Besides ‘It Is Only You’ and ‘Here Comes The Storm’, the mountain-shouting bravado of old tracks like ‘Borders’ and ‘Put You In Your Place’ has been dampened, but TSU is an intriguing new sunrise.

For her less conventional-sounding follow-up, she and producer Prince Fatty have beefed up the basslines, giving her tropical pop songs a dubby atmosphere.

Overall, Pure X’s immersive charm remains intact. Only ‘Rain’ betrays the heady sonics of old.

The formula wears pretty thin towards the end--bee-stung emoting in the verses, splashy catharsis in the chorus--but Glorious is no failure.

Too often, Thumpers fall flat.

In defiance of a criminal lack of universal adulation, they just get better, harder, faster, stronger, and you boggle at just how formidable they might be in their dotage.

Everybody Down brings to life a plotline that’ll be more fully explored in Tempest’s debut novel, published by Bloomsbury later this year. It’s hard to imagine it being more gripping than this, though.

It all harks back to the word-in-your-ear confessionals of ‘Fevers And Mirrors’. Were it not for the whimsical, country-tropical jangle of ‘Hundreds Of Ways’, Upside Down Mountain would very nearly be its equal.

Tiersen never loses touch with his innate sense of melody, but the lack of edge means that Infinity's charms are, in fact, finite.

At times that flow can feel fractured, but the underlying consistency is a singular vision and an irrepressible sense of purpose.

Easy Pain proves hard to like; and with little more than aimless aggression to cling onto for eight songs, you realise it’s all muscle.

Heartfelt, human electronica that pulses with a folksy emotion thanks to Meath’s beautifully warm vocals, the duo’s debut LP is a summer essential.

Sparkling synth melodies abound on ‘Time Enough’ and ‘Shapes And Patterns’, with only the meandering Pink Floyd indulgence ‘Vapour Trails’ dragging the journey down.

Aside from the vocoder-enhanced cosmic disco that features midway, this is an introverted offering--though much too good to fall asleep to.

Love is a lush, romantic, folk-driven collection that moves away from his earlier, more psychedelic work.

Ghost Stories is a feeling more than a collection of songs, and takes a willing reception for granted. That feeling's not rancorous, it's bloodless and resigned, but touching as well.

This Brooklyn band, completed by Dale Eisinger on drums and electronics, strike a thrilling balance between extreme industrial sound and remarkable artistry.

Aldred shares Richard Hawley's producer Colin Elliot, but also his gruff, warmhearted authority, and it's a similar hard-won wisdom that makes Herd Runners so moving.

Their 2011 debut album was nominated for the Polaris Prize, Canada’s equivalent of the Mercury--although UZU, its follow-up, is bolder, rangier and more ambitious than anything likely to trouble that bauble’s orbit.

This time there are killer hooks aplenty that immediately hit the spot. Midnight scorchio, more like.

It all sounds immaculate, but lacks the memorable lyrics and direct hooks of Papercuts’ pop forbears.

Bo Ningen have become more approachable without losing the ferocity and anything-goes attitude that made them so exciting in the first place.

A mid-section of orchestral Bacharach lounge pop, hints of Gorillaz afro-hop on ‘Allweddellau Allweddol’, the glitchy gospel of ‘The Swamp’ and some glacial grandeur on ‘Walk Into The Wilderness’ and 'Year Of The Dog' bring a sense of nobility and glory to the tale of this tribe-hunting madman.

The heart of the record, Bermuda Waterfall, crystallises a real sense of existential loneliness and leads into the outstanding, lilting waltz of ‘Darkness’ and ‘Hands Dance’.

When they get it right--‘Let Go’ is precisely the sort of arthouse R&B blockbuster they could’ve done with more of--they flirt with perfection.

Even a run of solid guest stars--Solange, Toro Y Moi and Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig--can’t pump any passion into this flaccid cringe-fest.

It’s an insane and challenging, ambitious and exceptional work of art.

There’s a lot to like about Turn Blue, but it’s a cruel irony that the heaviest hand in Dan Auerbach’s warts-and-all confessional sometimes seems to belong to his producer.