The album has a conceptual and sonic unity that goes a long way to explaining its greatness: The Lioness isn’t a collection of songs, it’s a state of mind, or a state of the soul.

Put simply, CollectiV is a masterclass in supremely executed rock and roll.

Despite a miss or two, with Cows On Hourglass Pond Tare will likely appease even the most weary AnCo audiences, stringing together an album that is sonically ornate, scintillating, and poetically metaphysical.

It’s a piece of masterful craftsmanship tucked snugly into the singer-songwriter tradition, filled with country-soul ballads and grungy laments driven by jangly guitars, family band harmonies, rumbling pianos and cinematic string passages that should appeal broadly to fans of the genre without alienating his own die-hards.

The guitars and brass survive, but everything else is fresh.

This is an album that is full of glorious melodies, harsh noise and field recordings. Agora is the strongest, and most cohesive, album that Fennesz has released in over a decade, and that is no mean feat.

Some listeners will have been craving something more alienating to sink their teeth into, but what we actually have is an appetising, confident statement of intent from a band that want us to know that they are still a force in contemporary music.

It’s not a game-changer of an album, but the game is certainly changing and Apparat is playing for the right team.

Halo expertly shuffles musical microclimates like a card shark elbow greasing a three card molly hustle.

Basinski is a true master in the way he can overlay true emotion onto his subject matter, and there’s a sense of sadness for these black holes in their destruction and rebirth and the fabric of spacetime they tear apart within that. To close out with that sense of wonder and discovery relieves the weight of his material.

On the Line is yet another beautifully-realised and impeccably-delivered effort from a songwriter who revels and beguiles us from floorboards and pavements that few other songwriters would dream to tread.

Overall, this album isn’t bad, it’s very easy to listen to and it’s quite likeable with some beautiful moments. However, it doesn’t bring with it the life-altering, head-over-heels feeling that I’ve had before with previous BFL albums. Perhaps my expectations are too high but it would be great to see a bit more grit and energy for the next release.

Rather than thinking of Groove Denied as some form of outlier we should only be thinking of it for what it is: a delicious treat.

Topics like institutionalised evil, war and greed are always valid targets and The Coathangers go for the throat--and draw blood--pleasingly and memorably at every opportunity. This should be their moment of glory.

This is Foals at their best, and we're only seeing half of the picture.

The 19 songs form a 39-minute-long cohesive whole which looses its meaning once shuffled or reorganised. What could come across as a mash-up of jam sessions slowly reveals its internal coherence.

Imbued with a defiant refusal to succumb to external pressure or fall into the well-worn paths of similar artists who have trodden this road in the past, Sigrid has created a truly unique and recognisable debut record which I’m sure is a sign of spectacular things to come.

As a whole, perhaps unsurprising to those well-versed in the band’s skyscraping sonic feats, Electric Lady Sessions is an affecting appetiser with riveting moments strewn throughout the 12-song compilation.

With Compliments Please, Taylor reclaims the path that the industry had laid out for a pretty girl in an indie band--and she proves, with ample sauciness and class, that strong independent women aren’t just riding trends to cash out. This is metaphorical gold.

Reinforced by the layered repetition that comes with recording on tape, this album finds its grace by turning heartache into cheeky, fork-tongued refrains.

When they do finally depart after a handful of shows later this month, Woman's Hour find themselves in the fairly unique position of having a small but well formed catalogue of work that's near flawless. As a result, Ephyra is a fitting epitaph.

On Black they sound fully invested into exploring, and more than capable of handling, a new pop sound. This is a unique addition to Weezer’s discography that sees them preparing for the future, however bleak and overwhelming it might seem.

Occasionally, rarely, a record comes along that restores our faith. If this is the future of pop-music, then sign me up.

Yorkston feels like a man who genuinely does this, not for fame or money or even to send a message, but simply as catharsis and because it means something to him. The Route to Harmonium is another chance for us to share that with him.

This is a tremendously accomplished piece of work, but one lacking a little of the swagger of previous outings. Give it the time it deserves.

It’s hard to know whether he’s released the most cohesive, and immediate, collection of songs first, or as the series goes on it’ll get more abstract and ethereal. Either way this is an artist, and series of releases, to embrace and get excited about.

This is not background music to relax to, though there’s something undeniably calming in its beauty. It’s music to be consumed in, sink into its depths and float on its updrafts. To revel in its celebrations and mourn with its grief and feel all that it means to exist within universal existence. If that seems excessive, well sometimes hyperbole feels justified. Stop, listen and be in love with the world once again.

Abandoning the abstract art-rock ideals of experimentalism and pushing the rhythm section further out onto the dancefloor has resulted in a sweet spot for this type of storytelling. Still, this isn’t music to be taken in completely on the first listen. It’s eerie, complex, heart wrenching even.