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.’

Luck has its moments, but in terms of defining a way forward for Vek, chance would be a fine thing.

It's not without charm--the needle-jump static of 'Dolly And Porter' gently drives a sweet melody; stroboscopic flickers of synth make a gripping arrangement for 'Closer To The Elderly'--but too often it's just Taylor's fragile voice cooing drab, introspective mantras over sparse electric piano.

A varied album that lacks any monster riffs like the ones White used to write for The White Stripes, but includes enough intrigue, originality and plain weirdness to delight and, in some places, appal.

‘Blameless’ and ‘Little Moments’ marshal some nice glimmering synths, but Alec Ounsworth’s mewling vocal--while unquestionably distinctive--remains a bit of an odd proposition to achieve the requisite Everyman appeal.

Howling Bells aren't back to their best, but they're within touching distance.

It’s lyrically weak, however, (sample: “The moon falls in your doorway”) and although there’s sparkle in the production, Johns reveals himself to be a far from charismatic singer.

There’s melody and slick production throughout, but all the life and soul of an accountancy website.

Their first two albums, 'Checkmate Savage' (2009) and 'The Wants' (2011), pulled together elements as diverse as krautrock, campfire sing-songs and pure, pulsing pop. Strange Friend is all this and more.

Morrison, Spector, Doherty, Cobain; The Orwells know their roots and they know how that story plays out.

Sunbathing Animal is not an immediate or cushy listen, but it is gripping; a considered and brutal reminder that Parquet Courts’ aren’t necessarily an accessible band.

Those heavier cuts are the album’s best--dark, dreamy and abrasive.

As an album, it’s uneven, but its stream of highlights make this a fun listen, perfect for the summer.

Fucked Up can remain relevant without the need for continual, exhausting reinvention.

The Glasgow trio bring an almighty ruckus on second album Youth Culture Forever, building on the ear-splitting success of 2012 debut ‘Cokefloat!’ while discovering enough new shades of grey to give EL James a run for her money.

Expansive, immersive indiepop; how these Pains have grown.

Sound Mirror’s mix of jazz rhythms and psychedelic funk cuts a distinctive, if unfashionable, path.

Far lighter than their grungey 2013 debut, 'Antipodes', it's pitched between the blissed-out guitar of Splashh and the idiosyncratic pop approach of fellow Kiwi, Unknown Mortal Orchestra.

Movements is full of urgency; songs struggling to keep up with everything thrown at them.

Government Plates is a challenging listen, but as one of the most transgressive records of the year.

Round the back nine (‘Golden Fire’, ‘Kilmore’s End’, ‘Overnight’), the attention to detail slips, and they end up with a load of meat patties of twee that just come across as Owl City in fashionable shoes, a whiny inner-child deserving of a smacked botty-bot.

They feel like they could have been made at any time since 1951, yet they sound completely, compellingly new.

Breakfast, for all its modest attractions, never quite transcends its talented-journeyman origins.

'Mythnomer’'s nightmarish pitch-shifted vocal and claustrophobic beats are a misjudged move, but on the whole Breathing Statues is a world that's ripe for sinking into.

As a whole, Meteorites fails to set the sky on fire.

By the time closing waltz 'Bring Me Down' ends, intimacy levels are so high that you feel like a contented voyeur.

Consciously retro, sure, but more convincingly so than Disclosure and similar young bucks.

Van Etten tackles heartache with refreshing sharpness, distilling complex sentiments into something beautifully simple.