Enthusiasts will salivate over another uncovering of tainted treasure.

Surprising and satisfying, we'll even try to forgive the spoken word interlude.

This record sounds like every catchy guitar song you've ever heard.

Unfortunately, other than aiding nostalgia, there's not much else nice to say about The National Health.

["Night and Day" and "Flutes"] are glimmers of liveliness on an otherwise decedent record.

Valtari is glistening, subliminal and sounds as if it's balanced on a falling raindrop.

The only maturity in their sound is towards a more ambient quarter. Elevator music not quite, but rising out of the background might be an issue.

The hallmarks of Simian Mobile Disco are present - huge beats and house loops take centre-stage - but many of the tracks just feel like they're missing a vital component.

Most of these tunes are neither dog turd nor diamond. They're decent-ish disco-punk stompers sold by the vocal.

It all feels a little weary and, whilst there's clear commitment and execution, the material suddenly sounds oh so dated.

Good, but for completists.

An honest and admirable collection that merits some attention.

[Wonky has] not improved on any of their previous work. They are merely chasing the shadows cast from their own trademarked head torches.

It's far from perfect - 'Ghost Note' sounds horribly like Skrillex in places - but there [are] enough interesting sonic detours to suggest that these agitators of sound are more than just another over-hyped gimmick band.

Studio gloss and sanitised drums too often leave things sounding a little safe.

More Transworld Sport than Chariots Of Fire.

Unfortunately, the resultant package is very cleverly constructed and yet maddeningly dull.

An album that could be the soundtrack to the most fucked-up cowboy movie yet to be made.

They could do with a couple more uptempo nuggets like 'The Kids Were Wrong'.

So many of the risks taken are either unevocative or plain annoying, particularly when the tracks are structured with so little sense of development.

It's got a sweet, easy intimacy.

Lee ... continues his proclivity for sonic innovation with a plethora of funky grooves and drum lines - with no loops in earshot. AM's psychedelic guitar licks, basslines and vocals underpin an overriding '60s vibe.

The over-riding impression is that this is a tired, conservative and weirdly insular album.

It's more a relic of the past than a record of the future.

With clean production and virtuoisitic precision, imagine a Latin, metal, jazz inspired mellow mele, on acoustic instruments.

It's a band comfortable with the idea of growing up but like kids trying on their parent's clothes, the ideas behind Aabenbaringen Over Aaskammen are a little oversized but not by much.

Infuriatingly irresistible.

100 Acres... drips with sonic gloss.