Without a dull moment in sight, Reep has succeeded in creating something of an ethereal masterpiece.

More often than not, this album is deeply enthralling, providing interesting textures, head-swaying grooves, tight rhythms, and an awesome display of synchronicity amongst the bandmates at almost any turn.

While Ship has a few compelling moments, it's mostly lethargic and sinks into its own monotonous haze.

Even if Hard Light is more homogenous than Delaware, it retains the group’s interest in always finding a different tonality, skipping from one genre or influence to another and conceiving genuine hit material.

It's just a Hot Chip side project that sounds like a Hot Chip side project, and there's nothing wrong with that, but nothing terribly exciting either.

Free Humans rewards the time investment, even if it does take a few unnecessary detours. It possesses so much pop ingenuity and sonic diversity that it has the potential to appeal to all sorts of people previously unfamiliar with the band.

At times it feels maybe a little too familiar sonically or compositionally, but all in all, The Land, The Water, The Sky is a potent portrait of a musician who only gets more impressive with each release.

This isn't yet Tucker's masterpiece. But it's surely a step in that direction.

It pushes and pulls the listener into its warm underbelly whilst being contradictory in nature from one minute to the next. The more jarring elements of the album are counterpointed with soothing cascades of sound that envelope the listener before being jettisoned off again before too long.

Their new album, Mercurial World, is a careful collection of pop tracks that threaten, but never quite, reach a boil.

The hook-heavy Haunted Painting is prime for tweens looking to break into indie rock sectors – it’s quirky, it’s light, it’s fun, and it’s Dupuis at her most earnest.

Beatopia lacks the edge and drive of its predecessor, yet several inspired moments are enough to maintain Kristi’s reputation as one of the nation’s most exciting young artists.

After 11 tracks, this return feels well-earned, but it’s equally refreshing to know the next song we hear from Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever might not be so predictable.

Pretty, moody, and even transcendently beautiful in places, Breakers' small-scale take on dream pop is a tempestuous and emotionally unhinged listen.

When a flower blooms, it changes shape and appearance but not its biological essence; similarly, for all its subtle differences, Bloom avoids shedding the bittersweet swells that have become the duo's stock-and-trade.

There are enough moments here to suggest that the band can find a comfortable middle ground between the two sounds that will suit both their aspirations and the desire of the listeners, let's just hope that next time around they find it.

An inveterate realist, J Mascis isn't one for romanticism, and there's not a wealth of it to be found on Several Shades of Why.

Without striving to be as overtly melodramatic as some of her contemporaries, Murray harnesses that desperation which Portishead's Beth Gibbons manages to pull off so well but by containing and internalising it, manages to offer a refreshingly navel-gazing approach to the pysche of the modern lover.

With Indian Yard, there’s a feeling we might not yet know the full identity of Ya Tseen, but a future release without such reliance on partnerships will surely enlighten. There’s enough thoughtful layering and earnest emotion (“At Tugáni” is where he shows this most, notably in a song named after his son) in Indian Yard to merit further exploration.

Seabed is a luscious album that implores you to dive into the gorgeous depths of its sound and atmosphere.

The whole is not as majestic as its parts, including the often very evocative lyrics. But on the record there is little left of those initial spiritual ideas itself, and the creative drive of the opening salvo won’t carry onto the second half. And that is a shame, as the album’s individual highs suggest greatness.

This is a mini-album that does exactly what it’s meant to, in exactly the time that it takes to do so.

The album is a widening and a deepening of the style we've come to expect of Walker – but it's also got elements of a brightening of that sound as well.

It's comfortably K.R.I.T., neither venturing beyond the most basic facets of his developing sound, nor sinking below the standard he's set.

With Ritual Union, the band forges their own path and does not take the easy way out.

Just Once is certainly a singular release and not a direction for HTDW's future (though more of this stuff wouldn't be unwelcome), but it's still moving in a way that is completely individual.

Tana Talk 4 shows Benny the Butcher’s improving his rhymes, but doesn’t offer any more profound insight into the man behind the microphone – even as we return to where it all started.

Maybe Constant Future is the record to finally thrust this deserving outfit over the edge. Even if it isn't, it's still another damn good addition to a wickedly unheralded, but highly effective, library.