Butler has sculpted a complete, resolute collection of high-grade dance music.

It’s complex, witty, and--crucially--taps into a side of each man’s creativity in a manner hitherto unseen.

It’s Chairlift at their most vulnerable, but also at their most jubilant, documenting their burning passions with their most confident sound to date. Most importantly, it’s Chairlift at their most fun.

There’s a unique heart hidden deep with every album he creates, and Power Chords is no different. Open yourself up to the world of Krol.

I can see many listeners of all ages finding comfort across its eleven songs, bridging angst and hope as they navigate personal crises. Not only did Pierce The Veil understand the assignment, but they delivered it with almost flawless execution.

All things considered, Angel probably lacks the invention and imagination that it’d really require in order to be counted amongst the genuine candidates for the business end of the year’s ‘best-of’ lists; the sheer stylistic versatility that they’ve demonstrated, though, in swapping the claustrophobia of Crawling Up the Stairs for Angel’s wide-open spaces, should be enough to ensure that they’ll be there or there abouts.

The result is a collection of futile, brooding songs that tries to encapsulate bigger-than-life emotions but ends up being too afraid to truly delve into them. He could just need a little love from someone, anyone, to get that refined taste back.

It’s a record full of brilliant playing, solid gold songs and most importantly it feels like an honest assessment of where The Men are right now as a band and as individuals.

At its high points, Saviors is a reminder of why you fell in love with Green Day, a triumphant outing that will surely silence the critics.

Pokey will invite you to step away from the modern, more complex times and immerse yourself in a period of music from the mid western USA which formed the heart and soul of the country. It is a trip well worth it.

Abrasive but not completely inaccessible, it’s The Fall very nearly at their best.

The result is a lengthy cinematic suite of songs.... and in the rest; a record’s worth of epic, towering soundscapes built on sturdy prog and indie rock foundations.

Whilst no-one wishes further misfortune on NOTHING, Tired of Tomorrow proves they've learnt how to make the most of it and turn it into something dark, but beautiful. Its title suggests despondency, but its content should certainly leave them hopeful.

Like the rest of Ranaldo’s work post-Youth, this is a record that suggests that he was perhaps always the member of the band that had the most traditional songwriting sensibilities, and this is once again a thoroughly solid alt-rock effort with just enough of an adventurous slant--particularly, the flashes here and there of glitchy electronic textures--to please casual fans of his old outfit.

Hughes sells it (and everything else on Zipper Down) in spite of relevance or degree of truth because he knows what any fan of Eagles Of Death Metal knows: they're here to entertain you and that's pretty much it.

Metronomy have stepped up from the mantle of electro-pop, and matured into the sort of band that endures. Excitingly still, they leave us with no idea where they’ll go next.

Like a well-oiled machine, the band’s constituent parts interlock with each other in punctual dexterity; supple musicianship that stands out more than ever on this robust sophomore affair.

It’s not for the faint hearted, and its point isn’t to make you smile. But if you’re up for the challenge Damogen Furies is a steaming black shot of adrenaline.

Instead of signaling a demise (of a feline nature or otherwise), the album represents yet another sonic rebirth from a band who has been making a methodical career out of rising from the ashes of inactivity to surprise us all once again.

Desperate Ground is another great demonstration of what makes this band one of America’s worst kept secrets.

Each of his records could have come from any year from the past twenty five, to the next twenty five. There is the sound of now, the sound of then, and the sound of Dave Clarke.

The highs of Makes Me Sick Makes Me Smile are vibrant and energetic. Yet the album’s title itself encapsulates both these highs and the record’s low points. Some tracks merely plod along; others stretch dissonance to breaking point.

Although ten days shows a more subdued form of this euphoria, the personality and intricate storytelling has not faded.

It’s a record certainly fine enough to ensure the pairing will have no issues sprinting to the upper echelons of pop aristocracy.

While their aesthetic hangs in the balance, they’ve proven on The Age of Fracture that they have it in themselves to achieve cohesion.

While glaive clearly still has the chops to record something great, his debut falls short of the creativity that marked his meteoric rise to fame.

Different techniques are used throughout the album to create drama, allows a variety of emotive narratives to be explored.

All of those tracks ["God’s Plan," "My Enemy" and "Wonderland"] feel sparse, built softly with a light touch, which is why the overblown, full-steam-ahead manner of much of the rest of the album is so maddening and--given their past pronouncements on big studios and producers--so utterly perplexing.