What richly rewarding, flourishing, beautiful songs they are.

Beautiful Rewind is the sound of an artist looking to cut loose, and its playful spirit proves catching.

The rapid and rabid ‘You’ve Got Me Wonderin’ Now’, replete with wonky recorder, matches the velocity of that record [Light Up Gold], as does the hurtling ‘Descend (The Way)’.

For now it’s still deliciously entertaining.

The moments of clarity indicate a record that yearns for change.

One Breath lacks the overwhelming force of her earlier material, but given time it will surely burrow under your skin.

Basically, you can listen to all 11 tracks of This Is... Icona Pop and have a reasonable time, or you can put I Love It on repeat, forever, and have the time of your life.

Psychic is perfectly executed, impenetrable.

The juggernauting anthemia that has become their signature is upscaled for Reflektor, a wider-than-widescreen, 70-minute, two-disc odyssey.

There’s a sheen to much of Days Are Gone that can prevent you from delving further. But it’s a minor quibble on the whole, chiefly because the songs are strong enough to keep pulling you in for repeated listens, each hook burying itself deeper and deeper.

The Californians still play ethereal tunes that could waft on forever.

This is music that demands to be played loud, and often.

It is hard to care too much about something this safe.

London Grammar’s polished take on trip-hop is quietly dramatic, sometimes beautiful and well worth a listen.

This is as forceful, salacious and dangerous as they’re likely to get.

An unholy marriage of the brutal and the brilliant, fuelling suspicion that their best is yet to come.

It’s intimidating at first, but once your eyes acclimatise, you’ll relish joining them in the shadows.

while the likes of Animal Collective and Yeasayer can sound like they’re from other times, places and planets, Delorean sound more like they’re making music for a lacklustre university recruitment video.

Anger, bitterness and scorn spike the discomfiting atmosphere at every turn.

Listening to Babyshambles’ horrible third album is like being stuck on a roundabout with no exits.

This isn’t her masterpiece (that’s to come in the sixth and seventh suites), but it’s only a sliver away.

Beneath every stoner vocal or woozy guitar line there’s enough melodic nous to ensure Melbourne never wobbles too far into drug casualty territory.

It’s the romantic last dance of an album that shows that they’re still the same old Monkeys. Just dressed up slicker and sexier.

As closer ‘Black’ fades out, it’s clear MONEY have made something special and, maybe, even sacred.

The result is a collection of songs that really soar in a way that some previous material hasn’t.

While there are individual moments that are up there with the band’s best, Right Thoughts falls short of the return to form the opening tracks suggest.

Frankly, it’s a delightful, demented journey into pure psych chaos. Essential listening.

If you wanted a masterpiece, this isn’t it--it’s too long and stoned for that. Rather, it’s an invigorating, assertive and magical collection that’s probably cleverer than you are.