The Benders sound buttoned-up and clean-cut, infinitely pleasant and inoffensive, one suggestive song title (Pleasure Sighs) notwithstanding.

Although it’s good stuff, there are few innovations here, and while the simplicity is welcome, you may not always notice that there’s an album playing.

An excitable sound, great vocal harmonies, a jangling noise that is immensely listenable: It's all here, it's catchy as hell, and it's exciting.

The Other Side of Zero shifts from side to side with some regularity, ranging from bubbly and invigorating to downbeat and expressive. There's a real sense of diversity here, and it's what sets the album apart.

With the amount of care and attention to detail found in tracks like Begin to Remember and Into Distance, it’s a shame that their more atmosphere-oriented tracks feel the least realized, coming off as throwaways in an otherwise structurally sound record.

On its own, it's a great record. Tacked onto the end of a sprawling, massively exciting discography, it just doesn't deliver.

The many highlights on Heartstrings suggest that the band are back on track with a bang, reminding us all of the captivating, sultry qualities that they can generate musically, something that is personified by their singer.

With Stay Home we not only get that genuine approach, but we get songwriting that's been notched up a bit. That alone is worth the cost of admission: The Beets are clearly good songwriters, even if they do happen to get their feet a bit muddy when they stray off the well-beaten path.

Unsound is, in many ways, their best work since Vs.

After all these years they can still write a catchy tune.

New Moon shows The Men, who have always been admired for their ability to pull such diverse influences but held back for their lack of originality, expanding their horizons and coming into their own.

Chaz Bundick and Toro Y Moi have with Underneath The Pine taken a step back from the Chillwave label, and a very positive step forward.

It’s an evocative listen, though they can’t quite break the compulsion to play around with passing fads.

There’s just so much going on throughout that you can’t stop listening.

While the music might still be a bit detached and remote, the more collaborative nature of this record does make it easier to meet half way, as does Stelmanis’ unerring sense of pop melody, and of when to drop a 4/4 beat for maximum effect.

Rather than taking many risks, The King of Whys polishes the most successful aspects of past Owen albums, making it one of the strongest albums in Kinsella’s vast discography; the home truths may not make it an enjoyable listen, but it’s definitely worthwhile.

What always distinguished HEALTH was their ability to go off into a maelstrom of ominous disrepair, and losing sight of that leads its core sound to suffer regardless of whether they alter their approach.

More so than Wounded Rhymes or Youth Novels, I Never Learn is a record for a radio-loving crowd who wouldn’t have a problem with the lack of variety in content matter or the relative sameness in sound and composition.

While rallying for a new cycle of nostalgia, Yuck's debut ends with beautifully rendered confirmation that they mean to do more than simply appease the Alterna-boomers: They're asking for attention, so lend them an ear.

Many numbers, such as the unbearably meandering No Christmas While I’m Talking, present themselves as merely background music - pleasant enough, sure, but doing little to draw the listener’s attention.

On The Water relies less on the vocals than its predecessor. The music is more robust, adding more layers than the minimalism of before.

It’s very ambitious but also very flawed, but moreover it’s great to hear him take all these risks.

Beyond the Door isn't without its filler (particularly on the back half) but considering how its 11 songs breeze by in around 30 minutes, the weaker songs are easy to shrug off and forget. It isn't one of those albums that finds the band pushing the limits of its riff-filled overdriven bubblegum pop, either, but it's just as satisfying as any of their other albums.

Loud Planes Fly Low has heart and soul to it, both very familiar with wells of confusion and despair; unfortunately, it's not the first heart and soul to chart these depths.

It does breeze on by without any major impact, but there’s a select number of pleasantly bittersweet cuts that are sure to liven up your afternoon commute for weeks on end.

People Problems is something the band can be proud of, and it's a great point to move forward from. It's not a breathtaking album, but in the end, it doesn't need to be.

Raw Money Raps plays out like an exhaustive thesis work on how to expertly handle the art of hip-hop sampling. It's really a treat that an artist like Jae is wise enough to spend most of his energy figuring out how to manipulate different sounds instead of writing himself up as the next cool, swaggering martyr.

It’s an arc that she manages to complete with her conceptual solo trilogy, and though the pop chart-minded songs devalue the album’s more adventurous pursuits, Richard is still devoted to push her art in new, unexplored directions.