There are curve balls--Rise sounds like The Lighthouse Family (!); Leatherette like an outtake from Madonna's Ray of Light--but this is business as usual for Gilmore: great lyrics, good melodies and production chasing today's radio. But you can't help feeling there’s still a great album to come from her.

This is a band on a journey. Modern English Decoration nods to its predecessor, certainly, but you can hear the way in which the original duo has consolidated their appeal as a five-piece. These guys have got promise written all over them.

For a record so brief, its ability to evoke scale--while still carrying the distinctive sound of the band that surprised us all with An Awesome Wave back in 2012--is testament to Alt-J’s demonstrable talents as artists.

Somersault takes a bolder leap forward, taking tropes and palettes from 60s pop, grunge, and even country, and making bold play with strings and horns, piano and harpsichord, surprising effects, freer guitar and more assertive bass.

This release marks a new sense of sincerity and authenticity for the band and the thematic issues which the lyrics raise are vocalised in a wonderfully relatable manner, free of any flounce or artifice. However, without humour the album feels a bit flat and even overly morose.

The band rarely deviate from their thematic nexus, which helps to tie the album together as it sprawls over nineteen tracks. As they move closer to the middle ground, Saint Etienne are far from re-inventing the wheel, but in writing delectable pop hooks about a place as decidely uncool as the home counties, that was never really the point.

Not abandoning her folk roots entirely, I’m Not Your Man proves an emotional and sonic progression for Hackman, a record that at its best is affecting and fun.

The album’s nitid production weighs down heavily, so much so it induces a fair few flinching moments.

Over the course of sixteen tracks here, we get a glimpse of both the glorious past and promising future of the Bandits.

The LP manages to consistently surprise and entertain for its entire running time, just two minutes shy of two hours. ... Bob's Burgers' unique music provides an offbeat, aural soundscape to its narrative and allows for characters to express themselves.

Frontwoman (and visual artist) Isabel Munoz-Newsome steals the show with her haunted-chanteuse vocals, generally floating and ephemeral, but always powerful. The arrangements complement and flesh out her tales of love, sex and identity.

After a long time away, Do Make Say Think are still able to captivate as much as ever.

These two tracks [This Time and Loving] crest an emotional peak that isn’t quite matched elsewhere.

They are perfect encapsulations of the snarky, fuck-you attitude that has been suppressed in the last couple of Wavves releases, but they don't have the scrappy, lo-fi charm that endeared fans to the band seven or eight years ago.

Ardently absorb all that there is to feel in this LP, and expect its lullaby-like melodies to draw from you that which is so deeply buried you don’t even know it exists.

The Penguins’ music always defied easy definition and Arthur’s determination to keep the band’s trademark sound keep careering its way from traditional folk and pop styles to minimalism and South American music is admirable in the extreme. What’s even better is that the music is now matching the sentiment.

This is intelligent party music, but it’s also headphone listening. Production is manic and plays at an attention deficit (though really these songs are crafted with a mandala-concentration, rich in samples, styles, and sonic layering).

Where Ugly Cherries felt spontaneous and carefree, Pageant feels more mature and considered.

Compassion may not feel complete yet, but it’s an exciting portent of what may yet come.

It’s a bold, considered whole; it's rich in theatrical texture and ambient psychedelia, but it’s not an easy listen. Often deliberately discordant, it won’t be to everyone’s tastes, certainly not to fans of Palmer’s poppier work.

Hazier, more hypnotic, and like most sequels--yeah--not as effective, it’s hamstrung by an uncharacteristically grating synth refrain. While not bad, it’s hard to shake the feeling of déjà vu.

No Shape steps out as Hadreas’ brightest and most lavish record to date but, as in all the best fairy tales, it’s haunted by as many ghosts as it is populated by princes.

The Weather is Pond at their most daring--and most sardonic.

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.

In Spades is all Whigs. Dulli has never sounded better. If you ever loved the Whigs you will love this.

This is actually a great record, because Black Lips are the sort of band that can pull off preening and rambunctious in the same album (sometimes even in the same song).

Like a Russian doll which opens to reveal evermore intimate and foetal musings on communication, self-awareness and comfort, this debut album has, at its core, that which sits on its surface: raw, honest emotion. It wears its heart on its sleeve.

The risk of taking that deliberately vintage tack is contrivance, and though this album tows the line occasionally, it never disappears into itself.