Despite the spare instrumentation, there's no sense of repetition or lack of variety, and these emotive, excellent songs stay with you. A late contender for album of the year.

Bluntly, Lisbon is a collation and culmination of their finest work in years. Rather than a selection of scattered snapshots, this time we've got the bigger picture. And it's irresistible.

Dive into their magnificent depths and you might find a record to fall in love with several times over.

The rest of us will succumb happily to Grinderman's sick skill and wonder why rebel teens don't make dangerous, dastardly rock'n'roll like this anymore.

Barnett's blue-sky dreaming is actually a pretty accurate description of Hidden – heavily beat-driven, almost entirely absent of guitars, and laced with large amounts of elaborately arranged woodwind and brass. Does it work? Largely, yes.

An outstanding album which improves upon the Swedish singer's great debut.

[An] inspired brew of, indeed, both fear and fun.

Infusing--as per usual--squalling, buzzsaw guitars and Mac McCaughan's high-pitched, emotionally-charged vocals with simple yet cerebral lyrics that turn commonplace existence into something sad yet (as the title suggests) splendid, Majesty Shredding--their ninth album--brings their sonic template fully into the 21st century.

The exceptional musicianship and impeccable vocals may not be to everyone's taste, but for 40 very happy minutes, you can revel in SJDK's very discrete world.

The album unfurls at a leisurely pace, the band's characteristic blend of burbling electronica and acoustic instrumentation at its most formidable, and most satisfying, yet.

The Hunter, with its monstrous choruses, powerful percussion and jaw-on-the-floor fret-work, is sure to connect with anyone who's previously rocked out to their wares just as easily as it will absolute beginners.

More of the same from Black Joe Lewis – and this is a good thing.

The results are, almost inevitably, meditative and cinematic, but also, more unusually for music of this so-called 'post-classical' stripe, rich in melody and genuinely haunting, numinous atmosphere.

It's when the outfit really attack their instruments, however, that sparks start to fly from the Wild Flag sound.

There is, unquestionably, a mass of fortitude at work from the creator throughout.

Harlem River Blues, though, sounds like the work of a man who can handle pressure. It more than matches--it far exceeds--what had gone before.

It is, as you'd expect, expertly played – but there's a vividness to Look Around the Corner that reaches some way beyond mere chops. It's an exceptional collaboration that proves there's life in the old soul yet.

After this striking highlight ["Stick to My Side"] Black Noise glides into a slight lull that persists through the Underworld-like fidget of "Satellite Snyper" and the disappointingly anonymous electro house of "Behind the Stars," which shows that when Weber promotes rhythm ahead of melody the effect can be underwhelming. It’s with the album’s final trio that things return to the high standard of the first half.

This is a firecracker of an album, no doubt about that--but its longevity is appropriately limited, its stretch across the hardcore spectrum deliberately hamstrung.

Fourteen years later, this reissue reveals a record so unique and ahead-of-its-time that nothing else has sounded like it since.

It's not merely a rehash of the original, but a cohesive, considered masterpiece in its own right.

It's better to simply view this opus as a beautifully deconstructed blues that's equally effective as a paean to careworn Americana or as a sparsely-drawn exercise in restraint, meditation and composure.

Rocky's managed to keep it trill so far, but now comes the hard bit.

It all depends where you stand on the group's painstakingly retro, sax- and organ-fuelled sound. If you love it and go the distance, these grooves are simply mesmeric.

Though the vocals never reach that peak [on At The Dancehall] again, they're steady and reliable throughout.

Luck in the Valley finds him totally at home on the ranch, sat in his rocking chair and surrounded by friends gathered around the porch deck. It’s a fitting last hurrah from a true American primitive.

While it won't please those expecting a selection of aggressive dubstep workouts, Severant is a stunning debut that gives up more secrets with every listen.

Black Up is far from a fuzzy, unfocused indie-rap document. Butler's rhymes remain lyrical and tight, musing on desire and motivation, artistic freedom and Afro-American identity, in a way that should appeal to the Talib Kweli fans out there.