On paper Milano should be a mess, but it's a resounding triumph. Luppi has crafted a fast-paced and fashionable record which taps into the lifeblood of his beloved Milan; seductive, hedonistic and super stylish.

Unsurprisingly, there’s an overarching sense of melancholy, but the more you listen, the more you realise that she’s deftly poetic with her words in a way that’s clearly inspired by some of the great writers of the 20th Century.

Extensive, charming and compelling--Savage Young Dü is one of the best archival compilations of the year.

She sticks to familiarity and abides heavily to it--something worth noting, but while the album battles to make its way, her efforts aren’t entirely lost.

Whilst The Thrill of it All isn’t a complete departure from the artist we all know and love, it is clear that Smith is in a new phase of his career and is encompassing what it means to be a ‘soul’ singer.

The 25th anniversary reissue offers a disc of live tracks, and a full set of demos and early versions--interesting historical documents for the completest. But the real joy of the reissue is how it prompts those of us who have moulded ourselves around it, or had it play for years almost subconsciously in the distance, to reconsider its place in our lives: to hold it up to the light and see that it is miraculous.

Stranger, is a fully formed welcome to the staying power of Lean, and this third chapter is unlike anything he’s done before, while simultaneously being everything he’s done before.

Here we have him boldly stating his desires, aligning himself with our baser nature. Whether this is a sign of a lack of subtlety or a brave forward step is, of course, up for debate but that clash of the brutal and the human, the savage and the sensual is certainly compelling.

There’s nary a misstep to note here. Schreifels, drummer Alan Cage, bassist Sergio Vega and guitarist Tom Capone resist taking a victory lap and come out ahead, still sounding like themselves.

Each of his records could have come from any year from the past twenty five, to the next twenty five. There is the sound of now, the sound of then, and the sound of Dave Clarke.

Simultaneously more overtly experimental yet more easily accessible - even the most cacophonous warble here is rooted in strong melodies--than Holden's past output, The Animal Spirits is a triumph that makes rigidly electronic textures seem so last year.

You’ve not heard William Patrick Corgan this way before--and if you just let Ogilala do its thing you’ll find a completely pleasant journey that will envelop you happily.

With Phantom Brickworks Bibio has not only created a record that stands apart from his other Warp albums to date, but has cemented his mastery of the atmospheric; creating an album that can imprint on a listeners’ surroundings like few others.

Shamir represents what it is to be an outsider, with each of Revelation’s nine tracks teaching us to face our insecurities and embrace our weirdness. Even in the darkest times, Shamir’s brilliance continues to shine through

It’s a treat to hear all these iconic and sometimes underrated themes again, even going so far as to cover Ennio Morricone’s ominous theme for The Thing and Jack Nitzsche’s grand, celestial Starman theme.

7 Nights is a strong R&B album, but it just doesn’t have the same impact of 7 Days. Each track seamlessly blends into the next, making it a listen that can easily pass you by if left to its own devices.

7 Days takes care of business, providing 11 tracks of club-ready beats, guaranteed to get any crowd hyped.

The Dusk in Us continues to show the depth that Converge can hold below the abrasive sounds. They don’t create chunks of music to be instantly digested, they create art which is meant to take you prisoner in a darkness that will ultimately show you more than you ever realised.

Punk Drunk and Trembling is an EP that displays the best of their later sound and leaves you wanting more.

The New Monday would be a great record to put on whilst cruising around Detroit in the dead of night, the only thing holding back this album is that Shigeto sometimes takes his hands off the wheel.

This album is yet further proof that John Maus has no boundaries and relishes unearthing new patterns, sequences and progressions. He’s in his element when creating music quite unlike anything else.

Ewald’s writing is comprised of a number of observations that often appear fairly minor, collated into something that is at times quite evocative. There are moments however where it feels more uncoordinated, less refined, and unfortunately it is these points that prevent the record becoming the disarming gem it promises at times to be.

If you can let Pacific Daydream completely envelope you; throw you to the beach that instigated the album, then you’ll find sheer happiness here. If, however, you go in with any expectations of than that, you might find things a bit more difficult.

When you hear it, you can tell that these songs were bursting to get out of Ware; that she’s delivered them with such nuance and intelligence lends considerable credence to the idea that her more devoted followers have proposed ever since Devotion. She is, by a distance, Britain’s most underrated pop star.

It’s so cohesive in its theme that it can become overwhelming.

The album is a little verbose in places as Okereke delights and demeans in equal measure past loves and lovers.

Perhaps the wildly-inventive producer isn’t inspired to break the mould, or to look for a new direction, but he is a producer sure to contrast this low with a high next time. It’s alright as it is, this record, but no more than that.

The Australian duo's first full-length feels whole and complete, and with a distinctive sound.