This record is a striking reminder of why Shygirl is one of the capital’s brightest talents.

There is great humanity to And Nothing Hurt, a collection of wistful, wounded observations, the work of a person wearied by the world, but no less in love with it for that. There is hope and joy and naivety here, even as Pierce sounds like he’s been kicked in the groin before recording another cracked vocal.

With lyrics that encompass the reality of ageing with all its wisdom and regrets, and with music that employs the deftness of touch that can only come with long-term honing, Arab Strap have delivered their defining record.

As the lovelorn ‘From Far Away’ floats by, desolate and broken, haunted by the ghosts of art-rock guitars and phantom electronics, it’s clear that Jeff Tweedy still isn’t comfortable on well-trodden roads and that Warm has moments that upend Americana as beautifully as ‘Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’ did with US indie rock. One to let simmer.

Rossen is a master craftsman--and one of the best songwriters in modern rock--and with Silent Hour/Golden Mile he's set the bar tantalisingly high for Grizzly Bear's return.

Light Up Gold is one of the best debut albums you'll hear all year.

He sounds similarly out of it on the dreamy-as-hell pair ‘Drunk And On A Star’ (“I’ve gone dizzy, like a ship/ When that water comes into it”) and ‘Ferris Wheel’ (“Well I lose my mind, sometimes”). By the end of this sublime record, you’ll have lost yours too.

Shoegazing in origin, barn-storming in conclusion. [24 Jun 2006, p.43]

Backed by a supporting cast of R&B superstars and bright newcomers, it’s a record of long, lazy summers; sitting back and staring at the clouds.

In the disarray of anxiety, touring and being thrust into the unrelenting bright light of fame, Chatten found a semblance of balance by channelling acute discomfort into a stirring, spotless debut, and what he excavated from the biting darkness is not only beautiful but promising.

The Great Pretenders is an emotional, emboldened triumph.

As a record ‘The Art of Losing’ also holds up a reflection which is both painful and familiar – it captures the unpredictable, spinning chaos of grief with a searing precision that’s hard to turn away from.

The music that Ghost make over twelve tracks, more than ever before, is a truly delicious pop-rock proposition.

Lee’s lyrics are sometimes sentimental to the point of potentially seeming trite, but they’re logical for a situation where love and pain have become so overwhelming that simple statements seem the most trustworthy.

In a world where a cheap squirt of brass is enough to equal "a new direction", the Super Furries' free-range ideas-farming is a vital antidote to the preservative-pumped junk that curdles music's bloodflow.

They're the sentiments and sounds of West Coast rock becalmed and quietened, stripped of fretwanking excess, and invested with a warmth that transcends cliché. A fortunate, if belated release, and a tragedy averted.

In ploughing a unique furrow in pop music, he demands your enjoyment as much as your respect.

A notch below the genius of 'Debut' or 'Homogenic' but precious nonetheless. [4 Sep 2004, p.73]

‘ALIAS’ proves that Shygirl is in full control of her artistic vision no matter the scale.

They have a way of transporting you to a precise moment or emotion. It’s why ‘The Ballad of Darren’ is so memorable and touching: you can feel it, everything, in every line sung or note played.

Far from just leftovers, the second excellent album to come out of this rich period proves that the well runs deep in Tamara Lindeman’s imperial phase.

Sometimes a joke starts wearing thin, but goes on so long that it comes back around. And Eton Alive is a pretty great punchline. Not everything has to be escapist or explicitly political--sometimes you just want to hear people make gags about a world that you recognise. It’s cathartic, it’s entertaining. It says: you exist. Eton Alive makes Sleaford Mods funny again.

A slippery, intoxicating listen. The production and songwriting feel looser and more experimental, liberated from the weight of carrying heavy narratives or nostalgia. When elements appear unfamiliar, Vynehall guides them into similar worlds like he’s just cracked the next piece of the puzzle.

O’Brien keeps us under with rich, sophisticated soul vibes, oceanic piano, languid sax solos and an overlying tone of optimism.

A record, feels truly – and brilliantly – emblematic of the sharp, controlled chaos that Paris Texas have honed over a handful of previous EPs.

It’s an album that fully appreciates that life’s highs and lows are hopelessly intertwined, which only makes them more beguiling. And above all, it’s a strikingly vital pop album charged with love, lust, sweat and regret. You won’t need a bosh of poppers to feel thoroughly intoxicated.

If ‘This Is Happening’ must be a parting shot from this smartest and most human of dance machines, it’s a fine one. Though by LCD’s own standards this takes second place to ‘Sound Of Silver’’s unquestionable gold medal, by any other current band’s measure this is an all-out classic.

Even in its more intimate moments, there’s a certain theatricality to ‘Once Twice Melody’, which is home to some of Beach House’s most surreal lyrics.