Far from daft, Tomorrow’s Harvest is a psycho-spiritual stormer.

It’s not perfect--‘Grab Her’ and ‘Stimulation’ both outstay their welcome and the glitchy ‘Second Chance’ feels like it’s from a different album--but it’s a consistently thrilling debut.

Don’t Forget is just possible to enjoy. But only in mod-eration, of course.

These songs are all excellent, and if the album had maintained that level of consistency it might have shaded into genius, but sadly the rest falls short, frequently lapsing into a pleasant but slight flexing of Thundercat’s considerable chops.

As far as second albums go, this is quite brilliant--enough of a departure to render it excitingly fresh, yet still tinged with all the bleeps, pulses and slides that put the magic in Magic Arm the first time of asking.

It’s the longest and best Laura Marling record yet.

It’s a sensory experience throughout.

Throughout, Niblett’s lonesome, PJ Harvey-like voice and grunge-bitten guitar are central, while disorientating snare cracks serve to underline her forlorn tales of domestic crises.

Nostalgic, positive and romantic, it pumps new warmth into Copenhagen’s cold and concrete punk movement.

Whilst often brilliant, Crawling makes you wonder why Pure X have swapped pleasure for pain.

Secondhand Rapture feels overlong, hampered by a lyrical palette that seems to mirror the relationship struggles of a Twilight film.

More Light is prosaic, but also proof that when you want to rally a new generation, it’s not Marcus Mumford you want holding the megaphone.

Not a great leap forwards, then, but a welcome throwback nonetheless.

In the end, it’s all a little too demure to really shout out loud about.

Though Modern Vampires Of The City is flawed--there’s no stand-out single, and the low-key ‘Obvious Bicycle’ is far too sombre to justify its billing as the opening track--repeat listens to this third act are rewarded.

It is violently un-confrontational, startlingly uninventive and no fun whatsoever.

The raspy sonics can’t mask some of their most shrug-worthy songs to date.

The suave Londoner’s debut is a deeply ridiculous affair, but something about his Cave-meets-Cohen shtick endears.

A complete lack of compromise anywhere. Yet, whilst that means that it takes a few listens for the intricacies to fully come through (alongside stormy brooder ‘Strife’, early single ‘Husbands’ is still the most sonically independent offering here), it fundamentally endows the record with a clarity of vision that justifies all the hyperbole.

Though Brightest Darkest Day isn’t a world-changer, you have to admire this pair’s indisputable dynamism.

It’s a pitching and yawing listen, and it’s compelling and punchy in a way that’ll have you bouncing straight out of your chair.

So, all in all: not a bad album, but most of the time it’s more harmless midge than lethal mosquito.

An intimate and very British release to cherish and hold close; it also happens to be one of the year’s best so far.

He’s absorbed new influences into the unique framework he creates around his songs, pulling in aspects of house, gospel and R&B to create something alluringly strange yet pleasingly palpable.

Despite its length and moments of lyrical self-loathing, Wakin' neither bores nor depresses.

While some of the abstract material here is frustratingly opaque, how many other ‘pop’ acts can you name that would have the brass cojones to drop a near 20-minute track right in the middle of their record? Astonishing.

It doesn’t quite rank alongside their very strongest material, but there are still more rippling vocal harmonies and gutting one-liners than most bands could be proud of in a lifetime.

By turns, If You Leave is word-in-the-ear intimate and mountain-range massive.