Filled with experimental electronic goodness but maintaining a graspable simplicity throughout, Sleep Of Reason is a gorgeous and rewarding listen.

A People’s History of Gauche captures both the rotten societal traits and inspiring persistence that is often associated with people on the ground.

Witty, complex, and endlessly intriguing, Lust For Life is a painstakingly woven record from start to finish, with very few gripes.

While Dance on the Blacktop won’t mean everything to everyone, its considered construction, intriguing philosophising and plain old barbed-wire hooks mean it’s certain to mean everything to someone.

Gone are the days of Mokolo, but Take Her Up To Monto remains just as resilient; proving that Roisin Murphy’s productive world of pop madness has a rightful place in the present day.

While Spoon and Wolf Parade fans may be mourning during the hiatus of their favourite bands, this is a tasty release in the interim.

Its follow-up shows a more skilful outfit--it’s unmistakably Hinds, but souped up and more dynamic.

Never overstaying its welcome, and always intriguingly structured, the lights might have come up, but the Belfast duo want to remind us that the memories and communities aren’t going anywhere.

6 Feet Beneath The Moon broods, spits confidence and sits, thinks just as much.

Admittedly, her debut has been a bit of a long time coming--with last minute changes delaying until 2015--but with her songwriting already sounding accomplished and confident, it’s been time well spent.

Peckham three-piece Little Cub make electronic music with a human heart, Dominic Gore’s observant lyrics adding depth to the analogue synth lines and snapping beats that propel them.

Torn between old habits and a limber, more flexible stance, this fifth album stands as a misty mix of downtempo vibes with sombre, often questioning lyrics - Real Estate strike out here, thriving in the art of surprise and subversion.

There’s a deep hip hop pulse to many of the tracks, which sometimes transform themselves into jungle beats, usually accompanied by galactic synth stabs and waves of sound that transport the listener to a cosmic plane.

The Terror stares back at you like panicked faces underneath a frozen lake, visible, but distant. It’s giant metallic bugs filling an apocalyptic sky and blotting out a blood red sun.

A mish-mash of sounds, picked up magpie-style to create something which consistently skirts the line between warm and distant, familiar and disconcerting, hypnotic and, well, irritating.

Predictably, then, it's all too easy to 'find' (read: go searching for subconsciously or otherwise) shifts in the Welsh singer-songwriter's sound on this follow-up.

2014 saw many bands trying to recreate sounds of the past in their own way, but with Viet Cong, the band are remoulding genre conventions and confirming that they’re not settling for anything other than pushing the boundaries.

Equally, whilst there are no real lows on the album, the highs are equally not of the sky-scraping variety, ‘Let Go’ ending the album on a quiet if easily forgettable note.

Fast forward several years, and we find Will, her first record since 2013’s ‘Nepenthe’ both taking her music further into more straightforward terrain while remaining doggedly, indelibly weird.

The resulting back-and-forth between herself and Ellery - her honeyed tones set against his unmistakably raspy roars - is enthralling, and holds up regardless of musical backdrop. There’s low-key moments of genuine menace (‘Black Sun Rising’, the disquieting churn of ‘Serenity Says’) and some major key nods towards anthemic territory, too.

Contagious and sarcastic, in-your-face and self-aware yet ultimately all about cutting loose, Wavves have offered up an album that proves themselves as leaders in the punk pack.

Colourful, brilliantly messy, and a fully committed hodge-podge of psych and spacecake croons, ‘Awaken, My Love!’ is unlikely to shed further light on exactly what Childish Gambino is at heart, but by now, Glover’s erratic approach is surely part of his central appeal.

Whilst it's not the most cohesive electronic debut, there are some interesting ideas grounded in 'Order Of Noise' that are a jumping off point for Vessel's later material. This darker, more apocalyptic realm of electronic music is often cold and uninviting; sometimes that can work to its advantage but here, Gainsborough just falls short.

Dylan Baldi’s vocals are presented in a somewhat hushed manner, turning what could be a bona fide rock banger (there’s a pep in this chorus, to be sure) into an also-ran. On the numbers that more closely resemble the Cloud Nothings trademark sound - see the melodic ‘Mouse Policy’, or the bright ‘The Golden Halo’ - it’s an ideal fit.

This is a decent effort made frustrating by Segall’s prodigious talent.

The Savage Heart couldn't be more vital. What The Jim Jones Revue do is good. The way they do it is nothing short of brilliant.

What you’re left with is near 40 minutes of slow and sweaty seduction executed exquisitely by weeping guitar.

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.