There are so many layers to get lost in, and over time Stains on Silence reveals itself to be a gorgeously wrought piece of modern post-punk and synth-pop.

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.

Wildly inconsistent album.

Hope Downs is as good a reminder as any that life’s a blast. Head to the beach, you’ve found the soundtrack.

It’s a New Day Tonight is a highly polished vehicle that demands to be driven at twilight with the roof down, allowing for its passengers to drift off to the engine’s dulcet purr and the wind’s gentle caress.

Similar to The Highland Mob, it utilises a number of classic grime tropes--eski clicks (Kontinuance); 8-bit homages (Evil Spirits); Dizzee Rascal-sampling sino throwbacks (A Like Ye)--but repackages them in a way that brings introspection to the fore.

The best indie rock songs can often lean on the shorter side, giving in to the sugar rush of instantly memorable riffs. But Jordan has no qualms about letting her songs draw out, as they do on Lush. That’s because she always has something important to say and it’s worth listening.

It's actually not a terrible record, really, but it's frustratingly complacent after two outstanding albums.

Unlike He’s Got the Whole...--and indeed much of the Joan of Arc discography--it’s a stylistically cohesive effort too, primarily consisting of Ausikaitis delivering lilting, honeyed to the point of saccharine vocals over undulating, ambient backdrops.

It’s a richly realised record and one that is as powerful a statement in support of Case’s measured musical expertise as it is her long-established prowess as a lyric writer.

This record isn't exactly a "pleasurable" experience, and its relatively brief half-an-hour run-time may seem like a relief, but it actually somewhat undermines the tension in its brevity.

God's Favorite Customer showcases Tillman at his most levelled: sly-tongued and biting, emotional and soulful, articulating life's most complex feelings in a way we can all understand.

It's the wealth of exquisitely baroque moments, exploring history as a pliable, multi-dimensional rift, that makes Age Of Lopatin's most ambitious album yet. There is exceptional sonic depth, and those who were confounded by his dive into industrial alternative on Garden of Delete will notice a bewildering continuity.

Universalists is an extension and expansion of his solo debut, an evolution as simultaneously radical and just-right as any of the changes he’s known for improvising live.

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.

The result is a sparkling pop effort, with Campbell bringing copious quantities of the old Obscura glitz to the likes of the swooningly romantic It Can’t Be Love Unless It Hurts, the jazzy Home & Dry and, most poignantly, to the undiluted Americana of Alabama, a direct tribute to Lander.

These eight tracks are so deliberate and self-contained that you almost wish for something to puncture their protective casing, for Burns to let her agile voice soar. But Argonauta is an album still forming questions, giving no answers.

Her talents won’t be a surprise to anyone familiar with her band, but laid bare like this, her imagination is startling and singular.

Love Is Dead shows CHVRCHES attaining a greater urgency and darkness in tracks such as the dramatic, M83-esque Deliverance and My Enemy, a stuttering, drugged up duet between Mayberry and The National’s Matt Berninger.

It wouldn't be a recommended entry point for Beach Slang, but the chances are you'd find one or two songs here palatable enough to seek out more. If you're a Replacements fan you'll either think this fills the Westerberg-shaped hole in your life or you'll tear your hair out and curse at just how audaciously similar some of these songs are. Still, whatever side of the fence you might sit on, it's probably worth a listen to find out.

One of the album's greatest strengths is how it incorporates these experimental choices into something very musical, although that does mean you do occasionally miss what's below the surface on first listen. Different things rise to the top the more time you invest in the record, so if it's not clicking with you immediately, trust that it eventually will.

What sparkles most about this new album is the comfort you feel when Malkmus and his band do exactly what you expect.

In its 13 tracks and just shy of 40 minutes, Wide Awake! shows perhaps the band's broadest emotional range to date with a healthy dollop of anger on display (see Violence or Before the Water Gets Too High).

Despite the gentle forays into new styles, the universally relatable stories are still well and present, with enough morbid humour, intricately drawn character studies and down-to-earth wisdom to keep you coming back again and again.

He shares the ennui, dissociation, irony and unfulfillment of his particular celebrity destiny, coupled with a biting and original take on a more widely shared quotidian anxiety that listeners will note with nods and laughs and hums of recognition. But a hit or two would have been nice.

Eray’s opening haze burns out to reveal stark, staccato drums, an urgent, discordant Juno lead and almost Orbital-esque bassline, providing a fine touchpoint for Blue Hour and Earth and Elsewhere’s tech-purist soundscapes: think Aphex Twin’s Ambient Works II. They're a fine addition, though an indulgence amid an album of otherwise brilliance.

An elevated level of bravado is present from the outset on La Luz’s third album, Floating Features.

It’s a creative, energised exploration of the power of both the human voice and electronic music to move us.