As lush and expansive as his former work was taut and aggro - only the quality remains.

At their best, on Yankee Go Home and Five Easy Pieces, their sound becomes less indie rock than ecstatic chanting.

Now every track is an intensely creative pop gem, like those brilliant pockets scattered throughout previous releases, refined and condensed.

This is a beautiful record; so wistful and reflective when it finishes it’ll make you feel instantly nostalgic.

The production is smoother, but when Sleeping Lessons morphs from an opiate dream to a riffing stomp with such exhilarating economy, or Red Rabbits wraps drunkenly swaying strings around yet another firmament-bound chorus, you can forgive an occasional excess of slickness.

Much of Hissing Fauna… dances in the face of its depressing subject matter.

His vivid, scattershot rhymes are clever without being cryptic, and his techno-tinged beats never veer off into tuneless arhythmia.

Essential listening.

This only occasionally matches the breathtaking splendour of last year's …Illinoise! but with its modest price and immodest extras only Scrooge could fail to have his heart warmed.

It’s to her great credit that Newsom (literally) plucks artistic triumph from the jaws of cloying whimsy.

This may not measure up to The Hour Of Bewilderbeast, but it does boast a batch of sweet and deceptively unfussy, scruffily heartfelt tunes dealing with love, loss and the messiness of life that help redeem his unarguable songwriting talent.

Meek Warrior’s seven tracks form a sprawling tapestry where every guitar pluck, clarinet wail or joyous shout seems part of some euphoric cosmic plan.

[Finn's] smart, poetic, unashamedly adult lyrics... almost guarantee this is the best arena band that’ll never play an arena.

Bewildered newcomers will soon be entranced, old fans won't be disappointed.

Shot through with attention to detail and the lush production typical of Dunkel’s main concern, Darkel might have its moments of archness but it knows how to shake it’s booty, too.

It’s a winning combination, with the Prince’s shambolic charm still intact but lent clarity by the new additions that make this infinitely preferable to previous efforts.

Heartfelt but sometimes overly polite.

A less angular, more grown-up album - something that won’t rattle your nerves.

At 77 minutes it’s no sprint, but YLT’s mellifluous serpentines are never less than involving.

A welcome reminder of the Brummie art-poppers’ lighter, brighter past.

The confessional micro-detail of Darnielle’s minimal indie-folk songs – and haunted whine of a voice – remains stoically unchanged.

Ward’s band kick back with a looser, rockier feel than previously, yet his dusty, wistful voice still inhabits an age all of its own.

Waterloo To Anywhere is more pro and muscular than former endeavours, chiming more with labelmates Razorlight’s ambitious professionalism.

The translations offer many witty surprises.

The Eraser’s sound lies somewhere between the roiling beat soup of Amnesiac and a poppier sensibility.

Not all of Dangerfield's maverick ideas work - he should steer clear of under-accompanied singing for a start - but when they do take off, Guillemots really soar.

It’s a one-trick pony album sure, but what a trick.

An ultra-sensuous experience.