Seventy-four years on, he has recorded what is surely the blues album of the year.

Bones is a fiery yet melodious modern rock album made by a band who may come to regret their name should they survive to become old hands.

He's delivered a sincerely meant yet curiously staid and pedestrian tribute.

Gracious Tide, Take Me Home is a luminous, lilting, lovely debut album, and a perfect mood piece as the nights begin to draw in.

Dear God… is as engagingly weird as anything before, but flows so much better by incorporating the customary sonic terrorism into verse-chorus-verse songs, rather than breaking off for performance poetry about living in the shadow of suicide, or (say) war as legitimate barbarism for jocks.

It ["Getting Rest"], like much of this fine and not at all "difficult" second album, is undeniably impressive, but it leaves you with the ineffable impression that the best of Wes Gonzalez is yet to come.

His evocative, heartfelt, pin-sharp lines hit compelling grooves, all twists and turns, grin-inducing couplets and weirdness.

This latest collection offers a tantalising glimpse of how Hendrix's genius might have progressed.

One mighty fine rock'n'roll record.

While the reins of pomp have certainly been reined in somewhat, it's hard to shake the suspicion that Suck It and See is further evidence that Arctic Monkeys are still Britain's best guitar band--albeit one that'd be even better if they ever decide to truly lunge into the unknown.

Ahmed has pulled together a supporting cast with sufficient cutting edge that it comparatively endangers the razorblade impact of his original compositions.

There's a kitsch appeal, but this stuff [from disc two] belongs in a different world from the marvellous early disc.

There's no getting away from the fact that WTC 9/11 simply doesn't have the structural cohesion or magnitude of Different Trains--a comparison which Reich fans will inevitably draw.

Simply stuffed with rollicking tunes.

No Gods is a significant statement of intent. Despite its nihilistic title, it's an album that brims with vitality and could well be Sharks' ticket to the big leagues.

With its hurtling, remorselessly breakneck pace this isn't an album you listen to as such; rather, you grapple with it.

The latest Lamdin offering, billed as Nostaliga 77 and the Monster, is a thoroughly intriguing instrumental set, staffed with an impressive line-up of leading British jazz heads.

While kin is solidly crafted throughout, there's nothing to justify the lofty artistic conceits surrounding it.

Replete with moments of jubilance and tranquillity, cataclysm and contemplation, it feels like the successful culmination of everything the band have been aiming towards over their career to date.

Both in words and music, this album works by letting anger and warmth share a platform. In this respect, listeners already au fait with this splendid band should find plenty of cheer.

The overall impression remains of a bunch of clever chaps who are able to avoid over-intellectualisation and weave bags of charm and fun into their complex pop songs.

More selective souls may find themselves reaching for the fast-forward button, as perhaps the original plan would have yielded a more cohesive whole.

That lang is a greater and more radiant talent than the rest of the Siss Bang Boom combined is obvious, but so is the fact that in mysterious ways this strange marriage has helped her find her feet and voice again.

So while Rant may be a stunt album for The Futureheads, it's an exhilarating stunt, and one that more than whets the appetite for whatever it is they choose to do next.

Carey's gallant use of drum boxes and occasional, restrained glitchy sonics – like on the carousing Pickup Truck and undulating Into Tomorrow – round out Mason's sound, bringing a raft of rousing fresh dimensions to his previously straight-up folksy stylings.

It's a downbeat record that reclaim's dubstep's original dark energy and experimental imperative.

It's perhaps a bit long, and there may be too much repetition for some – but persist and Drokk is quite the engrossing, and sporadically discomforting, listen.

This is a great album: smart, thrilling, bouncy, imaginative, sussed, melodic, fiery, punchy, passionate, repetitive, and immersed in the technology of 2010 but the ideology of the 60s and late 70s (and early 90s Olympia, if we’re going to be exact).