‘End of the Day’ feels like a long, slow goodbye to her old life; elegant and, given the context, elegaic.

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.

A mixed bag.

They may have left behind their haunted house roots, which might rub some people off the wrong way, but Chairlift have found themselves creating something far more barmy, bold and exhilarating than ever before.

You're left with an album that would be great fun live but needs reining on record.

This occasional, kind of ironic lack of restraint makes some of the blackened themes of Choir of the Mind even more oddly oppressive, even if Emily’s melodies are often spacious and airy. When it gets its balance perfectly poised though, it’s an album that can be engaging and emotionally-charged.

Loma Vista is a ultimately an immediately enjoyable, if easily forgettable album, far too one-sided for its own good, and more a showcase of a band who are capable of writing a handful of very good pop songs, but not an album worthy of any longevity.

The only thing holding the album, and the band, back from being outstanding is the lack of obtuse moments; as at points the piano/electronic drums/synth combo can wear a little thin.

They’ve taken the strengths of ‘Teen Dream’ and ‘Bloom’--reaching pop highs with ease--before being deceptive like it’s some kind of game. It’s not unfamiliar in the good sense, and it’s an odd outlier in an otherwise brilliant back-catalogue.

Too often, Disclosure find themselves playing it safe.

It takes no prisoners musically or lyrically. And, despite the exasperation which the album channels, the tracks never feel too dark and this is largely, in part to the warmth which hides below the rage in Mac McCaughan’s delivery, along with the guitars which remain defiantly loud.

These huge, glorious, shining songs--are a step in the right direction.

Sure, it loses its way about two-thirds through via the meandering ‘Every Guy Wants To Be Her Baby’ and ‘Memories’, but there’s always the suggestion that it’s sort of the point.

While not exactly the wildlife-soundtracking level of Nan-friendly safe his day job has reached, it’s largely default Jónsi, just with a few more effects.

It’s immensely enjoyable, but almost leaves a sense of guilt, because of how light-hearted it makes an attitude bordering on misanthropy seem.

The first half is exciting, accomplished and compelling--but then it wanders absent-mindedly into nondescript territory after the midway point and doesn't navigate its way back home.

‘Deep States’ provides, perhaps unsurprisingly, a difficult listen at times, weighed down as it is by its overwhelming lyrical bluster. Penultimate track ‘Legal Ghosts’ is however an unexpected moment of melodic tenderness - this elusive tale of loss revealing a soft underbelly beneath this otherwise bristly, tough-skinned offering.

As a starting point, So It Goes is a damn fine one.

There are songs here that will stand with some of Ezra Furman’s best work (“I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend” and “Calm Down”) but sometimes its rapid-fire pace makes you wish for that little bit more space.

There’s no doubt that the record’s production is second to none and Garratt’s talent is as obvious as an Uber driver’s Sat Nav, but his USP is somewhat dimmed by hours and hours of carefully chosen layers, vocals and everything else in between.

A thick as muck yet intelligent pop album.

There is a willful lack of originality on the album in so much as at times it has such a faithful synth-pop sound that you'd be forgiven for thinking it's a 1980s reissue.

A clear adoration for 90s bands doesn’t stop Return to Love from being an extremely strong album from 2016, and an undoubted step up.

There are occasional flashes of brilliance and inspiration here but for the most part it feels disjointed, a victim of 'too many cooks' syndrome and disappointingly conventional for an artist with such a proven track record for forward-thinking music.

Foo Fighters’ ninth is, then, more interesting than one might’ve expected.

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.

None of this feels enough to truly deserve that futuristic tag, but maybe this new set-up just needs time to find their own MO? In the meantime, we’ve got another great single to add to that hypothetical greatest hits.

The idea behind Quazarz is indeed fascinating, and could have been a unique way of talking about the modern social and political climate. Unfortunately, sometimes it feels like the quest for a particular vibe has sometimes been prioritised over the underlying message.

Ultimately, it is very, very hard to dislike Hour Of The Dawn.

We’re not asking Whitney to soundtrack a raging rebellion, we just want them to make us feel things. Forever Turned Around only partly succeeds.

His current tactic of quantity at the price of quality control does mean songs with less impact end up on record.

Its wares pick up where its predecessor left off but without adding too much extra to the mix.

Ultimately, this is the sound of a group looking back at what they’ve achieved individually in order to get that chemistry churning again.

Slick production and a consistency in sound may make for easy listening but if you pay too much attention it all starts to sound a bit contrived and cheesy.

