‘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.