[Your] chances of finding a more assured and promising debut this year are pretty slim.

From the outset, it is clear that this album is a triumph.... An album of great beauty, potential and emotional involvement.

Unconventional harmonies and slurred vocals are an acquired taste, and some of the more out-there lyrical moments might bemuse you first time round, but give it a chance.

Not only are the songs uniformly excellent, they also show a mastery of the art of controlled dynamics, of tension and release, that most young bands ignore to pursue the catharsis of sustained intensity.

Bits of Medulla sound similar to Vespertine, but there’s a marked distinction in the means of delivery and enough change to keep things interesting.

The tracks highlighting Vik are showstoppers as usual, and his dominate wordplay only reiterates why others should drop the mic when any of DOOM’s personas enter the booth.

Although Kiss and Tell doesn’t quite match the dizzy heights of its major influences, it is without a doubt Sahara Hotnights’ finest album to date.

In Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts, M83 have created an ethereal electronic masterpiece, and one which, thankfully, doesn't sound like a relic from the Warp Records back catalogue.

There’s just so much going on throughout that you can’t stop listening.

The Heat doesn’t offer a dramatic change from its predecessor stylistically.... What it does have is more energy, better material and more focus.

Definitely mysterious, but the songs on this record are obvious when it comes to the Concretes’ influences.

This Icelandic association seems to have triggered a benign crisis in Jimmy Lavalle's composition gland and stimulated his transformation from a major key minor artist to a minor key major artist in the course of this one volume.

Ta Det Lugnt is that rare joy, a work of art that both demands and rewards your attention.

Sonic Nurse could be the best guitar rock album since, well, Murray St.

Both pared down and unengaging at the same time, this appears to be a dead end.

They write some good tunes, and they have some appropriately strident abuse for lyrics. But there’s not enough for an album.

It’s unfortunate that the familiar sound of some of these tracks, the nagging suspicion that you heard this once before, is always hiding in the background, because there’s worthy enough material here.

Although it’s good stuff, there are few innovations here, and while the simplicity is welcome, you may not always notice that there’s an album playing.

In their insistence on trying to mix quirky, quiet electronica with beer-swilling pop, without the two informing each other, Athlete too often fall into a formulaic and predictable model.

Occasionally sounding like an air-raid in progress, as in 1956 And All That, Mclusky fortunately prove to be more than a one trick pony by the time grinding, pulsing closer Support Systems draws to an end.

Despite occasional moments of album filler, Delays have still given us an album with at least three slices of timeless pop.

Largely magnificent.

But, and here's the catch, at times the arrangements just don't cut it.

Tres Cosas does then what all good third albums should do – it takes the best bits from her earlier works, perfects the model, and then goes a little bit further.

A work of art, slightly rough around the edges and a little makeshift, but tremendously beautiful all the same.

Make no mistake: it may be a good two decades late, but ONoffON is the follow-up that Vs. has always cried out for. And as a result, it’s one of the finest records I’ve heard all year.

This is not for all tastes. Slow, broody, experimental.

The first five tracks are some of the rawest the nine-man conglomerate has ever served. But this all transpires within the first fifteen minutes of the disc. From there Pretty Toney takes a few ugly turns.