2013 is as much an adventure story, autobiography, romantic poem and a classical opus as it is a pop record. But what makes it so convincing comes down to Jones’s passion. Every note of the record convinces you that the Welshman believes 100% that he’s on the right path.

It’s unassuming and introverted, an odd mix of murk and clarity which proves to be ever more intriguing with each listen.

The real moments of surprise come when the band strip things back and sound heavier than ever.

Yes, notes and chords are fun and all, but these songs are precisely-controlled messes, and beautifully so. Simply put, Heron Oblivion is a guitar-centric record for those who thought Marquee Moon was too linear.

His perfectionism has done him proud, as Telluric is a masterful glimpse into the mind of a man who has much to say, and who says it beautifully.

[The] big pop moments are the most thrilling, moreish moments on All My Demons but there are quieter moments where AURORA also excels.

Despite her enormous talent, Know-It-All can feel a little rushed. Fair play to want to capitalise on momentum, but artistically it would have been interesting to hear what could have been achieved with a little more time spent finding Cara's own sound, rather than mixing so many in to ten tracks.

While there are some moments of genuinely engaging songwriting early on, halfway through the mix of styles and genres becomes confusing and incoherent, making it feel incomplete.

In another step away from her new-folk singer-songwriter roots, Emmy The Great has delivered with a well-considered venture into a wider, colder, dystopian world.

Though it may have lost some of the urgency of their debut, Before a Million Universes has allowed the band to develop a level of genuine introspection rarely seen in the hardcore of today.

Even the songs with more conventional structure feature an attention to detail and craftsmanship that is clearly rare.

It’s a record as much about falling apart as it is putting yourself back together and undoubtedly one of the debuts of the year so far.

MITM is an album with depth, and will please both hardcore grime-heads and casual fans. You’d have to be mad in the manor not to love it.

Ultimately, untitled unmastered isn’t TPAB, and anyone expecting something of similar cultural impact is only depriving themselves of one of the year’s early musical gems.

Convenanza naturally operates best when Weatherall stays away from the mic.

Long Way Home is a vindication of all that time spent slowly learning her craft and doing almost everything herself. As a result, she has finally delivered what all those early tracks promised; a bedroom record conceived in the club that drags confessional pop music further into the future.

The misfires on iii are few, and this is a record that deserves spins not only from Miike Snow diehards, but also those who believe the group may not be their cup of tea.

Her conceptual sounds don’t offer blatant, fist pumping anthems for movements like Occupy and Black Lives Matter, instead they seem to capture the still, quiet tension that echoes around that space between the battle lines and point to the psychological fear on both sides.

It could easily have fallen apart under the weight of the assembled egos, its car crash of dramatic themes or even just been doomed by the epic centrepiece of the album--the10-minute "Faustus"--but it doesn’t. The album works. And I daresay, it’s a damn sight more successful take on life, war, death and re-birth than Einsturzende Neubauten’s First World War-inspired album Lament.

On his eighth solo studio album, More Rain, Ward once again taps into the familiar echoes of musical history, crafting a breezy, uptempo collection of tracks that show off his songwriting talents as well as his wide array of influences.

It all makes for a pretty giant leap forward, with the weighty, emotional subject punctured by a Willy Wonka factory of discombobulated guitar pop that has the tUnE-yArDs’ finger print all over it.

It would be wrong to compare this with something like the ineffable Slates, given the group’s perennially shifting trajectory, but that EP has an enduring, remarkable consistency that’s all-too-often missed.

Through a well suited use of room mics, live tracking and the odd vocal take from Gano’s demos making the cut, Jeff Hamilton and the band have successfully fuelled We Can Do Anything with the scruffy-but-vibrant spontaneity that made all their earlier records the much loved works they are.

Music For Listening To Music To is a record that sounds simultaneously old-fashioned and modern, a delightful reminder of ‘that’s how it used to be done’ but ultimately a modern country album charged with electric guitars, a love of jangle and a showcase of Goodman’s glorious singing. But most importantly, it’s a gorgeous collection of timeless songs.

It's simply stunning.

This is not a record for quick thrills, or for sombre introspection; it is an album that creates a rich, layered sonic space, in which it invites its audience to lose themselves awhile.

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.

Distance Inbetween may not be the renaissance one would have hoped for and is a much more straightforward record than expected but there’s enough here to suggest their next record will be worth listening to.