His attempts to revolutionise, strip bare and stretch the borders of R&B with all manner of glitches, gollums and glaciers are admirable, but it’s only when he tranquilizes his inner Usher for the downbeat piano throb of ‘See You Fall’, the spectral orchestration of ‘Pour Cyril’ and the acoustic minimalism of ‘2 Years On (Shame Dream)’ that he achieves the subtlety and invention of, say, Sufjan Stevens.

Currently, there are few notable British producers creating such brilliantly odd pieces of music as this.

Musically Once More 'Round The Sun is equivalent to having several tons of hot molten lava poured into your eye sockets for about an hour.

‘Archaic Revival’ is the centre-point though; nine minutes of tension-gripped, creeping bass and echoed mantras, its queasiness adds a weight of darkness to this mesmerising trip.

The cocky confidence that barrelled them into the big time might just be losing momentum--a band made of bold leaps have started dipping toes.

The line between self-aware irony and tragically conforming to type is thin, though, her knowing winks getting stuck in a tangle of false eyelashes, and ultimately undermining what had the potential to be a powerful artistic statement.

Ultra-lo-fi, but an album nonetheless stuffed full of rich melodies and arch lyrical observations.

Only when Leithauser relaxes the template does he start to cock it up.

Jaded & Faded strikes a fine balance between self-deprecation and the supreme confidence needed to get away with suggesting you've had your chips. But there's no second album syndrome here. It whoops ass.

Delve into the lyrics a little deeper, particularly the title track, and it becomes even clearer that Bauer sees his old band's split as the first step towards spiritual enlightenment and finding certainty amid the chaos.

Adrian Toubro sings like every word causes him a jolt of pain, but his songs are literate and fine-crafted, reading like distilled existential dramas.

heir lighter moments can be a bit cringeworthy--too earnest by half--but when they go slow and heavy, they’re unfuckwithable.

It might not kill the Mumford and Butler clones, but The Hunting Party is an energetic effort at least.

Lone coats everything in the same Orbital-esque melodies that made 2012’s 'Galaxy Garden' such a winner, producing an album that is both intriguingly new and gorgeously listenable.

As passion-packed as her visceral diatribes are, they suffer through being frustratingly free of dynamics.

Here, on their fifth album, the Brooklyn trio sound emboldened, finding room for horn sections and plaintive piano lines amid the murk.

The artist's 3rd album constitutes the h-pop formula at its most unremarkable.

[A] curiously eclectic record.

The likes of highlight ‘Ruby’ and ‘Step Into The Cold’ are gloriously faithful nods to their influences, executed with enough dedication to the head-music revivalist cause to make them far more than mere pastiche.

As desolate and coldly beautiful as a windswept moor, What’s Between refuses to yield simple answers but rewards deep exploration.

Love Me follows up 2012 debut album ‘Salton Sea’, but edges away from sleek, techno throb towards something more tender and torch song.

Recorded with Vår’s Loke Rahbek on synth and Malthe Fischer, ex-Oh No Ono, on guitar and production, these 10 electro-pop songs truly glisten.

Like the syndrome named after the titular city, you’ll fall for these tunes with repeated exposure, but you’ll live without them once you’re free from them too.

This is no identity crisis, it's the sound of beautiful evolution.

An assured debut.

Clipping's nightmare is riveting, particularly during its sweat-inducing peak 'Get Up', which uses an alarm clock as a beat underneath breakneck verses.

The nostalgic nods become wearier in the second half, but Beauty & Ruin is strong enough to add weight to the argument that alternative rock belongs to Bob Mould; everyone else is just borrowing it.

At times the sisters risk being bogged down by a certain two-dimensionality, but they prove there’s more to them than a sparkling glumness with ‘My Silver Lining.’