Too often inaudible, the band’s uncathartic noise can still test patience as well as nerves.

Whilst Hegarty's extended speech in 'Future Feminism' fails to grasp wholly, (but will probably fill a void in your pseudo-intellectual appetite), the collection as a whole is an impressively captivating soundscape.

The raspy sonics can’t mask some of their most shrug-worthy songs to date.

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

White Denim continue to teeter there.

An album of controlled explosions that reclaims rock for the oldies and gives the kids something to mosh to.

O'Brien's voice is beautiful and his songwriting often adventurous, but there are times when the aim isn't as true as it could be.

So with their fourth LP, where they burst from the tracks with peppy numbers like ‘Holy’ and Biffy-esque choruses on ‘The Woodpile’, it’s a mite disappointing.

Be Strong is funny, innovative, uplifting and, most importantly, always fun.

It's audaciously hit and miss, inevitably, but 'Out Of The Game' is anything but shy and retiring.

When the wrecking ball stops swinging, however, there are moments of emotional weightiness ('Leader Of The Pack') and glimpses of tenderness ('End Of The Line') that give this LP a more human edge.

A quantum leap it ain't--and Glass could do with putting her fangs back in--but (III) has just enough up its sleeve to keep Crystal Castles on track.

'Never' walks a fine line between experimental and exasperating.

A peculiar unwillingness to climax is something that many Shearwater records have suffered with over the years, and Animal Joy is unfortunately no exception.

It's enough to hold the interest, although we'd prefer Alabama Shakes to capitalise on their more esoteric elements and cut out the cliches.

Samantha Crain’s debut seems inextricably tied to that spirit [of alt. country], with its simple melodic warmth trumping contemporary notions of waistcoat-wearing ‘authenticity’.

Grand and grizzling, 'Gossamer' begs for adoration, but too often leaves an uncomfortably bittersweet aftertaste.

Though the grappling guitars of 'Riot In My House' wouldn't seem out of place on an MC5 album, Blues Funeral doesn't always kick out the jams.

An accomplished, repeatable debut.

More often than not Stasia Irons and Cat Harris-White get bogged down in a psychedelic maze, struggling to get their intelligent and issue-led rhymes heard above distracting production.

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

The Kasabian-ish 'Danny Come Inside', with its predatory stride, and the tautly atmospheric 'Had It Coming' are rallying gear shifts; disappointingly, the remainder of 'Milk Famous' seems to be on cruise control.

As engaging as an album of mood swings can be.

So, all in all: not a bad album, but most of the time it’s more harmless midge than lethal mosquito.

Throughout, Niblett’s lonesome, PJ Harvey-like voice and grunge-bitten guitar are central, while disorientating snare cracks serve to underline her forlorn tales of domestic crises.

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

It's slicker than anything Katy's done before – maybe not as long-term-lovable, but certainly worth living with for a while.

A strange, interesting, occasionally brilliant album.