first single “Carry Me” and opener “Overdone” show Bombay Bicycle Club getting newly aggressive, where they just want to express their joy in discovering different forms of sonic expression.

The pummelling drum track of “Overdone” would’ve been ear-turning enough, but the title becomes a wink as the band piles on battling countermelodies, percussive synths, staggered drops and octave-shifted guitars. Meanwhile, “Carry Me” boasts the closest thing to a guitar riff, but it sounds more like a trombone over an impossibly jerky, inhuman rhythm, imagining Hidden-era These New Puritans as flower children rather than warmongers.

As a whole, perhaps unsurprising to those well-versed in the band’s skyscraping sonic feats, Electric Lady Sessions is an affecting appetiser with riveting moments strewn throughout the 12-song compilation.

The real remuneration will of course be another American Dream caliber album of original songs; hopefully the evident fun the band had at Electric Lady recording this album will not totally enliven Murphy’s mood too much, and he retains the bulk of his overcast pessimism for paradigm-shifting future dance-oriented outings.

The fourth album from Jason Swinscoe's shape-shifting instrumental outfit demands close attention.

Despite Swinscoe's swelling supporting cast of singers and players, Ma Fleur is notable as much for what you don't hear as for what you do: a sense of space; an absence of clutter; an enrapturing hush. The opening track, To Build a Home, a grand, billowing piano ballad which could draw admiring sighs from Antony Hegarty or Chris Martin, is as immediate as it gets.

What We Call Life is Rakei’s most complete album to date, a rich texture of sounds and concepts, masterfully weaved together by an artist at the top of their game.

By rights, it will become essential modern listening - a thought-provoking and utterly compelling collection of tracks, delivered with understated yet captivating style.

This York singer-songwriter has been through a lot since his 2011 debut, Last Smoke Before the Snowstorm. He lost his father to cancer, and spent a dark period holed up in his late parent’s old house, trying to destroy himself. This has all had an impact on his second album, but the songs are more about renewal after turbulence than wallowing in despair.

The atmosphere is hushed and hymnal: the 26-year old’s almost-whispered vocals and gently plucked guitar glide over softly pattering drums and occasional electronics.

Throughout the album, voices murmur while guitars strum idly, as if the listener were eavesdropping on a practice session. The melodies toy with carelessness, the voices straddle the line between singing and conversing.

And yet Gomez rarely become complacent in their midtempo grooves or succumb to ramshackle jamming. Songs shift direction with inspired purpose: A piano strides over a rolling snare beat that realigns "Las Vegas Dealer"; a raga-rock coda puts a wicked spin on "Bring It On"; and "Devil Will Ride" sweeps its way toward lighter-waving anthem status on a carpet of horns.

It’s definitely an album that’s giddy with ideas, but this only works to its advantage. Singles like “I Can’t See” and “Unstoppable” sound more confident than this band have ever been before. They’re even happy to push the boat out with a track like “Need a Little Spider”, a colourful jam that could weirdly be mistaken for early Wolfmother. It’s a record which blossoms with this kind of randomness but it rarely looses soul and groove. Forget the Superfood of old, because this record is different for all the right reasons.

Before and After Science is being touted as Brian Eno’s most commercial album, and with some reason: it’s a graceful, seductively melodic work, and side one even kicks off with a neat little disco riff. But this view also confuses the issue. People who loved Eno for his static, artsy instrumentals on David Bowie’s Heroes and Low will appreciate this album.

Before and after Science is austere and restrained, an enigma in a deceptively engaging skin.