Ruminations isn’t going to blow anyone away--it’s in the title--but it is a quiet addition to his substantial body of work and this thoughtful set of acoustic songs will certainly keep us warm as winter sets in.

Vive la Void can be intriguing and enveloping if given the time and space to truly immerse yourself in it, but otherwise might leave only a fleeting impression.

Guitar is undoubtedly a pleasant listen and a fine addition to the DeMarco canon, if unlikely to go down as a classic.

Bayonne twists and folds thousands of layers and loops, utilising the echoes of old pianos and draining sinks to add some earth to his technical wizardry.

With a tracklist as tight as Tape Recorder, moments of indulgence are hard to stomach. When a song comes together, though, Lionlimb give their inspirations a run for their money.

Some tracks do repeat the same tricks or perhaps linger a little too long, yet Myself in the Way, while not one to excite fans of the old Turnover, builds upon the simplicity of Altogether to produce an alt-disco record full of intrigue.

While this is an exciting new style for the band, the album could have benefited from more of the stripped-back moments that we hear in the likes of America. In the opening and closing songs of the album, we’re reminded why Courting are such a captivating band but New Last Name, while fun and energetic, sadly fails to match the impact and charm of their debut.

At times, however, Violence is uninspiring; it lacks consistency on the whole, but their ferocious new direction results in Editors sounding the best they have in years. And when they get it right, such as on lead single Magazine, they're up there with the best.

Cigarettes After Sex ends up overstaying its welcome. Most of the tracks retain the same languid pace, drifting through slowly like smoke lingering in the air.

The problem is that beyond the singles which dominate True Entertainment’s Side A, the band seem at a bit of a loss as to what to do with their newfound dancefloor credentials. The second half of the record rests on an at-times plodding and repetitive rhythm section, without enough excitement in the melody to buoy it up.

Its fuzzy, dream-like patterns and navel-gazing can be hard to interpret, but there is a certain honesty and integrity that underpins the album.

Too often the album feels like a case of enacting genres rather than letting their influence seep in. It leaves the record feeling like a grab bag of ideas, some of which have been polished to brilliance, others of which haven’t been fully realised. There’s clearly a great album in there, just one that never quite gets the momentum to show itself.

Despite tracks expressing feelings of complicated relationship, the Royel Otis signature feel-good indie sound remains beautifully uncomplicated.

Barrett has moved away from the big city, but small-town living has inspired his most accessible work to date.

It’s uneven, certainly, but worth panning for the gold.

While half of the tracks here would make for decent singles, the hodgepodge of styles ultimately results in an unbalanced and disjointed album.

The record feels like someone truly in control of their craft, to the extent that it begins to suffer from this a touch, all of its edges honed too perfectly, too considered to leave any sense of spontaneity, even if it is often beautifully done.

Witty, odd and carefully drawn, Woolhouse nails whimsy without once hitting twee.

It’s not perfect; a couple of the album’s feature spots from the likes of D.R.A.M. and Stefflon Don feel a little crowbarred-in, there's less of the punchiness that characterised the duo's early work, and the lounge-funk interlude of Right Back Home To You goes on for at least a minute too long. But when the pieces fall into place there aren’t many bands that exude this much ridiculous, filthy, party-starting energy.

Ride’s legacy is set in stone, but, in the end, most of This Is Not a Safe Place is not as wildly contentious in its desire to be different. After a strong start, more of that risk would have been welcome.

When it aims for the ecstatic it works well, but it doesn’t colour its muted periods with anything like the precision, the uneasy vistas it is aiming for never quite forming.

Quit the Curse is a mature, confident debut.

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.

The album's arrangements are uniformly beautiful, coddling Staples' vocals at all times, though sometimes to the point of being overly cloying.

One for the wee small hours, Empire Builder is made of stronger stuff than its delicate nature would have you believe.

Arab Strap’s first studio album together since 2005’s The Last Romance is marked by a feeling of not quite-ness; everything’s there but it just doesn’t quite click into its potential at many points. A good half of the record treads in similar ground to opener and comeback single The Turning of Our Bones; drum machines, faintly angular guitar arpeggios and Moffat’s largely spoken dissection of middle age.

On the Land Blues is especially reminiscent of the latter’s Blue Ridge Mountains, but lacks their pathos and grandeur. Otherwise, there’s plenty else for the ears to feast on.

Stepping away from the core sound of their debut was a bold move from Girl Ray; they don’t always quite pull the change off but, when they do, Girl can be a charismatic record.