Despite the seriousness of the lyrics, I can feel you creep into my private life manages to remain an uplifting album, with a collection of intricately-crafted pop songs that tackle a range of important current issues.

Parton’s eclectic tastes remain the beating heart of The Go! Team, but in producing a record genuinely representative of the band’s boisterous live shows, he sounds more revitalised than ever.

The House is an album of rare balance and beauty, managing to evoke hefty emotions and ideas while still feeling slight and ephemeral, never forgetting that this could all slip through your fingers at any moment.

Lex is inspired by lofty philosophical goals, on attempts to 'communicate a world distant enough that it can't be captured or comprehended in the present.' On this front Lex is undoubtedly successful, sounding consistently otherworldly, but still retaining enough humanity to make it effective.

Their problem is there are other bands doing this kind of thing better (Black Angels, we’re looking at you).

All up, it’s an energetic, accomplished debut from a group of highly-seasoned musicians, making Flat Worms an emerging outfit with a fuck-tonne of punked-up potential.

Badu collects good work, but the second half of the collection trails off; the whole doesn’t stand up to sustained listening without herbal aids (which, to her credit, Badu recommends).

You Might Be Smiling Now... is lyrically smart, funny, and terrifyingly relatable.

The true standout of the EP is Fickle Season. ... The other three tracks are inoffensive but somewhat forgettable

Dark Eyed Messenger explores themes of love, loss, nature and memory with the sort of understated evocativeness Crowley has made his own.

While Reflection of Youth doesn’t always capture the more brutal side of growing up sonically, Bruland does give off the sense that she’s come out of the other side, older and wiser.

The overall bleed from one to the next, the movement of the narrative, is what makes this such a brilliant piece of work.

By committing to one idea Maus has found a focal point around which to craft his own musical identity.

Utilising ideas of breath, space and breeze to thrilling effect, this is Björk at her most reflective and inquisitive. There are no clear cut 'hits' as such, and the album clearly begs to be enjoyed as a whole entity rather than have its innards plucked and picked at. However, if given your full attention, it will transport you to paradise.

It’s all reassuringly consistent and distinctively Baths, managing to be both personal and kinetic as well as fantastical and otherworldly. He may not have switched up his style between albums, but now with this hat-trick of gems, there’s no need.

Morrissey can alienate fans with outlandish outbursts or with decidedly average new music, but both at the same time is surely too much for even the most forgiving fan.

It’s a chaotic, wonderfully soundtracked journey from one of the best underground musical collectives to come out of Glasgow.

While an intriguing return to Dwyer's roots and to Dawson's charming voice, Memory of a Cut Off Head is a typically strange experience from OCS and one which might not translate to newer fans of the band looking for their trademark psyche-punk sound.

The constant changes in tone that come with such disparate collaborators mean that the album never settles into a comfortable groove the way 5:55 or IRM did.

The beats are the only thing going anywhere on Stranger, while the vocals seem as drunk and rambling as ever, devoid of memorable similes or even coherent subject matter.

The quintet may wear their influences on their sleeve, and pretty broadly at times, but there is such a fascinating range of them for such a young band that Permo can only be seen as a success, both as a record but also within a long line of great Glasgow bands.

Kid Kruschev sees Sleigh Bells strike a delicate balance, branching into new creative waters whilst staying true to the musical formula which first garnered them attention.

All in all, this is a welcome return for Dave Clarke and an album declaring his rightful place at the helm of electronica.

The previously released singles on 1992 Deluxe, Brujas, Tomboy, and Kitana, are still as urgent and energetic as when they first gatecrashed YouTube. The bulk of the album, however, displays a versatility that appears directionless but is nevertheless entertaining and engaging.

With Red Pill Blues Levine and co have managed to produce an album that is uninteresting and unexciting; at best this is background music, to be listened to on very, very low volume, or even better, not at all.

Endlessly innovative--check the skittering, robotic violin on Red Trails, played by Sara Parkman--Plunge befits the return of an iconic creative voice. Dreijer’s politics are written on her body, and she’s asking you to dive in. You won’t need telling twice.

While it may be far slimmer than Ratchet musically, Revelations fills that gap with earnest, heartfelt emotion.

ASIWYFA haven’t reinvented the wheel with this album, but it’s a worthy addition to an increasingly accomplished body of work.