If you haven’t fallen for Emma Pollock by the end of the first two songs on In Search of Harperfield – you know, on the off chance that you have somehow been immune to the first lady of Scottish indie over the past 20 years – then there’s probably no help for you. In just two songs, Pollock perfectly showcases her dynamic talent: there’s the dreamy, ghostly “Cannot Keep a Secret”, as immersive a song ever written to fit Pollock’s husky, beguiling voice; and “Don’t Make Me Wait”, a catchy rocker that’s as insistent as its name.

The nature of Europe, its administration, institutions and its porousness are hot topics. Sectors of Britain’s media and political class hyperventilate over trumped-up concerns while real issues which are just about impossible to address remain unresolved. In this climate, the European Border Breakers Awards are ripe for misinterpretation. Instead of being for those devising the shrewdest ways to slip in and out of countries, they are an annual European Union-sponsored award presented to pop musicians achieving success beyond their own borders.

A Coliseum Complex Museum is defined by its density. The Montréal band’s fifth album begins with a flurry of percussion which gives way to treated guitar and frontman Jace Lasek’s almost-falsetto vocal. Opening cut “The Bray Road Beast” is initially ethereal, with the space between each musical contribution suggesting a tantalisingly unfinished picture. By the time it finishes, after five minutes, layer upon layer of guitar, Mellotron, double-tracked vocals and more have been added. The result is a steamrolling assault on the ears.

Head straight for Disc 2, Track 4. A drum thumps while spring-loaded guitar feedback pulses. Suddenly, a wall of cascading guitar hurtles forth like an electric hare pursued by greyhounds. A distorted, amelodic guitar solo contrasts with the sweet melody carried by a female vocal. The energy level is extraordinary. The whole has a lightness of touch. Then, abruptly, it stops.

All eyes are on Daughter to see whether the indie-folk trio’s second album Not To Disappear can live up to the first. If You Leave (2013) was lauded a critical success, and the band fronted by North Londoner Elena Tonra earned a fiercely loyal following.

The waiting room is a despondent place. Wherever it is a staging post for is not bringing its occupants delight. Unsurprisingly, as it is by the perennially sombre Tindersticks, The Waiting Room is a grey-hued album which does not suggest imminent rescue from this predicament. After a brief rendition of the theme from Mutiny on the Bounty, the ensuing 10 tracks set lyrics of estrangement, loss and rootlessness to musical settings which could soundtrack a penumbral nightclub conjured by David Lynch.

Originally available on cassette only, Odd Nosdam's Trish has now become the producer and former member of hip-hop pioneers cLOUDDEAD's first release for the Sonic Cathedral label. With six tracks coming in at just under half an hour, it falls into the hinterland between EP and album – a kind of musical novella. This means that there are certain constraints at play here, yet the shortened format is, in reality, a strength.

Is language a barrier to international recognition? Is English necessary to make waves worldwide? Musicians from the African continent and South America regularly perform in their native tongue beyond the borders of their home countries. But often they are – rightly or wrongly – marketed or pigeon-holed as world music, a branding which allows for eschewing the Anglophone. The always problematic label of world music can be and is debated endlessly, but one thing is certain: for Scandinavia, most internationally successful music is delivered in English.

Choosing an album of the year is an exacting process. For an album to be arresting, it either has to come as a bolt from the blue or build on what’s come before in a way which represents an identifiable artistic development which takes things to new level while saying something fresh. Holding patterns and restatements of default settings will never have an impact, especially if they speak of or to comfort zones.

The news that Lush have reformed didn’t come as surprise. Their comparable contemporaries Ride and Slowdive had also done so over the past couple of years, and My Bloody Valentine – an influence looming over all three – returned in 2007 after over a decade’s abscence. Unlike the others, Lush, who were on 4AD rather than Creation, have reissued their complete catalogue as a box set during the run-up to re-hitting stages next May. Chorus has the potential to eclipse the reappearance as it doesn’t edit history like a one-or-so hour live concert.