Fight Softly is, while not a game-changer, certainly a level-raiser. It glistens with pop immediacy, rollicks with breathtaking percussive interpositions, and clatters to a beat entirely of its own construct.

Bossalinis & Fooliyones, while not exactly what you'd call a mainstream rap album, is consistently accessible, and in thrall to a tangle of overground production styles.

Appreciating this album does admittedly require time and effort, which occasionally isn't repaid... But once you've settled into it, Yeasayer's Fragrant World is a wonderful place to explore.

Reboots Scott Walker and the androgynous end of 90s Britpop into distinctive darkwave.

Thompson's fifth album is a winningly charming affair, showcasing his rich voice.

On the evidence of this impressive debut album, [Howard] is a gifted and immediately involving singer-songwriter.

Ultimately this sounds like a side project, which can only be so disappointing when that's precisely what it is.

Perhaps glossier and a touch more refined, Circles nevertheless stands up very well on its own terms, and complements its predecessor not in spite, but precisely because of their similarities.

A few surprisingly wishy-washy string-synths aside, it is, as always, hugely impressive but disappointingly cold and forbidding.

God Forgives' best moments... are fine examples of how big-budget rap can skilfully avoid crass clichés, and even convey no little emotion.

Here Come the Bombs is a rewarding and substantial offering.

On Further, The Chemical Brothers show no signs of fatigue, and the absence of any star names matters not a jot. It's better to continuously explode than fade away, or something.

If anyone asks how Heroes differs from the 65 Willie Nelson studio albums that preceded it, the happy answer is: not much. The expressive, intimate tenor, the matchless musical instinct and Willie's distinctive ringing guitar lines are just as compelling, and just as delightful, as ever.

This swift follow-up, which portrays a band still with shoulder-shrugging faux-teenage inarticulacy high on their agenda, amidst a delivery of doped-out Ramones-y monomania which can make this album's 36 minutes feel like an hour.

So does the oddly titled Not Music hold any surprises? Yes and no: Stereolab's signature sound is very much present and correct, but this record doesn't sound like the last gasp of a long-lived and generally much-loved band.

A curious collection of techno covers from the Detroit garage-rockers.

Even when tracks pass without too much of an impression left, the listener is never without a smile on their face--there's simply that much fun on show.

Boys Don't Cry works superbly as a companion piece to Seasons.

The array of musical styles on show across The 2nd Law means that, like many of this band's past albums, it doesn't entirely coalesce into a seamless collection of songs... But when this album works, it works well.

The sessions don't sound patchy or cobbled together. There's a unity in terms of performing equality, coupled with an unbeatable repertoire.

It's at once a work of larger ambition and greater focus than its predecessor, beginning brilliantly and continuing in the same manner for its entire length.

Ester is a collection best suited to after-hours reflection, a glass of red in hand and the TV playing only static.

Counting cash – and stacks of it – seemingly continues to prove this rapper's primary concern, rather than a desire to significantly stretch the artform.

Sea of Cowards works hard to dispel those not-unjustified notions of The Dead Weather being Jack White’s third-best band. What’s even stranger is that they appear to have succeeded, in spite of the fact 80% of the record proceeds from a fairly lumpen blues template which at first glance would seem to suggest a continued dearth of inspiration.

King Animal undeniably draws its strength from the band's accessible Superunknown era, but also takes Soundgarden somewhere fresh.

Immaculately-placed jibes that slice to the bone and highlight a sharp, intellectual take on rock music that continues to prove you don;t have to dumb things down while letting your pop sensibilities win out.

These 11 tracks wisely elect not to outstay their welcome, ensuring that repeat experiences are enjoyable, if not markedly memorable.

Fear Factory’s slices of digital dystopia no longer sound futuristic or groundbreaking, but Mechanize is a powerful statement from a revitalized and still-relevant band.