Thematically, Organ Music… re-visits all-of-the-above, but Spencer's more lucid in his metaphors than ever before but loses none of the mystique for doing so; listening to this is like realising you can suddenly speak horse, or whale.

'The Invisible Invasion', like both it's predecessors, takes one or two listens to really get into, but once there has an engaging appeal about it that makes it possibly The Coral's most obvious "singles" album to date.

There’s no denying that the band has released a fully coherent statement.

The danger of a concept album, is it can end up sounding like a mismatched collection of tunes that have been lumped together because they fall under the same umbrella. Romare has avoided this trap by creating a body of work that expertly weaves through all the subtleties of falling in and out of love, and everything in between.

Frankie Rose and the Outs grants her the right to carry on doing as she pleases. As Lady Gaga comes across as a glorious car crash with her incessant costume change homages, Frankie similarly deserves the right to chop and change between band and styles. For as she chews music up and spits it out, she makes a beautiful mess.

That’s what this is, a record with definition and character, a pointed move away from the nerve-frying, oft random lurches of HEALTH.

Ultramarine moves Young Galaxy from being a great indie band to being a great band, full stop. The songs profoundly move the body and the psyche in equal measure.

The over riding result is that Hot Chip now seem infinitely more comfortable and competent in their skins.

Offering is also Cults’ finest work to date. At their best, they offer a hymn to the inexhaustible spirit of hope; at the very least, they have proven they can survive the whims of an increasingly fickle market.

Below The Branches is, maybe, the first perfect summertime album, absolutely brimming with brightness and charm.

As a representative document of the band's formative years to the present, Creatures Of An Hour is an astounding debut that can only bode well for the future.

By its very nature this is a more cohesive work than "Cassadaga," and a fine, true one at that: evocative, sporadically inspired and resoundingly enjoyable, repeat plays paying dividends.

The joy and longevity emanating throughout is at once jubilant and effortless: a luminescent pop-not-quite-masterpiece as much an indication one waits a little further down the road, Nights Out is eminently worthy of your time and investment.

On the whole, it matches Smith’s cheerier mood. A couple of abstract jam splodges aside, the album is punchier and less dirgy than last time.

This is hip-hop for post-rock fans and vice versa.

All Tense Now Lax, then, is brilliant precisely because of the way it flits disconcertingly between the two extremes presented in its title, between the constant and unrestrained tension of technological progress and the contrasting looseness of our day to day existence alongside it.

Sure, Two Gallants might take a good four tracks to get going, but the five that follow are outstanding--alive, almost.

Its layers upon layers of ideas and electronic noise require a level of repeat digestion far, far removed from the instant gratification and heart-on-sleeve emotions dominating the musical landscape. And that’s never a bad thing when done with the innate skill and passion for progression heard here.

These wandering riffs, devastating drum rolls and rollicking motifs will stick with you, but primarily to serve as an appetite-whetting taste of where their makers may venture next.

The album’s major problem, more than anything, is that such a flabbergastingly brilliant end stretch hints at a better record that might have been, a furiously abrasive set of drum’n’gaze (sorry) that would have completely blindsided all of us, rather than the enjoyable grab bag of dreamy old and in yer face new that we in fact get.

While some fans of her earlier, more challenging, material may be mildly disappointed sonically by such a straight-up pop record, even they must acknowledge what an important album this is both personally to Monae and socially to the current world, and for that, it is a successful and pleasurable work.

If Lovers Know initially feels like it’s dipping into the golden age of the American songbook, then this must be the most fruitful panning for gold to be released in eons.

Despite a noble resume, no other album comes closer to capturing the true essence of their onstage presence.

Devastating until the very last note subsides, this is arguably The Telescopes' finest record for over a decade. Prepare to be pulverised.

It's consistent and enjoyable, showcasing some nice new ideas while continuing to pull off the same tricks that Flying Lotus has been using to make a name for himself 2010.

Cheatahs might not have done anything especially new on their debut record, but they’ve delivered it in such incendiary fashion that it’s impossible to ignore.

If the results could always mesmerise and captivate as much as LUMP’s too-brief debut, perhaps we’d listen and follow suit.

There are ten fine new songs here, each beautiful and sorrowful, sparse and complex, sacred and profane: this is what to expect from a new record by Bonnie 'Prince' Billy.

Both as an album opener after a ten year absence and a spiritual partner to Public Image, This is PiL is pretty much perfect.

A wise, personal and vigorously ambitious album of the year.

I Know What Love Isn't is a classy break-up record rather than just a classic one.

