This is an album nostalgic for a time when soul, circa Watergate/Vietnam, had an upbeat message and a positivist agenda. Here, though, Crow puts aside politics for pure fun.

It's a sometimes perplexing, often very pretty excursion into the recent past of a pair of gifted musicians, but Archive 2003-2006 expectedly holds little appeal beyond a limited audience.

If you peer hard enough, there are. Subtly, slow-burningly, Zero 7's wispy, placid emissions reveal charm and interest value; even the occasional surprise.

Like Arnalds and Johannsson, Richter is capable of eliciting profound emotions from the barest of foundations, and it's perhaps this that makes their music of such interest to alternative music fans.

A record, then, that says nothing, beautifully. When Burrows develops a lyrical accuracy as keen as his musical one, these Arrows will truly burst hearts.

Striding through metal, dancehall, space pop and dubstep, our multicultural mascot has littered MAYA with politicized sonic motifs: from marching drums, gunshots and modems to heavy machinery and blaring sirens. It's loud, proud, and taking no prisoners.

It's a complex, winding late-night soundtrack that doesn't move too fast, but never stops to question the judgement of its own unique outsider logic.

There are many more moments of magic on this triumphant third album. Among them, The Girl is Gone proves Mystery Jets can do melancholy in as confident a manner as they do happiness.

Remember Who You Are is the sound of a band not so much rediscovering their past as recycling it.

Despite the anthems being on a tight leash, repeated listens reveal this to be one of their best albums.

With the band now considerably more settled, the release of Disconnect from Desire is confirmation that SVIIB's meticulous balance between the spiritual and choral has reached a confident, polished plateau.

Steadman's vocal stands out--its tremulous quality may be a hangover from, as the story goes, embarrassment at being overheard singing as a kid, but it heightens the sense of an authentically troubled spirit exorcising his demons in the quietly devastating manner of a Nick Drake.

Sky at Night simply distils and expands all Kloot's lovely strengths, from his taut, elegant tunes to resolutely bittersweet lyrics.

Despite being a guitarist down (Bill Ryder-Jones departed after Roots and Echoes), they've regrouped admirably and made a comeback record that strives for, and indeed almost reaches, the dizzying heights of 2002's self-titled debut.

That OutKast comeback will surely be killer, but for now respect is due the way of this splendid solo adventure.

Kelis's honey-husky voice slips easily into the hypnotic repetitions of dance music vocalisation; she uses the classic language of love songs and the soaring declarations of generalized euphoria particular to house music.

Aphrodite is pure Kylie magic. Everything that made you fall in love with her all over again before is present and correct here.

From a palette of familiar reference points, they've created a fresh, vital sound that could prove to be the basis of an impressive career.

Night Work is a far livelier and more enjoyable record than Ta-Dah, which was a modest album with much to be modest about. But the nagging sense that Scissor Sisters aren't living up to the promise of their multifaceted, emotionally rich debut is slowly being replaced by the suspicion that they never will.

They're probably the only band in history whose latest album would sound better if they did not appear on it.

This is a typically odd, zany album, but that's precisely what makes it so good -- because Wolf Parade's twisted, crazy, surreal world becomes yours, and it feels both absolutely normal and absolutely right.

Talent burns through old-skool rap bangers, ferocious electro body-poppers and teary teen anthems – never a dull moment, never an irritating frat-girl with a “bottle of Jack”.

The message is, essentially, Times are hard, but let's make things better. As honest and uplifting statements of intent go, it's hard to fault – just like this album.

Much has been made--often unfairly--of Gray's awkwardness and lack of convention. But after several stabs at clumsy conformity, it finally feels like it's something she's embracing, and that's massively evident here.

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.

A wide array of producers means that Recovery isn't as consistent as Eminem's best albums--his second and third--but there are significantly more highlights here than on either of his previous two.

This is the most balanced album of Mason's career, or certainly the least precipitous. There is still a yawning void beneath him, but for once it doesn't sound as if he's about to fall into it, and you can't help but share his relief.

There's definitely a place for We Are Born in our post-Gaga pop landscape. The album's accessible tunes might not stand up to in-depth analysis, but they stand a good chance of lighting up cheesy club nights everywhere.