Give Utopia Defeated time, and the alien logic that binds this outstanding record begins to unfurl and initial skepticism turns to sheer awe.

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.

A Corpse Wired For Sound meanders a little too much at times, with every track stretching beyond the four minute mark, but overall it feels a successful rebirth which won't fail to engage live audiences.

Phantogram's fix and mend methods, and above average song craft, are admirable and compelling. An unexpected treat.

Distinctive and likely divisive, some spots showcase the most original beat-work you'll hear this year.

We’ve seen more than enough spark between the two on previous efforts to know that there’s a future for them; it’s just a shame they chose to rail against their best instincts this time round.

Suffocating, stressful, and challenging, Splendor & Misery is uncompromising in its desolation, and it’s all the better for it.

Even at the midpoint meltdown of Pain’s insistent fuzz-mangling, it's all sumptuously glazed with a thick veneer of moreish melody and buzzing hooks.

The album freewheels through soundscapes borrowed from pop, trap, balearic house and old-fashioned balladry with irrepressible joy.

Heads Up will still please some fans, and the band will be able to work some of these tracks into respectable live numbers; they’ll even win new listeners. The problem for devotees of the band’s earlier work, and for anyone who’s seen them live, is that they’ll cherish the memory of what Warpaint could (and probably still can) do.

This is an album that’s been made with care and intelligence. The results are compelling.

There’s not enough adventure to make this truly feel like Pixies; it lacks the sense that the wheels might come off any minute. Lenchantin, for her part, holds her own, especially on All I Think About Now, but her new colleagues need to rediscover the urgency and ambition that defined their best work if they’re ever going to match it.

Hval’s most personal record, Blood Bitch is an understated but intriguing album by a perpetually fascinating artist.

Skeleton Tree might be, to flip the phrase, a mile deep and an inch wide. The lyrics are often beautiful, and when he can be concrete, Cave conjures unforgettable, living images.

There is probably a message buried somewhere within Femejism, but unfortunately it just comes across as lacklustre and contrived.

It doesn’t present cookie-cutter visions of fear and insecurity to observe from afar; it crawls under your skin and drags them out to you--whether you want it to or not.

Blanco has always fallen slightly short in lyrical content and, although there are hints of depth and melancholy, on tracks like High School Never Ends and You Don’t Know Me, Mykki never quite goes deep enough.

More importantly, though, it’s a different one; another good record in an outstanding discography and hard proof that a goodbye from Teenage Fanclub at this stage would be woefully premature.

Across the 20 songs there's a wobbly unevenness, fairly split between unlistenable horribleness like Secretary (imagine Gedge wailing “I only get through to your secretary” over and over, and be grateful we’ve saved you from hearing it) and taut US hardcore influenced indie rock like Fordland and Broken Bow.

It's the kind of record that needs to be approached in increments, but the rewards reveal themselves when given the patience and time that Callus deserves.

Soulful, impeccable production shines on every heartbreak and highlight.

In some ways, My Woman is the love song reimagined: a fearless and accomplished work whose deep-seated humanism is a stirring reminder that falling in love is for idiots, and that we should put our faith in any artist who might just convince us otherwise.

How to Be a Human Being is arguably yet more effervescent than its predecessor.

A soulful and bewitching brew, and a superlative demonstration of how to prod at your aesthetic without selling your soul.

A lingering suspicion remains that there’s little that’s new or groundbreaking to the bouncy vigour encountered on tracks such as Severed Estates or A Change in Course; even the blissed-out motorcade of highlight Fugue States fails to have all its sirens sounding.

Hannigan's oeuvre requires patience and focus, and while much of this new collection is dependent on tone and texture to connect, eventually deeper qualties shine through.

ODAOTWMA will do little to challenge the Sheffield band's twee reputation, but the record crosses genres with far greater experimentation than they're known for.

All in all a gracious record, and one that grows on the listener.