As a collection of well-trod leitmotifs, Fudge Sandwich functions more as further folklore in the Segall autobiography than a mere cursory look at the tracklist would suggest.

There is a lovely, childish innocence to how much fun you can hear them having on this record, revisiting the music that once made them dream of making music their life’s work.

Whether it be the quaint elegance and flowing, reverb heavy guitars of kaleidoscopic opener 'I'm Gone' or claustrophobic haze of album standout 'Heavenly Bodies', there's little here that disappoints.

Just when you thought Reznor and his obscenely large biceps had been plugging away far too long on what was essentially a Nine Inch Nails tribute act, he sets things straight again with an original, well-produced, no-bullshit record. More of this please, and less of that other stuff.

Abandoned Language is a much more direct affair than its predecessor.

There’s no doubting it’s a very good album. The band’s best? Probably not. A successful return from a hiatus overlong? Certainly.

Last Evenings on Earth is as vast and sprawling as their self-titled debut, yet at the same time it’s concise and refined.

There is something both abstract and individual and yet universal about the way that Harding writes and presents her trials and triumphs of the heart.

What really impresses though is how complete all of this sounds: aside from the typically cocky lyrical references, there’s nary a hint that they’ve not been working together for the last few years.

If Conduit was the warm-up for their come back, then Chapter & Verse sees them break into a full sprint.

Halo expertly shuffles musical microclimates like a card shark elbow greasing a three card molly hustle.

What you really need to know about Courtcase 2000 is that it's an incredibly accomplished LP--maiden or otherwise.

To reiterate, then: it’s not the third Beirut album, like, proper. But as a means of sating collective appetites before that record does arrive--heightening expectations, even--it is a remarkable achievement.

case/lang/veirs is a record full of compelling, tender, starry energy.

By insisting on its purpose as soundtrack, Daniel Lopatin addresses that separation head-on. This defiance asserts Good Time as a record to listen to in the here and now, with or without its filmic accompaniment.

Not quite a milestone then, but a release that’s set to be remembered for a very long time to come.

This is a great rock and roll record.

The musicality on Pylon remains suitably elastic.

In spite of its sweeping musical and thematic ambitions, The Electric Lady emerges as a surprisingly coherent listen.

Fundamentally, this EP is the sound of a very good band becoming a great band.

A fitting eulogy.

On the first spin this is a set of highly listenable light pop tunes. However, this is by no means insubstantial and some real gems begin to reveal themselves.

It's a richly evocative record that is impossible to sit still to and confirms Laveaux as a unique talent.

Weller seems enthusiastic, upbeat and genuinely inventive across the whole LP, with only a couple of minor missteps throughout.

Other changes of note are a full remaster, which has actually made a palpable difference to the plumpness of the bass in songs like 'Hispanic Impressions', and three extra tracks, all released on split EPs prior to this album coming out. They haven't ruined it or anything daft, but also aren't cooking at the level of most of the actual album.

Thankfully, the album’s final act is as convincing as its opening movements.

All We Love We Leave Behind retains the fire of Jane Doe and harnesses everything they've learned since, combining to create something unrelenting, brutal, and never short of magnificent.

Although Kember's trademark floaty production sound is omnipresent at the forefront throughout, its Porpora's disconsolate vocal performance that steals the show.

Beyondless is an ambitious and accomplished ride that will claim a deserved spot on most Best-Of lists this year. Wrap up warm: the ice age has arrived.

Shadows illustrates the band's strong points - simple yet effective melodies coupled with sumptuous vocal harmonies courtesy of Blake, McGinley and Love while lyrically scaling a fine line between happy-go-lucky romanticism and solemn melancholy.

Even with that super high-gloss finish, it's hard to dispute the depth of songwriting talent throughout American Slang, and as a summer rock album, it's (quite literally) nigh on faultless.

Distinctive in style and sound, particularly Hecksher's drawling vocal and JC Rees expedient guitar surges, it's a record that pulls no punches in execution or delivery while conveying some of the most heartfelt lyrics Hecksher has ever penned.

At the purest of all levels, this is a presentation of sound in detail, which, to listen to carefully reveals surprise after surprise.

If it’s their lighter side that appeals, they’ve never made such a consistent pop album, and I use the term with not the slightest hint of cynicism.

Between the Times and the Tides is advertised as his first 'rock album' which makes it sound more abrasive than it is, although it packs more of an aural punch than Thurston's latest Beck-helmed Nick Drake tribute album.

For now, Tegan and Sara have reached the end of a thorny, awkward path to pop perfection. Those years of uncertainty have only sweetened the realisation.

Somehow all these disparate parts click together and make Government Plates the most captivating Death Grips album yet.

