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.

We’ve only got eight tracks here, about twenty or so minutes of music, but not a second of it is wasted, and just about every moment is brilliant.

It’s a worldly record in many ways, and though the core tenet is of his personal feelings, it works just as well as you what you’d probably assume the record to be about--abandoned cities.

There’s plenty of kernels of good ideas here, but very few of them feel properly developed; just as their genre’s been thrust into the spotlight, Sleepy Sun seem to have developed stage fright.

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.

The group may be battling their more indulgent tendencies at times, but Drive-By Truckers always find a path back towards redemption somewhere along the line.

If a whole album could sum up my juvenile years of prepubescent chanting along to anthems in the kitchen at house parties, it would be this.

Neil Davidge takes full advantage of his big opportunity to finally show off his textured sonic mastery on a full-length that is entirely his own, and Slo Light only enhances his reputation as one of the greatest sound alchemists of his time.

MØ’s debut LP is an exquisite collection of synthpop, dance and gushing, heartfelt emotions.

Dean Wareham is an album that sees both of its key players growing in stature as it progresses; I could take or leave the first half, but the second is a delight.

There’s a sense of exhaustion in Spectre, but it’s not an exhaustion with irony and a refuge in po-faced sloganeering. Rather, Laibach dramatise the exhausted nature of a political movement that seems unable to do anything other than follow the lines laid out for it by the social order it claims to oppose, or take refuge in a vague utopianism.

The real problem with The Classic is it just can’t often enough avoid the pitfalls of mediocrity, whether pastiche grooves, lackluster songwriting, or Joan’s own vocal limitations.

You Can Do Better is still the JoFo you might know and love, and for anyone coming to it fresh it actually provides a fantastic gate-way album, with fairly obvious retro sensibilities but an energy, enthusiasm and self-confidence that keeps it feeling relevant and modern.

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.

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

Electric Balloon sees Ava Luna staying the course in producing music that is as heady, adventurous and intelligent as that of their debut, if not more so.

The Unsemble is an album that sounds like it was phoned in from a bunch of guys who clearly think they just have to turn up to the studio and the magic will flow instantly from the fingers of these master craftsmen.

They didn’t quite manage to move past The Seldom Seen Kid on Build a Rocket Boys!, but with Take Off, they’ve both cemented their place as a British institution and hinted that their best might yet be to come.

The intensely moving track ["Don’t Be Afraid"]--and the entire album itself--perfectly illustrates the idea that we all have a magnificent universe within ourselves just waiting to be discovered, and that we should never be fearful of uncovering exactly who and where we are.

When it’s not inclined to cast off into distension, Silent Treatment is robust, purposeful and precariously, hauntingly sublime.

Boy is intense, intrusive, brutally honest, compelling and mature if not ironically titled; it certainly bears nothing in common with infancy.

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.

There’s a human element to the record, missing from so many of their contemporaries’ efforts, waiting to be engaged with for those who choose to scratch beneath the surface; for everybody else, Blood Red Shoes will simply be the riotously fun sound of a band who have well and truly cast off the shackles.

There’ll be plenty of albums this year that grab you by the throat more vigorously than Atlas does, but very few of them will be quite as lovingly nuanced--and none will make the guitar sound anything like as appealing.

Amidst the sanded-corner tunes and taut, buffed percussion, the five-piece have a lot of valuable ruminations on being young and hopeless and helpless in modern Britain.

Much like its creator and artwork, it remains unidentifiable, borderline incomprehensible even, but never less than thoroughly enthralling.

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.

Working Out is a sophisticated sounding record, but with only a handful of standout tracks, it may not be enough.