Cool It Down is topical without getting too deep, and fun without overstaying its welcome, but even for a band as mercurial as YYYs, it feels a little too ephemeral.

While Romare is a master when it comes to constructing unique and unusual sounds in his music (the opening of his old single Roots for example), sometimes this can be more abrasive than enjoyable--New Love, we're looking at you. Overall though, this is a warm piece of percussive and melodic greatness.

Goodnight Summerland is musically, lyrically and thematically enrapturing. It is a record of pure beauty and elegance, brimming with beguiling melodies and dazzling progressions.

The sound is raw and grinds with edgier and harder beats, perhaps signalling a new direction for the group’s versatile beatmaker, DJ Próvaí. .... A well put-together album, thanks in part to working alongside super-producer Dan Carey.

Only occasionally does the grandeur threaten to run away from them, as on the over-blustery Pale Kings; otherwise, their form is more or less impeccable, with the swooning vocal melodies of Backchannels and the off-kilter creep of Filaments among its standout elements.

While the material is scarce, the quality is a renewable resource on par with a nuclear fusion plant. Choruses hum, drumlines bounce, and there's always enough subversion for leftovers.

Angry, acquiescent and apathetic all at once, Running Out Of Love is an ideal album for our anxious times.

It’s invigorating and profound, mapping a sonic current which traverses moments of gently unfolding beauty (The Quietest Shore) and even brassy grandiosity (particularly on the widescreen projections of Exquisite Human Microphone).

Slowdive represents an awareness of legacy, and the importance of not pissing all over it; to that extent, it’s an essential addition to canon.

Nothing about this album is ordinary and nothing can be taken for granted – least of all the artists themselves. Get Tragic is a powerful album, raw in its unflinching honesty, experimental in its lyrical and instrumental balances, and deeply moving in its frank exploration of all that Ansell and Carter have made it through to reach this point.

The vocal melodies exuded on the album are irresistible. Paired with lush instrumentation, Sink Into Me is in a word, gorgeous, and the perfect soundtrack for a meander in the sunshine or a mellow morning in bed.

Raspberry Moon brings out the best of what the Hotline TNT project can offer; it's an emo-shoegaze-indie-noise-pop melting pot that hits just right.

Human Performance might have sacrificed the band's rickety immediacy, but they compensate with wise, grass-stalk chewing authority and grubby, plentiful hooks.

Like much of Callahan’s finest work, this is an incredibly contemplative yet focused collection of songs from one of the most talented raconteurs of his generation.

Tenderly, expertly picked guitar supports the voice: Byrne doesn't so much sing as exhale and her unforced delivery serves to mesmerise.

Slocum’s lyrics give this tight 27 minutes of music a literary might beyond this band’s years.

Love What Survives offers a scattergun approach to ideas, sounds and voices, and it could be their greatest record yet. With a looser grip, Mount Kimbie dip and dive through myriad musical worlds.

With fearless approach and razor sharp delivery, Adore Life is so bruisingly intimate that it feels like a surgical hand taking grasp of your gut. When Savages speak, you listen.

Whilst their run-of-the-mill, dream-pop contemporaries experiment with a range of distortion pedals, this band continue to show that use of every crayon in the box (or, rather, every seat in the orchestra) can create a true masterpiece.

Still, the beating heart behind The Kid is the curiosity and delight that Smith brings to her meticulous electronic compositions.

Tying everything together is the mood of the whole piece--it’s a pastel kaleidoscope, summery and light on its feet throughout. But broadly, you can hive off Koenig’s songwriting predispositions into one of two categories--60s-indebted pop, and R'n'B-inflected experimentalism.

You're hearing a songwriter who seems to know exactly what she wants to make, and has all the tools to do that. A glorious, glorious album.

While it may not break entirely new ground, this album’s embrace of mordant textures and restrained warmth – weaponised on album closer and sonic bath David – cements it as consistently compelling and quietly brilliant.

Sparseness can often lend a chilliness, but Rundle’s work here can be grippingly hot and suffocating – the feeling of air being sucked out of a room – as she recalls past traumas.

Things start promisingly on opener Special, with the equally rip-roaring Fantasy shortly after. The problems emerge in the album's latter half, starting from the latest single Tonight, which feels sadly very safe and leads to songs that wouldn't feel out of place on an early 2000s generic pop-punk album.

This album seeks to ask questions, to entertain and to create. While the destination may be nebulous, Deerhunter know that the enjoyment lies within the journey. The slow, crumbling decline of civilisation has rarely sounded so good.

With a multi-layered narrative, Levy sings between abstract and Auto-Tuned clippings of her purchasing a dove, and in this proves the success of her experimentalist artistry. By welcoming the world into her record, Alexandra Levy has created something much more whole and warm than perhaps it might have been.

Viagra Boys are still copping from the William S. Burroughs playbook when it comes to surrealism and degenerates, but there's a confidence and heft throughout Cave World that keeps it sounding fresh.