The results flit capriciously and deliciously through tones and genres, with highlights including the mechanical electro of Let’s Relate, the stuttering du jour production of A Sport and A Pastime, and the glam rock/spaghetti western/prog hybrid (aye, another one…) that is Chaos Arpeggiating.

Exhausting, ridiculous and full of life, De La Soul still do it like no-one else.

This time around, it's the longer tracks that hit the hardest.

We understand if the phrase 'breaking the album format' makes you eye-roll, but this collection of un-songs, half-rhythms and sound snapshots really questions the point in breaking a record into individual tracks.

It all speaks of erudition, repetition used and abused in a dizzy concatenation. 25 25 is music as heartbeat (and screw the arrhythmia). Essential.

Blossom's debut record isn't short on marketable material, but its impact could certainly have been enhanced by a more ruthless pruning.

By deliriously atmospheric closer Lisboa, it's clear that the Chicagoan trio have little new to offer the genre, but they sure know how to make a dead concept feel alive.

Where previous releases under the moniker have explored the grittier, DIY side of house, here Moss leans towards the lush, psychedelic end of the spectrum, and delivers a kaleidoscopic sonic journey that commands you to keep going back.

Animai's guest vocals feel fresh on Curtain Call but wear a little thin four features in. Mostly, though, Flowdan flexes every inch of hard-won experience for a listen that's brutally, shamelessly exciting.

Certainly a contender for the most electronic of their canon, Boy King is perhaps also their most compact and claustrophobic release since 2011’s Smother.

If the 50something version of Dinosaur Jr is happy to keep refining a formula that was pretty damn fine in the first place, we’d be fools not to indulge 'em.

It’s unlikely to bend too many fresh young minds to their cause, but nearly 40 years since the band first formed, that seems like a secondary concern. Some reservations, but good work all in.

Warmly mature yet never dull, this is a rare treat.

Hard-partying techno heads will love the anxiety-inducing tone of Operator; others may see this as a missed opportunity, after a regenerative five-year hiatus, for MSTRKRFT to explore creative nuance over noise.

The result is a suite of modern classical pieces that freewheel on orbits both real and imagined; a caul of percolating strings, woodwind and guitar, circumnavigating in loose patterns.

The rhythm section never tries too hard, Philip Frobos’ vocals recline across the ten tracks with languid urgency, but it’s former Deerstalker guitarist Frankie Boyles who steals the show.

The tunes are pretty great too, but you'll be under no illusion that they're anything other than a rock band, and an explosive one at that.

These songs are raw and beautiful. Glaspy's voice is roughened, tremulous and hypnotic. Her guitar playing is characterful and advanced. Be sure to leave a space on those end-of-year lists.

Fiery hip-hop instrumentals, creamy rhythm and blues balladry and classic lounge vibes are explored with equal excitement--and pulled off with equal panache.

Nothing’s Real, the finished product in question, is imbued with the type of honesty that lends credence to the former [effacing, tongue-in-cheek hubris].

At 20 tracks long, however, it takes some serious listening to get through the whole thing, and a sense of sag in the latter third threatens to overpower on the first few spins. Essentially, this flower could've used a little more judicious pruning.

Anagrams is not nearly as watery as, say, Vetiver, but it's some distance from the righteous majesty of The Shins.

While Mr So and So shows the gig perv no mercy, elsewhere Hanna’s bonehead-nailing, predudice-lancing manifesto reverberates, as ever, with humanity and truth.

For an indie record, Open Book does what it does well, and with charm, but there’s an unshakeable sense of wasted potential here.

Lyrics are as simple and as witty as ever, focusing around sexual desire, jealousy and life in the pre-hipster East End in 2008.

There's a definite sense of deja vu, and maybe there's less of the bite that made the Durham band's debut Courting Strong feel so vital... but when the band kick into heavier tracks like Goldman's Detective Agency, it's free-wheeling, cathartic goodness.

At times perhaps overly conceptual--Honeymooning Alone needlessly hammers the point home--The Bride also lacks more standout cuts to truly make it soar. There’s nevertheless plenty to appreciate here; just don’t expect much in the way of wedding playlist material.

The songs are solid enough, particularly Candlelight (a dead ringer for The Sonics) and Follow Me Home, which has the swagger and punch of Van Morrison's Them. If that whole milieu is to your taste, definitely worth seeking out.