. But they deserve praise for making a record that still has its own joie de vivre and doesn’t completely overhaul the alphabet that has made the band a success in the first place.

Wrapped in ’60s nostalgia and emphasising the complexities of emotions, the record really has a little of everything, except true love.

It’s an album that coheres more effectively than did the first, and it’s one that shows an adventurousness while staying within sight of the elemental spirit of its inspiration.

The grit has returned, but new shimmer introduced on that album has not, and the result is a much more rounded and energetic sound.

Though it tails off, it starts wonderfully, and how much you enjoy No World’s second half will entirely depend on whether you thought the successes of its first were so great that they were worth repeating within the following 20 minutes.

Had it been released by a lesser pair, this album would doubtless by hailed as full or potential, the first LP from a vital new force in alternative hip-hop; however, as it has been released by these two, it falls jarringly flat when one considers what they’re capable of.

It's an album of disco sadness, dry ice cut by lasers enabling glimpses of people dancing in with tears in their eyes. The reality doesn't actually sound like much fun, but within the context of Now I'm Ready, it manifests itself into arguably the best pop record of 2015.

Despite the mad proliferation of comparable contemporaries, The Deer Tracks have balanced out, and in so doing added context to their oeuvre whilst avoiding sounding derivative.