Oozing more nihilistic youthful abandonment than anyone since Black Lips, their manifesto sounds pretty appealing from here.

Dutch Uncles’ third album is easily the Manchester band’s most accomplished effort to date.

As with Real Estate, producer Kevin McMachon has coaxed the wispy dreaminess of an excellent debut into a progressive, immersive successor.

Philippakis’s words are open and raw. As for their sound, it’s as vital and as fresh as ever.

Far-out, fascinating, fantastic--just plain F-ing good.

There's absolutely no attempt to innovate, but it's not a huge problem when the tunes are as sweetly and simply put together as this. [Jan 2013, p.62]

Over far too quickly, it's another near flawless record from the Manchester trio.

An album of chilly, detached beauty.

The studio remains the band's fourth member and their wind-tunnel intensity is a constant. The compositions are more focused this time round, however, while quiet-loud dynamic shifts are more arresting.

It's really bloody good.

That Christopher Owens' songs are so simultaneously vivid, immersive and indulgent is one thing, that he has crafted the character to execute them so expertly is quite another.

If a sense of staleness had begun to creep in round 2009's 'Popular Songs', Fade pretty much puts them back on track.

This sinister, skittering collection (recorded before the sad passing of singer Trish Keenan in 2011) is the perfect compliment to Peter Strickland's marvellous film.

Nocturne still treads the same paths, but it finds Tatum taking far bigger, more confident, strides.

A spectacular, modern take on a classic, timeworn formula.

The change becomes Pinback rather well, with newfound self-assurance adding warmth to their melodic nous: sweet and soulful.

The arrangements can be flabby, but what you'll hear at the heart of Carry On is the voice of one of music's great troubadours.

A joyous sense of imagination proves to be its own reward.

Errors have never sounded more magnificent.

Melody's magic combination of dreamy sonics and saccharine vocals is an inexorable pleasure.

There are times when all you need is a stompy bass drum to underpin a killer melody, and that's exactly what makes Beacon tick; nothing's overworked or overcomplicated.

This, their fourth full-length in as many years, proves the San Franciscans are a dependable force.

Deerhoof's eleventh album continues their long tradition of delighting and confounding in equal measure.

'Lost Souls' is so preposterously raucous it should have the record industry running scared at the point of a pitchfork.

An album that's sprinkled with magic.

The zingy, careening pop of 'Do The Right Thing', and the grandiose welterweight rock of 'Teenage Daughter' are their most effective communiqués.

As the title track gradually morphs from delicate ballad to fisherman shanty to blissful climax it's hard not to be awed, even if those casual listeners might not find much to keep them.

[Parts of the album are] bogged by balladry and at times blighted by tales that teeter on puerile, but this Nottingham scamp has got chops beyond his tender years.