Sure, with ‘This Is Really Going To Hurt’, Flyte have successfully echoed the sounds of the past, but it’s all about as paper-thin as a yellow-hued Instagram filter.

‘Light Years Out’ is an ill-advised journey into electro-funk territory but overall, ‘Names of North End Women’ is an interesting work that shows Ranaldo has retained all his youthful capacity for innovation and experimentation.

It doesn’t quite match the intensity and impact of his debut.

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.

The songs here mostly lack the sonic power and impact of those on its predecessor, but they do accomplish the not inconsiderable task of making Sean’s angular guitars sit alongside Pascal Stevenson’s synths congruously on tracks like ‘Ego’ and ‘Keep Out’. Post-punk bands of various eras have transitioned to new wave over the course of three or four albums, but Moaning have done that with just two.

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

The lack of time taken for ii to form itself--no weeks off to go back and reconsider minor changes, no reigning in the level of experimentation--gives the album the feel of a jam, but without falling into an undefinable mess.

An enigma made by a puzzle, ESTOILE NAIANT is as compelling and as unusual as the musician who refuses to tell you his name or show you his face.

Caramel is certainly a strange album, but it’s not alienating or difficult to engage with.

This is an album with ambition; a sonically sweeping piece of work with big themes and big ideas that can overwhelm you. Just let nature take its course.

Just like humanity’s primordial obsession with fire, Sky Swimming is difficult to disengage with.

This album may declare itself a painting--and an intense one, at that--but there’s a much bigger picture to see here.

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.

With just about enough sonic variation to keep things interesting, there’s a more pristine, altogether more polished feel to this collection of tracks no doubt the result of an artist who’s getting closer to refining their craft.

Despite opener 'Shape' being a colossal Bjork channelling beauty that comes close to breaking point, the bulk of Interiors is restless but unassuming.

Channelling zeitgeisty pop is by no means always a bad thing; but when omitting the earwormy choruses it needs - and removing your own personality in the process, it’s only ever going to fall a bit limp.

This album should plant El Khatib as someone to keep a close watch on. For now though, there’s still room for him to grow--another trip to the desert awaits.

After a debut that spent much of its time slinking like crawlers out in the shadows, it’s intriguing--if slightly disconcerting--to see Purity Ring in a warmer light.

Good Grief marks an important next step in the realisation of their sassy pop character.

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.

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

Phoned-in and simplistic, it’s hard to decipher when one track ends and another begins.

As far as debuts go, the Sydney trio have made a solid first step here. They’ve got half the job worked out in spades. Now, they just need to work on making it memorable.

These songs [The Trapper and the Furrier, Tornadoland, and Obsolete] are, ironically, more cinematic than anything found on her last album ‘What We Saw From The Cheap Seats,’ and that sense of drama helps make Remember Us To Life a return to form.

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.

Unfortunately, although that slight detachment feels pretty good in the midst of listening, much like tucking into an ice cream cone with more than a few sprinkles, you might get brain freeze trying to recall some of the tunes afterwards.

The supergroup’s self-titled record might feature the dirty rock of the former and the latter’s penchant for synth-led tangents, but by each party’s style rubbing off on the other, they’ve also sanded them down.

Earth might be musically faultless, but it lacks the bite of his day job.