Ruins is at once more formally stately than those [previous] albums, with Harris accompanied only by a stiff piano, and more emotionally obtuse, her lyrics back under a slight veil, taken out of the stark glare that made songs like ‘We’ve Become Invisible’ so touching.

Both ancient and futuristic, a mildewed signal from a more advanced culture that failed to survive the ice age, Third doesn’t make you pay attention to its desolate contours, but rather stare out of the window, creeping panic causing your mind to dart in a million dark directions at once.

Regardless of what anyone wanted or expected from them though, this brilliant debut sees Diet Cig establishing a complex, nuanced voice with a subtle uniqueness, a fierce emotionality and a great sense of fun.

The result is Mogwai’s most vital release in years; a collection of fully realized pieces that could be the closest they’ll ever come to an unplugged greatest hits.

It’s also a big album: a long, sprawling epic that stretches out for it’s slightly-padded running time, but one so full of ideas and intricacies that it’s an easy album to get sucked into.

Smart, fast and visceral, debut LP Time Team is unpretentious and unfuckwithable; inviting, evasive and very occasionally serene, like a cosmic kaleidoscope peering beneath the totality of existence.

This is the sound of a band that, all things considered, has upheld remarkably high standards over a four decade career, and this eighteenth studio album is the latest highlight in a long list of very genuine standouts.

The album is a collection of songs from a band at the peak of their powers having their cake and eating it too.

The few extra tracks that follow ["Slow Fade"] don’t really do much apart from bloat the run time, which is my only gripe with the record, really. That aside though (and what it lacks in depth, it more than makes up for in atmosphere) it’s an intriguing look at a talented producer carving his own path, and making dancefloors a little bit weirder.

Unpatterns feels like less of a discrete instalment in a collection and more an accomplished blend of the two things James Ford and Jas Shaw do best--gigantic, open-armed, open-air pop, and femur-fracturing analogue techno.

Now Mi Ami are making sense. Now you realise that this band is actually really good. Really, really good. And they make you want to dance.

Whether they're prepared for it or not, 'Open Season' is set to transcend indie cliques and hardcore raving mentalist fanbases and blow BSP wide open.

Despite the variety of influences which went into the making of this album, Band of Horses have a characteristic sound which can occasionally become samey and slightly dull, yet for the most part it gives the album a comforting continuity.

Perhaps the true beauty of Neon Bible is its imperfection.

Magic is a strong record, riddled with sad emotion yet a noble intent to carry on.

This is a loud, confident album, best enjoyed at high volume.

Age Of is a maddening, compelling, even thrilling record that feels like a conclusive summation of everything the Oneohtrix Point Never project has been (or even hinted at) to date.

The music goes over old ground, with none of the inspiration found in Finch's material after-...Burn. Then a post-rock-influenced guitar break arrives and they start to gather momentum.

This is a fantastically arranged and conceptually exquisite record, and as much as it feels like anathema to say that a contemporary pop highpoint has sprouted below the surface, in the case of Class Actress it's true.

The most important thing to establish is that most of this music is extraordinary and that the first half is nigh on faultless... much of the second half really does feels like band or label have tried to airbrush out the stuff the Yanks didn't like so much.

That word, confidence, is one that can be applied to much of the record. For many other bands, it can be hard to pull off accessibility with credibility. Of course, that credibility could falsely come from their community more than anything, but this case is not that simple. There are real take you aback moments on this album that are based on plain pop sensibility above anything else.

Overall, the album is thought-provoking and relevant. It’s an enjoyable listen and one which morphs and draws deeper messages with each listen. The moderate changes in sound only serve to highlight the poignance of the words through unassuming backing.

Thrillingly improbable pop made by a grade-A maverick. Three cheers to that.

What we have in Pala is not some great band reinvention, or some desperately profound effort; it's giant choruses, relatable lyrics, a million earworm riffs and 11 dance anthems.

If the results are as finely crafted as The Harrow & The Harvest, she can take as long as she likes with the next one.

An unerring sense of conflict courses through The Dusk In Us, and while that might sound like business as usual for a Converge record, it’s a testament to Bannon and his cohorts that they remain so compelling nine albums in.

This album sounds more rounded and more complete than her previous releases; the sound of an artist truly ARRIVING and ready to play.

Essentially the real joy is to hear the three original members locking in so tightly together.

While perhaps not as immediate or instantly accessible as Eagulls, it represents a marked progression for a band seemingly intent on developing themselves at every possible juncture.

Comforting, unsettling, danceable; one way or another Macaroni is a record to make you sweat.