This incarnation of the band is a mix of middle-of-the-road indie (Purple Yellow Red And Blue sounding like a Jamiroquai B-side) and unforgettable pop gems.

Though not the classic he threatens to create, Born Sinner remains intelligent, middle-classy mainstream hip hop, a cut above the dumb shit that dominates the genre in 2013.

While not a party album like previous releases, Modern Vampires… is, without doubt, Vampire Weekend’s most accomplished record yet.

Beneath the surface, the band has used its infectious music and detailed storytelling to explore some much darker concepts. It’s a captivating album that deserves closer inspection.

While offering consistently pleasant and dreamy summer-tinged tunes, Smith Westerns will not blow minds with Soft Will, and could have afforded a few more risks in songwriting and arrangement.

These New Puritans have made something original, daring and deeply expressive, and suffice to say, you really need to listen to it.

That’s The Bellrays – an uncompromising force, unwilling to kowtow to fads and trends, only aiming to rock and/or roll.

Leto has aimed far too high with this one, and clearly forgotten the art of subtlety.

The slightly raspy waver in David Bridie’s voice provides a feeling of distant heat haze and space that marks some of the best Australian music.

Obsidian sounds like Wiesenfeld crying while drunk and half-submerged in a bathtub of cold water, but he actually makes it sounds sexy.

What we have here is the perfect recipe for yet another summery lo-fi bedroom-pop record.

Powerfully sexual and fuzzed out 40 minutes of blues punk rock’n’roll.

This is not the Sigur Rós of old.

Crystal Fighters’ music may not necessarily challenge listeners, but it certainly is creative and flippantly gratifying.

This debut is polished, with a collection of those magic moments of whimsy and temperament that will soon enough set them apart from the pack.

Heart Of Nowhere is like an ‘80s Cosby sweater: a little dated and daggy, but still warm and comforting.

The Juggers have always sounded on the verge of making a really great record, but they still haven’t quite hit it yet.

Delta’s experimentation would be irrelevant if the band had delivered sufficiently crafted songs. Unfortunately, everything feels half-complete and slapped together.

That the scope of observation is so narrow, Men Of Substance’s impact is instantly limited as much as, say, a semi-decent Christmas album.

Fanning is no stranger to success and failure and this album sees him back on track with an album he obviously has enjoyed recording. Whether the songwriter finally makes a mark overseas is another question.

Give me another thousand words and I still couldn’t fully explain what these albums mean to me and many others. Just be glad they exist.