It’s not much more than the sum of its influences, but when its influences are this strong, it really doesn’t matter.

It’s bolder than before, and easily their best-executed album yet.

In spite of all the terror and uncertainty, it's the warmth that lingers.

Most of the scattershot pastiches hit their targets.

The result is a record that fully embraces the theatricality of its genre but falls just on the right side of ridiculous.

They fare better on the more tuneful, less screechy 'Midnight Hours', but as a whole the album would have benefited from some ruthless editing and extra production spit and polish.

Although Leven recites a fair number of hippie clichés (“Make some peace, everyone” implores ‘Seasoned Sun’), it’s her inventive use of an arsenal of rich, vintage synths that rescues Season Sun from cloying sweetness.

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.

For all the flash and flair, the freshest, most intimate moments here are the result of holding back.

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.

It’s respectable enough but a stronger dose of Fink’s maverick tendencies would be welcome.

The doomed relationship cycle in eternal motion or the sound of a heart that won’t stay mended, Honeyblood is visceral pop music giving its prettiest snarl.

Just as Moz's stance as a one-man outsider army and ringleader of the tormentors is restated, so is his standing as the godfather of indie disaffection and despair.

Potential cover performers take note: this is how you do it.

With shades of Julia Holter and Poliça, the 12 electro-R&B nocturnes here unfold in shimmers of keyboard, indistinct vocals (most disarmingly on piano jam ‘Broken Blue’) and torrents of existential anguish.

The descent into indie R&B anaemia on 'Animal' is less exciting, but otherwise, drenched in field recordings of whisked eggs and jangling bracelets, this album is an imaginative and accessible bout of boundary-crushing.

Whatever gear they have at their disposal, WITTR remain almost unbeatable for swelling, atmospheric excellence.

Their seventh album finds the London indie veterans dusting their melancholy songs with hope and loveable melodies, each a compelling tale in its own right.

Whether it's 'Tension Remains'' collision of religious chorale and space-age pulse or the jazz-soul cyberpunk of 'Never Defeated', the result is always original.

For the most part, Model Of You pushes Cloud Boat out into broader, more turbulent waters.

While it’s often been easy to sum up McGuinness himself with that statement, whether he wants the attention or not Chroma is a forceful enough effort to propel him centre-stage.

Departure isn't merely a psychedelia record cut with Suicide-aping proto-punk. These eight songs wrestle free of that assumption, flying off in myriad directions.

What’s really intriguing about Jungle, though, is its darker side. There's a tone of inner-city malaise, romantic ruin and psychedelic alienation to a raft of its tracks that speaks to those modern urbanites feeling screen-wiped and robbed of opportunities, busy earnin’ for nothing.

Taking so many chances means there are inevitable hiccups, but they scarcely matter.

Beverly’s effortless indie rock debut is the result of a casual collaboration between honey-voiced guitarist Drew Citron and her occasional employer, former Dum Dum and Vivian Girl Frankie Rose.

Remember Remember are more about awe than aggression, and resolutely their own thing: this is music to lose yourself in, rather than to.

What saves that song ["Slow Motion"] , and indeed the album as a whole, is Monica Martin's honeyed voice; it's full of soul, even when the arrangements aren't.

While it is maddeningly catchy in places and well put together, its defining characteristic is a conservative streak that sits strangely with this most anarchical of bands.