Sonically, it’s his most polished record yet. London producer kwes delivers a soulful, melancholic sound that helps Carner move from dynamic, multi-syllabic storytelling to a more honest, reflective voice.

It's as though all the contrariness of Blonde Redhead's angular past has dissolved into a fascination with pop ('This Is Not'), '60s soundtracks ('Melody Of Certain Three') and naked piano ballads ('For The Damaged', featuring one of The Black Heart Procession on the ivories) without sacrificing any of the heart-stopping dynamics or confessional psychodramas.

Propelled by sharp, angular sounds, ‘The Center Won’t Hold’ craves connection above everything else in a world that can often seem desperately lonely. Each dirty and distorted throb (unlocked to full potential by Annie Clark’s gift for making guitars sound positively devilish) seems to yearn for another body to hold onto.

This is an enormously enjoyable album that doesn’t just deliver on its kitsch potential; it also makes you feel both moved and exhilarated.

Sixth album Bleeds is often weighty, but sounds consistently alive, and inimitably Roots Manuva.

Charli’s second mixtape of the year isn’t just about proving she’s more than your average pop star, but about her settling into her role as innovator, celebrator, and curator supreme.

There are sparks of new wave brightness and Beatles lustre, ensuring an album about uncertainty and dejection remains beautiful throughout.

There’s no broad concept or industry-busting roll-out, just 10 pristine, richly satisfying tracks; no more, no less.

Here he delivers a 14-minute psychedelic disco odyssey ('Comment Revoir Oursinet?') about missing his teddy bear. The rest of 'L'Aventura', his sixth album, is deep-pile funk ('Sous Les Rayons Du Soleil'), bouncing electro-soul ('Aller Vers Le Soleil') and as cheesy as a Camembert cravat.

‘That! Feels Good!’ is a maximalist tour de force of glossy pop sounds. A liberating collection that seeks to paint a three-dimensional picture of Ware – as “a lover, a freak and a mother”, as she sings on ‘Pearls’ – this album sees her embrace a Sasha Fierce-like alter ego in a celebration of dancing and female agency.

‘Melodies On Hiatus’, adopts the same spaciousness of the territory it was created in, allowing Hammond Jr to spiral and sprawl out sonically. ‘Melodies On Hiatus’ may seem meandering at times, but eventually it lands where it needs to be.

A debut brimming with bile.

In pursuit of an authentic sound, Humberstone proves that she’s not only inhabiting her own space – and beckoning listeners in – but also building out the walls.

An enchanting record of twists and turns.

I’m Going Away sees The Fiery Furnaces abandon their surrealist tendencies to work outside their comfort zone, experimenting with structure and euphony to reassert their status as our most vital musical siblings.

From the outset it makes clear that it features songs that aren’t rooted in any one place or time, but are effortlessly stitched together to create a dynamic mapping of modern urban existence.

The whole thing fizzes with a wired guitars-on-sleeve honesty and an artful intelligence more akin to The Mars Volta after an emergency jazzectomy thanThe Datsuns’ deadheaded dolt rock.

It’s always best to take what M.I.A. says with a pinch of salt bigger than the NHS would recommend but if AIM really is her last album, it feels like a fitting parting shot.

At its most euphoric, 'In Case We Die' is reminiscent of the cast of South Park forming a Polyphonic Spree tribute band after an all-night feast of sugarcubes and E numbers. [13 Aug 2005, p.58]

It's clear this group have ways of getting beneath your skin. [20 May 2006, p.33]

There are no real bangers here, but for once that’s not a disappointment cushioned by wafty ballads. Instead the low-key, moody production throws the spotlight on the words and the images brought to play by Beyonce as serious album artist, encompassing bulimia, post-natal depression, the fears and insecurities of marriage and motherhood, and lots and lots of sex.

A maelstrom of hums, echoes and grumbles of horns, percussion and bass pushes against always gentle melodies. But Week’s voice, striking and smooth, always blends with the music. One is not stronger than the other. Delicacy and power, waiting and living, the ordinary and the extraordinary – the listener is invited to feel it all.

The absence of quirky samples and lame big beats make it all sound, right now, strangely radical.

‘Don’t Forget Me’ shines in its simplicity, with Ian Fitchuk (Kacey Musgraves, Stephen Sanchez) as the sole collaborator. Here, through a whole-hearted embrace of the folk, country and Western that underscored her upbringing, Rogers’ seems more at home than ever. Yet, ‘Don’t Forget Me’ exists as a meticulously crafted homage to the road trip.

A constantly surprising and relentlessly melodic pleasure.

They've made a sincere, unironic record about how great life can be if you want it to be.

This urgent and important record will ensure the veterans don’t get lost in the shuffle.

There’s a reason that the London-via-Kendall four-piece, centred around siblings Fiona and Will Burgess, have been attracting such attention. In fact, there are 11 of them on this debut full-length. Much of it’s down to Fiona Burgess’ sad yet sultry vocals and the way they stretch across these dreamy, largely synth-based songs.