While opener ‘Name For You’ is catchy, and album highlight ‘Rubber Ballz’ is a foot-stomping earworm, Heartworms largely represents a loss of ambition.

Whether down to Erika’s understated vocal, or the shallow pool from which many of the musical textures come, things do elsewhere get a little samey. A shame, as ‘Sensational’ starts so bright.

Perhaps not perfect, but a recovery position from which Two Door Cinema Club look primed to soar once more.

Alexis Taylor’s discovery and consequent understanding of the importance of religion and its expansive scriptures are well captured in this reflective release.

An album which blurs the line between retro and futuristic techno, yet always with an analogue soul.

‘Drop Cherries’ may be a soothing depiction of a relationship’s simple moments, but this simplicity does leave the listener wanting more, and its poignancy often lacks any punch.

It is fair to say that the album is missing hooks; it is a difficult listen and the tracks’ sparseness renders them similar. But, when the sound is so spine-tinglingly moving, that’s not too much of a problem.

It may be easy to enjoy at the time, but this third full-length leaves no lasting impression.

Expectations [are] built by her collaborators - who aided artists like Dua and Kylie in carving revered pop niches - weigh detrimentally on the record: it doesn’t push itself nearly as far. Yet, undeniably, it’s a dependable, invigorating debut.

There’s a decidedly different tone to proceedings. World Peace is None of Your Business feels infinitely more concise, and musically more defined.

The Leeds-based group’s long-delayed debut might not offer much in variety (in short, if you’re into a combination of those groups’ [Gengahr, Bombay Bicycle Club or alt-J] sounds, you’re going to love it), but in our current long, dark winter nights there’s a nostalgic tint to the songs on offer, whether the bassy synths of the title track, or folky ‘Smorgasbord’ that hits right in the warm and fuzzies.

‘graves’ may not be a huge musical departure, but it’s a sign Purity Ring still have ideas left in them yet.

For the most part the Angels charitably continue to breath life into a ragged genre with a looseness and playfulness that belies their serious business name.

Although still predominantly an instrumental album, there is substance enough on Breaks & Bone both musically and lyrically to reward those with the patience to persevere through the dense nature of the guitarist’s work and carefully unfurl its emotional layers to reveal a world of unhurried peacefulness.

It's pleasantly pristine stuff from the still relative newcomer.

It’s not a record that jumps out on the first listen, but The Unseen In Between works as an effective relaxant.

Club Meds is precise, mature and brooding, and despite the tendency to layer noises and experiment--most notably on the largely forgettable ‘War Spoils’--is at its best when closer to Mangan’s folk-based home.

A transitional work perhaps, but whichever fork in the road he follows next, you feel he’ll continue to adapt.

On ‘Baw Baw Black Sheep’, Rejjie Snow reaches for a more conceptual take on his laid-back sound, but stumbles on the execution.

Nevertheless for all the mature restraint and consummate mastery it can be hard not to miss the sheer energy and fury of previous albums, the restless experimentation.

Medicine is an album that baffles just as much as it thrills.

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

Across its 14 tracks, Silver Dollar Moment rarely deviates from the same emotional note throughout. Leaving off ‘Sugar…’ also feels criminal.

A bit of a mixed bag.

Each track here, from the Argentinian horns and swaggering funk of ‘Angels / Your Love’ to the offbeat drumming and joyous vocals (courtesy of soul legend Charles Bradley) on ‘Grant Green’, it’s like a meticulously stitched patchwork of musical discovery.

There's a certain urgency lacking to 'Kill My Blues' - Tucker seems determined to tap in to a certain rage and angst, yet still manages to sound rote and homogeneous.

While Untogether is immaculately put together, it does take a while to cross over and connect with you.

This is handsome, but not essential.

The tracks are less punchy than before and perhaps more subdued, though this is the sort of music that needs to be immersed in and often takes time to truly appreciate.

The eight-minute sprawl of ‘Don’t Blame Yourself’, too, is wildly self-indulgent and could have had at least a couple of minutes lopped off. Ultimately, though, he sounds rejuvenated on Star Stuff, and that bodes well for whatever he has lined up next.

Perhaps this a record that works better under the summer sun, but right now Ride Your Heart doesn’t sound much more than a showcase for surfy style and lo-fi charm.

Overgrown demonstrates that for all Blake's myriad talents as a producer he still isn't able to carve a great song out of a simple idea.

The result is a consistently textured record, with beautifully integrated strings.

It's nice, if a little lightweight.

