It's a mind-bending metal album that casts the gaze of its extraterrestrial eye towards an unknown galaxy far away.

Nothing is a stark record, and I imagine not one that will be ringing out of club PAs on a regular basis. Instead, it joins the impressively swelling ranks of dance/techno/electro/house albums that reflect the inner workings of the individuals creating them.

For some Communion will be too discordant, too warlike, too brutal to their sensibilities, a direct threat to their notions of what is "beautiful" in their world. But the chrome plated harshness of Rabit's music brings out a different form of joy, a pleasure that comes from catharsis, frustration, and alienation.

Clearly, this is the sound of an artist having fun, but one who avoids the trappings of self-indulgence.

The Agent Intellect probably isn't a record to be throwing on every evening after (or indeed without) work. Distilling the sheer fallibility of the human condition across twelve insistent tracks, each full listen feels like an investment in the slow-burning revelation of some bigger picture, delivered with the ardent persuasion of a band fully able to defend wasting no time in capturing the magic.

All-in-all, Janet has made an album that is sophisticated and personal, but carrying that trademark carefree, freewheeling atmosphere that makes her so wonderful.

Central Belters then, works more as another addition to Mogwai's own unique literary cannon, formed of vast soundscapes, titanic chord sequences and loud-mouthed abandon that locks together the foundations of their power.

With Everybody Come To Church, Evil Blizzard have fused anger with commentary, psychedelia with post-punk influences and have created something that's wholly their own. The ceremony is about to begin and you'd do well to join this congregation.

As If contains more dizzying peaks and valleys than a Zorb ride through Derbyshire (and leaves you twice as exhausted). Possibly the most fun you'll ever have once before throwing in the towel and doing something valuable with your life.

1000 Days is even more assured, and it often veers into being overproduced and losing that essential 1970s DIY role-playing game spirit.

f(x) is a record, sure, released on vinyl, digital and compact disc, but it's also a mantra, an inspiration, a bold and pure statement.

Science Fiction Dancehall Classics, with its blend of revamped urban dub and bizarre cybernetic aesthetics, proves the most suitable companion primer to Sherwood's own 2015 selective compilation, Sherwood At The Controls, Vol. 1: 1979-1984.

With Half Free, Remy has made a brilliant, accessible, edgy pop record without compromising her ideals one iota--and hopefully has surreptitiously brought her into a wider light.

Rub is an album of well-sheened extremes.

Each of the tracks on The Loud Silence pointedly, yet effortlessly, foregrounds the folk-y marranzano within the otherwise calm, techno-centric sonic context that Dozzy has outlined notably on Plays Bee Mask and with his group Voices From The Lake.

It's fair to say with such as varied collection of sounds from disparate sources, µ20 doesn't make it easy on the listener. After spending two hours of being buffeted by a dizzying array of beats and sound textures, listening to the third CD, with its wilful experimentalism, was almost too much on the first listen.

In its 58 minutes length, Grey Tickles, Black Pressure notches up fourteen masterful tracks with no down-swing, enchanting the listener until the very last words, "love never fails".

Forty-two minutes of profound pleasure all in all, which both challenges the clichés of guitar-based heaviness and mines them for their ore.

Del Rey plays a winning strike with Honeymoon's four opening songs: powerful ballads, lain on ethereal and soft arrangements made of smooth strings and jazzy winds.... If 'High By The Beach' still can sustain its four-minutes length, the same unfortunately cannot be said for the most of the following songs.

The artists on C-ORE complement one another in that they share a certain darkness and an interest in digital experimentation, but their voices and methods are distinct, ensuring the album is defiantly unpredictable.

Elegance and delicacy seem to be the intended effect, as well as intelligence, both innate and hard-won with time.

Whilst bands like Tame Impala made a quick buck imitating aspects of Dungen's sound, Allas Sak shows that Gustave Ejstes will continue to perfect and update his craft.

Wald nods towards electronic Kosmische music of bygone years while simultaneously reflecting and commenting upon Betke's own back catalogue.

It really does speak volumes about the groundswell of depth in his writing that a record with stakes this high don't feel like a step out of character, but rather a continuing stride through a storm.

The Frenchman leaves enough space for everything to live harmoniously together. Melodies and countermelodies run free, but nothing ever feels overblown or unnecessary.

It's not that the depth isn't there, it's just that the experience is multidimensional enough to bring forth a flatness; a sense of unity which discards dimensions.

Two or three more long jams in a double harmonic scale would have worked just fine. But the lack of closure, like the lack of polish, is entirely characteristic of this release, which to be honest is less of an 'album' than a longish EP.

These are cranky, abstracted journeys through texture, noise and rhythm with howling, gibbering singer Dara Kiely as our unreliable spirit guide. At their best, Girl Band manage to locate a sweet spot between chaos and precision, poise and frenzy, hysteria and logic.