With frantic whip-crack beats, chirruping synths and a booming 'no messing' baritone, the NYC duo's anti-authority anthems rage against the hypocrisy.

Constantly exhilarating, it's a sensory obliteration that proves that now, more than ever, APTBS are much more than just noise.

Whatever their reference points, Friends always end up sounding like Friends: now but new wavey, cool but catchy, spare but packed with odd sonic squiggles.

One Day finds Rowland weary, woozy and nakedly accepting of loneliness and age; a true soul man.

[WIXIW is] dizzying, discordant and heavily rhythmic, as Andrew, Hemphill and Gross weave found sounds, freaky fragments of melancholy off-kilter melody, spiralling keyboard motifs, flurries of strings and distorted vocals and riffs through electronics that crunch and crack like shattered glass.

Bookended by snippets of crackling fireworks, the aptly-titled 'Celebration Rock' is big on anthems, euphoria and fistpumping rock'n'roll thrills.

We know a damn good noise rock debut when we hear one.

Inconsistency's a little too much the watchword, but there are none more Something For Everyone.

This second album is exciting rather than essential, but if it's blown-out ears you want, PS I Love You oblige in style.

Moments of cringe-worthiness aside, album two rejoices in TTT's expansive and elaborately emotional ballads.

'Here Come The Bombs' is a sublime first solo effort.

'A Different Ship' is a magnificent return.

'Walk The River' is defiantly sky-punching stuff, chipping away at its own corner of neoclassicism between latter-day Pulp and late-80s Tears For Fears and displaying not only an excess of soaring Dangerfield vocals but also plenty of roaring guitars...and deftly-exploring haunt-pop suss.

Hawley ditches his heavily orchestrated, Indie Orbison Of The North shtick in favour of a sound that's darker, ragged and riff-heavy. It works.

A comforting return to the hazy psychedelia and laconic 1960s bohemia of prime BJM, only now with added eastern twinges.

In The Belly Of The Brazen Bull is honest, sweaty and delirious.... Their most exciting album yet.

Essentially, Crybaby is an album that achieves exactly what it set out to do.

Their minimalist throb is challenging at first, yet allowing the likes of 'Brains' and 'Propagation' to seep in is to be submerged in an invigoratingly ballsy album.

Their boldest and most fantastically frisky record to date.

From the moment jumpy, garagepop opener 'Falcon Eyed' trapezes towards you, it's clear that Cate Le Bon is in carnival spirits throughout her second LP.

[Once Krug's genius is realized by the world] then riches untold will pile up and allow him to do nothing but make albums like 'Heartbreaking Bravery'.

[Their] slightly-off-kilter lyrical slant is probably the most remarkable thing about Evans The Death's Echobelly familiar indie.

The potential for unfocused drudgery could've been huge, but they've sidestepped far enough to create an involving and endearingly creepy work.

It's an album that reels you in, enveloping everything in a black mist, from the slick protestations of 'Dark Star' to the surging intensity of closer 'Leading To Death'.

Grips you like summer flu.

'Blunderbuss'' weaknesses are diminished by moments of sheer greatness.

Copious candid personal insights are shared with the gravitas of Johnny Cash over a bit of blues here, a fleck of folk there, and country stylings aplenty.

One of the most brilliantly chaotic, mesmerising albums you'll hear all year.