ISM have stepped away from the traditional Ibibio folk tales that formed the lyrics for much of their debut album, instead relying more on English lyrics and universal themes. Only ‘She Work Very Hard’ displays the kind of storytelling that made those songs so intriguing, and it’s here where the boundaries between tradition and future are most blurred.

Chelsea Light Moving should feel like a tired hashing-over of sonic tropes, considering what a prolific career the front man's had. But it doesn't; it's a lively, noisy semi-resurrection.

Flickering and darting across a vast sonic plane, the album is a worthwhile expedition and an interesting re-imagining of the past propelled into the future.

Despite the missteps it’s What the World Needs Now’s ability to sound energised and fresh which makes it an album that you can’t dismiss.

Their knack for incredible hooks is still there (see ‘Holiday’, the very definition of an earworm), but the effortless fun seems to have fallen by the wayside.

There’s a minimalism in places here that even ardent fans might find a touch disappointing given how predisposed she normally is to extrapolating on her ideas. In fairness, though, the whole point of Documents is to capture the sound of a band, still hot from the road, bringing that energy to the studio. In the Same Room delivers.

It’s a mostly successful and far more mature record; it just has to be seen as a more grown-up Anthems for Doomed Youth rather than the anthems from doomed youth that they previously brought.

Although the lyrical themes aren’t necessarily treading new ground--and at times sound feel more 1970s than 2010s--New View is the most self-assured realisation of the Friedberger’s delicately eloquent and intelligent musical talent.

While Life Among the Savages lacks the absolute highs of Quever’s previous work, it also lacks any lows, except for possibly the abrupt ending which leaves you longing for more.

It’s not an immediate album, but give a little time for the scattershot approach to sink in and moments of genius gradually reveal themselves.

It’s still immersive music for thinking and reflecting. It might lack it’s ‘Red Eyes’ but this record is filled with enough to satisfy any existing fans.

A record that does the musical equivalent of wrapping its arms around your body and giving you a nice, warm hug.

The Waiting Room is reserved and considered, yet you still come out of the other end feeling like you’ve run the emotional gamut; in that respect, at least, you have to recognise it as Staples’ strongest set of songs for a good long while.

RY X is a talented guy with a singular vision, but Unfurl's title is misleading--it’s a little too tentative to have fully done so.

An swirling, abstract painting of an album, and an eclectic slow burner, Painted Ruins serves more as a fascinating indication of where Grizzly Bear could head next than anything else.

With the few songs that feature the vocal backing of Condon the fullness that immediately hits the ear makes me realise that introducing another voice or even another medium to the mix would enhance the listening experience of this album by at least 75%.

Overall, it’s hard to escape the sense that the concept behind the record has played to its favour in some parts and gone against it in others; this is, therefore, not even close to being the most balanced Sweet Baboo effort to date.

Kirk's irresistible vocals lend the album all the quality it needs, and their lighter touches and some inspired choices really add depth to the monochromatic and claustrophobic formula.

This is a maddened work that deals with its own conscience; a debut grappling with heavy topics and conquering them.

Overwhelmingly luscious at times, Range Of Light is a record that musically embodies the art of escapism, even if that does means evading even the consciousness of its listeners from time to time.

They’ve still yet to find that album that feels complete. While their eighth album, Wallop, isn’t quite it, it’s the closest they’ve been for quite a while.

As impressively considered as the group are when it comes to their compositions, they evoke a cold feeling of invulnerability within their music that’s hard to avoid.

Given that the various members of Hot Chip have various side-hustles and secondary creative outlets, it’s a little surprising how much of ‘Freakout / Release’ sounds quite this forced.

It's good--but not great.

Ruminations feels like a comedown as such. His first solo album since 2014 ‘Upside Down Mountain’ features only Oberst, a piano, an acoustic guitar and the occasional flash of harmonica. It’s possibly his most reflective, nostalgic work yet.

[The album] is essentially a standard Mark Lanegan Band release.

They do truly make a beautiful noise together. That said, vocals can't account for everything and, in an album so marked by its makers' laryngeal input, it seems as though the rest got a little neglected.

For every track that falls short, there is another where they hit a sweet spot.

Powell’s music is for sweaty, unconcerned nights of utter debauchery--the kind of whirlwind Saturday night where there’s no way you’re getting home until at least midday. This makes listening to the album as a whole a frankly exhausting experience.

Put it all together, and listening to Savoy Motel’s debut in its entirety can leave you struggling, wondering if you’ve accidentally left the album on loop and yearning for something--anything9--that doesn’t begin with a bassline boogie.