For die hard Reich fans, these recordings may not reveal anything wildly different than what has preceded in a vast corpus. Reich is a composer whose work contains great nuance, and it is certainly the case for Pulse / Quartet. These are recordings that demand a few listens, they are worth it. Allow yourself to get lost in them.

True North is another solid addition to a formidable canon.

The closer Perhacs stays to her original organic vision, the better The Soul of All Natural Things sounds.

Truth Decay is still, at every turn, a quintessential You Me album. The choice not to deviate into experimental territory is comforting rather than disappointing, and a more than solid addition to their catalogue is no bad thing.

Algiers don’t feel ahead of the curve, they feel like they are racing on a different track. When combined with their expansive range of collaborators, that willingness to go their own way makes for a powerful new addition to their catalogue with Shook.

Whilst Love Goes could have been an album containing only Smith’s newer dance sound, the album does offer something for all Sam Smith fans, to mixed results.

This album is pretty good – the beats are nice, the rapping is decently energetic and forceful. But in the context of Peggy’s discography, where he’s invariably flowed like all hell over the most original production in recent hip-hop memory, this falls a little flat. I Lay Down My Life For You is good – but it isn’t quite good enough.

For the most part, a palpable sense of uncertainty permeates the lower-key proceedings, with the eerie strings of the title track proving a winsome kick down the rabbit hole into a place populated by unease and confusion.

The album does peter out somewhat. “Smugglers” is a languid rockier offering that only picks up in the last cacophonous couple of minutes and the final song, and album title track, “Glutton For Punishment” is a sweeter sounding, ironic take on maybe attracting the barrage of chaos life can bring. But when viewed in its entirety the album feels like a momentous leap.

It’s dreamy without being a sonic sedative; vaguely psychedelic and hypnotic without zapping energy levels.

Subdued brass notes in the closer, “Left Handed Lover,” and the sludgy rock tempo shift in “Dogs” point to ambitions unrestrained by the genre confines of country and folk. Dozier does leave plenty of room to explore these ambitions more completely on a future project, but I Am The Prophet also remains dense and striking in its own right.

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.

With buttery vocals and perfectly-paired suave jazz instrumentals, - Ugh, those feels again is slick in its depiction of enigmatic love. While it may not be breaking boundaries sonically, the album’s saving grace is Aalegra’s thoughtful lyricism in which she encapsulates fear, loss, heartbreak and self-growth with tenacity and an empathetic tone.

Hard Boiled Soft Boiled is an album of progress for Odonis Odonis, and while appearing to be a bit conceptual on the outside, it’s got one hell of a tasty centre.

It’s impossible to listen to Sticky Wickets without amusement, but on occasion the procession of guests and parade of pastiches threaten to encroach into “novelty” territory.

Strand of Oaks’ particular synthesis of modern sounds with retro feels is as entertaining as it is uplifting. Just don’t expect it to stir you like the Boss can.

I see it as less of a leftovers album, and more of a personally curated buffet.

There’s plenty to enjoy on The Third Eye Centre, but it’s considerably closer to ‘fans only’ territory than its indispensable predecessor.

In places Toro Y Moi succeeds effortlessly in adapting the mainstream for his own alternative means, but frustratingly, at times is only as meaningful as few comedy jabs of the ’90s dance demo button.

Fans of Oldham pre-BPB will be presented with a wealth of nuance and points of comparison, though first-time listeners would likely be alienated by its understated sound and self-referential motifs.

Foals' new direction is as exciting as it is flawed, and although it isn’t executed to perfection there is serious potential here.

There are times throughout that Viscius appears at ease and elsewhere there are signs she’s simply exhausted and drained. All cried out. But as the album ebbs away with the hushed tones of her singing, “No one loves me anymore” on “No One” it’s as if a huge burden has lifted, finally.

The core of the album, for all its cultural commentary and musical relevancies, is just a solid guitar-indie foundation.

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.

To be sure, there are some first-rate potential singles hiding amidst the bombast.

Jumping the Shark, with its clear central premise and limited musical palate, is inherently niche, but if you find yourself intrigued by his storytelling Cameron won’t need any gimmicks to keep you invested.

As emotionally sharp as ever, and as easily vulnerable but with some fierce love in her corner, this is the sound of twigs really loving what she does and putting herself at its core.

Ultimately In Amber demonstrates an unexpected mastery of dance floor inflected, gothic-folk tinged, post punk, driven by raw feeling and humanity. With topics as grave, the fact these songs only occasionally teeter on the hazardous borderline where meaning meets portentention is a mark of the sheer skill of those involved.