Time away hasn’t dulled No Age’s musical sword--they’re sharper and brighter than ever.

While Freedom’s Goblin doesn’t exactly blow the doors off of his usual sound, it’s a solid addition to the canon that rattles between all corners of this self-made niche.

With Hold On To Your Heart the trio have crafted another bold and brilliant album which soars higher than ever before.

It still has the eccentricities that make them such an intriguing band, but without compromising on these elements Tune-Yards have still made their most accessible, danceable and thought-provoking album to date.

Semicircle won’t seem like a giant leap for the band but is yet another upbeat, buoyant addition to their canon, injected with an even greater sense of community spirit.

The power and ferocity with which they do so across the album--as well as its rollocking instrumentation and clear social conscience--makes it a triumph.

There’s a lot to like on Cohen’s debut, and plenty to suggest a follow-up could soar to far greater heights, but not enough to suggest a commercial breakthrough could be on the cards.

Overall The Moral Crossing reveals an evolution for the Leeds five-piece. A more textured album than their first which sees them juxtapose the darkness with the light, both through cathartic lyricism but also through a higher confidence and ability to experiment which the freedom of your own studio must bring.

Messy in its execution, and lacking in simplicity, No_One Ever Really Dies isn't nearly as profound as it thinks it is.

QTY is as timeless, compelling and clever as you could hope for first time round.

There are times, however, when the mix doesn’t quite lend Björk’s message enough power. ... For the most part, Utopia sounds like an album where she’s followed her own advice. It demonstrates how the Icelandic alt-pop legend has pushed past her own emotional turmoil, taking yet another step in her ever-evolving saga, one that sets a path for future endeavours.

Blue Lips isn’t perfect; it has a predilection towards being over produced. Thematically, though, her honesty about her imperfections is what makes all so irresistible.

Delicate, enchanting, and altogether intangible, Memory Of A Cut Off Head is a venture into the unexpected.

This record does have its moments, though any instances of real connection are a notable rarity.

The record is a first full effort bustling with ideas, characterised by the dual voices of Sean Armstrong and Jack Mellin. Sean’s voice is a tender, swaying one, while Jack packs more punch, and brings urgent stabs of guitar.

It doesn’t feel any more disciplined or carefully-crafted than the experimental ‘Frost God’ did, but Yung Lean does continue to push the boundaries--which is precisely what brought him to public attention in the first place.

Filled with polyrhythms and squalling synths designed to get people on the dancefloor, it’s sometimes impossible to remain rooted in your seat. The drawback of this focus on the high-energy though, is that it can get a little wearing.

1982 appears slight on first glance, but it’s packed with so many lasting melodies and shifts in tone and dynamics that it winds up being a much richer project than its 38-minute run time may initially suggest.

The sound of an artist creatively re-energised, this is a revelation in all senses of the word.

The Dusk in Us was whittled down to thirteen tracks from eighteen and there remains a little bit of extraneous material, particularly towards the album’s close, and that uneven pacing suggests a touch of rust after so long away--‘All We Love We Leave Behind’ felt more tightly controlled.

The sense of optimism is infectious, and even with plenty of stiff competition for the title, The Endless Shimmering might be the year’s most exhilarating post-rock album.

Without any real substance to the lyrics, these soft, earnest, mild guitar songs come across like their author has grossly overestimated their depth. The album as a whole sounds like fourteen-year-old boyfriend music.

Milano doesn’t come with the cinematic sensibilities or the polish that ‘Rome’ did, but its sheer boisterousness and rough-and-ready sonic approach does justice to the underground movement that it aims to serve as homage to.

Permission to sprinkle Big Sounds over their insta-recognisable songwriting might not have been something they’d allow themselves in the past, but here it transforms what could’ve easily been ‘churning out more of the same’ into 21st Century alt-pop bangers.

Glasshouse isn’t exactly groundbreaking. It could also do with being about half its mighty 17-track length.

While Ken is more accessible than its predecessor it seems unlikely to affect the Vancouver musician’s cult name status.

With the world often seeming like a bleakly real episode of Black Mirror these days, Losing--a record that expresses the paralysing feeling of helpless that comes from watching it all unfold--is both timely and cathartic.

That’s definitely not to say that the more languorous tracks don’t have their beautiful moments, with the likes of ‘Lonely Blue’ and ‘Sublunary’ providing an emotional apex to the album. As it draws on though, it gets easier to think that a bit of brutality on the cutting room floor might only have been of benefit to The Ooz.