With the exception of The Band-esque fable "Percy Faith", the more light-hearted material proves less memorable. Even so, The Horizon Just Laughed continues Jurado's recent winning streak.

She didn’t make a record expected of her even by fans of her last LP and, in doing so, has produced something which is strange, chaotic and utterly her own.

On Nat Ćmiel’s fourth album, styles perfected and popularised by subversive 90s acts – Massive Attack and Nine Inch Nails will spring to mind – provide the guidance needed to explore new soundscapes, encouraging the singer-songwriter to surpass all previous achievements.

The collective's return gleams with ambition. Packing the same ferocity and awe of a firework display with ebullient lighter moments shaded with synth flourishes, and rapturously prototypical loud darker ones which apprehend and shake you to the core.

While the latter half of the record isn’t as engrossing as the first half, it still concludes with a solid trio of tunes.

Kill The Lights is one of the best albums to come out so far this year, and you can listen to it four times in an hour and still not be bored. That’s great songwriting.

In My Name Is My Name, Pusha T has produced one of the most diverse and constantly rewarding hip-hop records of the year; twelve tracks tied together by a man at the top of his form and who, quite soon, may yet reach the highest summits.

If this really is the end, You Can’t Go Back... is more than a worthy addition to the story of a band who leave behind one of the--if not the--richest catalogues in sunny-side-down American songwriting; only a few slightly stale rehashes of familiar templates towards the end keep this from achieving the lofty standards of, say, 2009's We Used To Think The Freeway Sounded Like The River.

Tempered with meditative calm, space and restraint are the dutiful catalysts of each blissful rupture and devastating pay-off.

Agora is hypnotic, transient and valuable and a rarity which although oppressive at times ultimately delivers on a promise as tangible as it is striking.

Not only is Gold-Diggers Sound the most cohesive release Bridges has put out to date, it’s also the most distinctive.

Loving In Stereo is a wholehearted triumph for Jungle, yet again delivering something fresh and distinctive to cut through today’s music landscape.

What it lacks in crowd-pleasing polish is gained in atmosphere. Intimate doesn’t begin to cover it.

Ghost Culture is a house fan's Alice in Wonderland experience--everything is curious, and nothing is quite what it appears to be. But everything is delightful.

This is a debut album that cements Fender’s place at the golden table: the perfect first attempt.

A Common Turn serves as an excellent commentary on modern life, with some intensely personal struggles that others might be wary of sharing, lined up and forensically examined.

Sleeping Through the War nods more than it winks, but it operates with its own in-joke sense of humor.

Brickbat is not an indulgent “supergroup” affair or a rehash of former glories (what would a Lush-Moose-Elastica-Modern English mashup even sound like?), it’s a chance alignment of classic alt-rock pedigree, on and of its own time.

It’s not a massive reinvention and it does generally lack the constant flow of melody that makes their previous work so irresistible. Having said that, they sit on the proverbial psychedelic throne for a reason; they’re trendsetters not copycats.

Its maximalist aesthetics and musical creativity combine to make something intensely addictive and satisfying, but it’s still inherently hard to put your finger on what exactly it is.

Thirstier seems to spin out of control in the name of artistic development. The daring dip into electronic garners mixed results.

It’s a sonic exploration that, not unlike graphic design, takes physical elements and visualises them in another manner. And it sounds incredible.

A master of mesmeric laments, Roberts can conjure dusky cemetery air in a twitching of his fingers or sombre exhalation, yet A Wonder Working Stone offers high spirits in the gloaming as well as low.

There is no question that this is a work of devotion, even a work of love, but as a document of raw emotion, it is lacking, it feels overly considered.

A Deeper Understanding doesn’t seem to arrive at any conclusions or answers to the questions of self and suffering that Lost in the Dream addressed, since they are inherently unanswerable. For The War On Drugs though, the importance has always lied in the journey, and this powerful record proves that the band has no signs of stopping along the way.

The album is heart-warmingly straightforward and honest in its lyricism with no attempt at being unnecessarily complex for the sake of it; smartly made with a finite tale to tell.

Colourgrade can be something of a challenge, and certainly an intentional one. Tirzah seems to wonder just how far we’re willing to follow her into the maw. There’s nothing else quite like this available, yet this doesn’t make it a particularly pleasant listen.

Songs that feel tantalisingly and really quite brilliantly caught between the factual lived reality and some sort of a distorted imaginary twist of it: is the latter song about the literal devil, or a more mundane personification of a devil fond of lies, empty promises and manipulation? Who knows, and it’s in these tantalising grey areas that Utopia really shines.