Amok might not be easy--why should it be?--but it’s never anything less than interesting, an accolade that can rarely be applied to artists this far into their career.

This is a hugely charismatic debut that, above everything else, is just very good fun.

Thumbtacks and Glue is no less nuanced or nourishing, and every song is satisfying. Undulating orchestration, the lift and swell, matches Mark Andrew Hamilton’s eccentric lyrical slant and seraphic singing to produce immaculate and endearing music.

Ed Harcourt too seems to be dealing with a few demons of his own on Back Into The Woods, but this collection of world-weary songs also beats with a poetic heart of longing.

With just a mere 26 minutes forming its contents, you’re left wanting to know more. On the other hand, it’s the short, creative simplicity of The Bunkhouse Vol. I: Anchor Black Tattoo that makes it so special.

There’s a tightness and economy to the sound that makes the album sound excitingly different.

A couple of less than diverting songs aside, this is an album that won’t be forgotten in a hurry whichever way you look at it.

Moody. Loveless. One-paced. Monotonous. Dull.

While it manifests in a way that’s less playful than on her debut, it’s replaced by a gravitas that befits a sophomore record.

It can be powerfully sweet, but it’s never twee. It’s often busy, but never cluttered. Flowers is, put simply, a beautiful album.

Country Sleep is a convincing opening from a songwriter worth paying attention to.

[A] frustratingly muted but nevertheless enthralling follow-up.

When it’s not a really scary record, it’s a really fun one, and most of the time, it’s both.

The Concrete Knives will be a nice addition to the Bella Union family as they fit right in by not fitting in, instead, carving their own path while instructing us to do the same: Be Your Own King.

This joyful little geode of an album--a 38-minute pocket of melodies that cluster, sparkle, and spike--has a powerfully anti-cynical energy to it,

The result is an intelligent and thrilling collection of existential punk-rock that has so much more to offer than those two paltry words, “punk” or “rock” could ever suggest.

Though it tails off, it starts wonderfully, and how much you enjoy No World’s second half will entirely depend on whether you thought the successes of its first were so great that they were worth repeating within the following 20 minutes.

A warm-hearted lover of an album that is hard to pin down but acquiesces to exploration and will, in a fairly filthy way, leave the listener sated, satisfied and inspired.

Experimental yet built on superb songwriting, fresh and surprising but still somehow recognisably a Bad Seeds record, the amount of innovation and inspiration found on Push The Sky Away proves that Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds must still care an awful lot about this rock ‘n’ roll stuff.

He’s woven a stunning debut which is as scattershot as it is coherent, and his homeland is certainly right to be heralding him as the next big thing.

The sounds are pure alchemy and result is pure magic. The only complaint is the length--too short at just under a half hour.

Picking standout moments is as difficult as finding instances where the record’s charm wears off--there’s not a stage where the latter ever happens, but such is Beach Fossils’ way of doing things there are never really any huge lifts in quality either.

Homosapien is a good album with great moments.

Reason to Believe serves as an ideal introduction to its subject’s works for newcomers, whilst sending converts back to revisit the timeless originals.

Fade is vintage Yo La Tengo, but somehow gorgeously grown-up, with moments which your head will tell you sound normal, as if you have heard them before, but which make the rest of you feel contemplative and still.

This is a great record. Talk Normal are clearly indebted to the foundations of post-punk and no wave, but crucially they never feel like a throwback.

Its gentle musical cacophony is tipped over into truly scary territory by the lyrics of sole constant member David Thomas--all delivered in murderous mumbles and frustrated, elongated moans--transforming Lady From Shanghai from a run of the mill quirky rock album into a thrillingly worrying piece of art.

Everything Everything have their cake and they’re eating it too--Arc proves that they can keep their zany shade of indie and still be taken very seriously.