Through this combination of the ethereal and the eccentric, Halo has curated a mix that twists neatly around her musical influences whilst lending an intimate sense of her own direction as a producer and DJ. It is a seamless collection rooted firmly in the contemporary which hints at a musician in complete artistic control.

Whereas the less compelling stretches of its predecessor found Wagner seemingly bewitched by the new gizmos at his disposal, favouring texture and tone over tunecraft, This is more readily recognisable as a collection of Lambchop balladry, albeit one decked out in technological finery.

On The Line may not be her strongest work, no matter how much it aims to be but it proves that Jenny Lewis doesn't need to try too hard to become one of the greats. She's already been one for a while.

Some tracks sound like Elvis ballads drowned out by faulty styluses and retro sound systems. Others are breathy song-cycles of gospel folk. For all the rich breeze and slinking Tarantino guitars in "Hope To Die", the track more resembles an ‘80s Mazzy Star-era shoegaze piece for the country purists to languish on. With Pony, Orville Peck has put himself in the boxing ring for his own ’68 Comeback Special.

Tight melodic fare is coupled with less conventional overtones, interlacing with each other in an alchemical fashion that proves both breezy and combustible; a hypnotic tension that continues to reward on repeated playback.

This natural movement away from jazz has led them to a sort of awkward middle ground. It feels like To Believe is a beautiful soundtrack to a film we don’t have the visuals for. And it’s just not quite enough on its own.

Recorded live without headphones or separate tracks, the sound is intimate and conspiratorial. The perfect polish of a meticulously assembled recording is set aside in favour of a sense of the room and the musicians in it, united in their organic performances.

This album might not save the world or slow down the steady decline of our rainforests, but perhaps it will raise a little awareness, bring a bit of hope, and create a whole lot of smiles for all of those that hear it.

For Yanya, this is a masterful debut that, like a tasting menu, looks jarring on paper but, in practice, is tantalising, surprising and undoubtedly impressive.

The powerful fusion of the electronic and the classical crucially allows the brothers to lightly grasp the hands of their listener, and guide them through dreamscapes of cosmic beauty, searing light and haunting darkness.

It’s Real displays the same exuberance and professionalism--not to be taken as a dirty word here, but as testament to the band’s seemingly effortless knack for arrangement and execution--as its predecessor but adds a handful of different moods and textures.

Standouts like “The Sun Also Rises,” “Car into the Sea” and the title track are also just as groovy as anything from that era, but never does the album sound stuck in it. The Modern Age is a very welcome return.

Its grief is visceral, and most disconcerting of all, most listeners will find themselves identifying with some ogre held within these tracks. Listening hangs you upside-down, bat-like, to cling to the darkness with them, which is in turns deeply uncomfortable and oddly cathartic. A brilliant and awful trip.

There’s a sensitive soul underneath Birthday’s hyperactive bounce, and it tends to come out clearest when Pom Poko find a sweet spot and stay there for a minute.

Trust is every bit as impressive as The Comet Is Coming's debut. Which is pretty high praise indeed.

Like other Matmos albums, it relies too heavily on the concept behind the album for merit. Plastic Anniversary is an impressive experiment with intriguing results; it's not, however, an album you'll likely find yourself revisiting time and time again.

It’s a heady, dazzling blend of pop, punk, dance, funk and electronica, moulded into a swirl of kaleidoscopic energy.

Groove Denied is lesser than Sparkle Hard, and greater. Not so happy, yet much happier.

Lux feels refreshing in the freedom and desire to explore new territory, resulting in a win for both.

Whether it is the temporary respite from a challenging sonic environment or the steady progression towards splendour, On Time Out of Time is a rewarding experience for those willing to tolerate challenging moments in a celestial sea of sound. For Basinski, time is an artefact and he is its curator.

Brief moments give breathing space in a record that’s suffocatingly intense. PSYCHODRAMA isn’t an album to stand up and rejoice to. It’s a sit-down-and-consume, a listen-and-learn. In doing that, you appreciate the blood, sweat and tears that have gone into the prose. It’s an overwhelmingly powerful 51 minutes of music unlike anything released this year.

Wonderfully fearless from start to finish, Donnelly speaks up for those who either won’t or can’t.

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

Whether in Harare, Rotterdam or Peckham, Mushonga feels those most-human of emotions: heartache, isolation, pressure to conform, but refuses to be shackled by them. Instead, we are invited on her geographical and psychological journey, and encouraged to embrace the turbulence.

Snapped Ankles make music to soundtrack the apocalypse, and you can’t help simply sitting and enjoying the ride.

Sundara Karma have grown both personally and musically with this album and they have delivered a follow-up that is confident and utterly fearless. With more direction than their previous entry, Oscar Pollock’s weird and wonderful mind becomes the main spectacle and something to truly admire.

There Will Be No Intermission is a work of art. It’s as political a record as it is personal.

[This record] showcases a band capable of innovating, pushing themselves and experimenting eight albums deep to come up with an album more than worthy of praise.