Albarn on Britain is a proven formula, but Simonon, Allen and Simon Tong combine to craft curious twenty-first century folk about curious twenty-first century folk.

The closest ‘Quadra’ comes to breaking new ground and entering unclaimed territory is the dramatic metamorphosis of Green’s voice during the nostalgic nu-metal hymn ‘Agony of Defeat’, not to mention the superb acoustic intro and the profane chorus of ‘Guardians of Earth’. More crucially, the samba drum-kit of ‘Capital Enslavement’ and the syncopated beat on ‘Raging Void’ shows that the idea of exploring percussive possibilities is slowly growing on them.

A helter-skelter ride through extra-dimensional sonics, ‘Wilds’ is an exhilarating return, The Soundcarriers’ lengthy absence simply making their return all the more potent.

It’s an album to get lost in and to find the pockets of light that punctuate the sublime melodies and dank instrumentation.

Dreamy but real, hazy but pure and insightful, this project facilitates fresh ambition and explores new ground for Real Estate. And maybe, this record will take them even closer to that elusive ‘main thing’.

At times pretty, at others curiously appealing, ‘AIR’ is more-often-than-not simply boring, ca selection of mood music that fills up space without every truly saying anything.

While this might not be the most fun album to listen to, Neil Young and Crazy Horse deliver solid performances that elevate it from seven songs of despondency.

A 10-track wonder that is a more mature and eclectic take on her gloriously femme and thundering electro-pop.

Avey Tare’s new album ‘7s’ sits in the shadow of ‘Time Skiffs’, but it contains a curious character of its own. Featuring – naturally enough – seven tracks, it both nods to some of the conduits of Animal Collective’s work, while also injecting something different.

This is strange, boutique folk-pop with a vitalised imagination--a rewarding listen, and then some.

The result is something that sounds mechanical and generally detached from emotion.

A dark and perilous experience, one just hopes there’s light at the end of Adams’ tunnel.

Sad, weird, beautiful, fiercesome; music to move and excite. [Apr 2013, p.97]

Well worth imbibing.

The album is a sun-kissed trip with layered overdubs, shimmering guitar inter-play and a sense of wanderlust, a warm departure from the celebrated lo-fi debut LP.

With plenty to digest, there’s no lack of ideas, if maybe a lack of focus. Stripping this back to a leaner, focused synth set might have injected a bit more punch. That said, Office Politics finds the underrated genius as acerbic and creatively inspired as ever.

Stars Are The Light is an aural journey, one which forces the listener to reconnect, or at least reconsider, their relationship with nature. In doing so, it encourages individuality and challenges one to break-up with the conventions of modern life.

The result is a solid, if overly safe album that avoids some of the pitfalls of the past but fails to ignite the heart.

It takes a special sort to do such songs justice with a mere acoustic guitar, but Marshall manages it. When things go electric, the ante isn’t upped nearly enough, however, and can’t help but pale compared to the frantic energy of The Hawks and Dylan fighting the audience.

It’s schizophrenic and really quite silly in places, Broke is never less than entirely entertaining.

A more concise LP that continues LUH's mythos, whilst also branching out sonically, Love Hates What You Become reinforces their necessary purpose. Fearless, life-affirming and without compromise, Lost Under Heaven's future blues have the potential to be a soundtrack of a generation.

A record of sheer beauty and one that finds London Grammar at the absolute top of their game.

When Gambino plays it straight he sounds majestic.

Despite at times being muddled, Segall is not afraid to stand up and confront the audience, evoking the most visceral of feelings and pushing the boundaries of comfort. Divisive, but all the more brilliant for it.

The maker and breaker of neon daisy chains, 'Galaxy Garden' is a fantasia that's as lush as a chain of soap shops.

The pair still aren’t in that DFA1979 category of combatively brilliant, just yet.

He returns in possession of a gloriously direct set of songs that feel instantly familiar.

Tracks such as ‘Aurelia’ and ‘Feed From The Floor’ harbour familiar macabre theatrics, though this time they feel more matured and far less overwrought than in previous offerings.