These 12 tracks have an irrepressible energy that is all Collins' own, reflecting his twin loves of punk and northern soul; while his lyrics, always wryly self-regarding, have an urgency and bluntness that would make them seem inconsequential were there not so much at stake.

Delivering on that precocious promise, Rose's debut long-player actually reins in her EP's feistier extremes somewhat to deliver 10 tracks of timeless, simply adorned (albeit by some dextrously restrained Music Row stalwarts) song-craft which, while they certainly doff a 10-gallon hat to the country canon, never seem constrained by Nashville tropes, old or new.

Good news: Lights is an expectations-passing collection that should see fans of the singer's material to date elevating her to superstar status.

It's hard to tell how serious De Luca is being here, so over the top is everything (there's a song called Fish in the Sky. No, really). It could be misconstrued as a parody of 70s and 80s musical mores, cramming as it does all manner of instrumental bombast and excess into its 50 minutes.

Senior makes a strong claim to be 2010's best electronic album. It's a record to lie back and drown in.

When one hears a musical feast as good and as sultry as this it's impossible not to conclude that, for all their wistfulness, entertaining enough renditions of standards seem half-baked by comparison. Having moved into the position of being a beloved national treasure status, Wyatt remains at his best when he's facing forwards rather than looking back.

With the bare minimum of innovation on show and nothing approaching the pure pop elation of Sex on Fire, Come Around Sundown will go down as KoL's classic consolidation album.

Angelides may not make good on the initial promise of Cloudlight's fearless boundary pushing across the album's entirety, then. There is, though, sufficient mind-melting invention here.

There are some beautiful moments in amongst the manic electronic experimentation, but Stevens' strength as a songwriter lies primarily in his sincerity, his ability to express intimacy without appearing cloying or saccharin.

Swanlights succeeds exactly where you might not expect it to: Hegarty sounds content, revitalised. This is a record that revels in a sense of joy.

This is, generally, straightforward guitar rock with tinges of country and folk drawn from Roddy Woomble's sabbatical in New York as a folkie.

Sadly, much of the rest conforms to a malaise that's afflicted him since 2002's Have You Fed the Fish?: repetitive tracks consisting of one looping half-melody that outstays its welcome by several months.

It will surprise no one but the most uptight and partisan fans of either group to learn that Gilmour's honeyed, chiming and unchallenging guitar work is a sensual fit for The Orb's expansive, uplifting and soporific electronica.

Where there are no words, there are rampaging thoughts, and Lucky Shiner is an album designed to provoke and instigate.

The lack of challenge and the absence at so many points of any thrust, melodic or otherwise, doesn't do justice to the ability of the creator, and that's a terrible shame considering the quality of the highlights.

Margins struggles to rise above the ordinary. Fans of Maxïmo Park will not be disappointed, but it's frankly hard to see anyone else caring very much.

Three albums in, Tunstall appears undamaged, an ordinary girl you'd want to spend time with and an honest performer it's hard to dislike.

Dense yet accessible, fleeting but full of memorable moments, Tricky's done here what he always does at his best: let the listener share the soundtrack of his involving, nomadic, outsider spirit.

Bubblegum is Clinic at their most approachable and, importantly, shows them to be sharp and direct in their more affecting statements.

Soundgarden, Seattle natives at the epicentre of the early 1990s' plaid-and-flannel rock scene, already have one best-of to their name, 1997's A-Sides. But Telephantasm goes further, spreading itself across 24 tracks and two discs, including excellent live performances alongside commercially released singles.

Yes, he's got Paul McCartney playing slurpy bass on As It Comes, and Neko Case pops up on the countrified duet Sing Me to Sleep, but there's no escaping the sound of his past. Nor any sense that it's a past that needs to be escaped from.

It's the group's most ambitious offering yet, a collection that bites harder than anything they've previously issued but which is equally eager to kiss everything better.

Explores the dark, suburban-gothic shades always loitering beneath their surface glimmer.

The problem with having so many different voices writing and performing is that Record Collection sounds like just that – a lot of different things plonked on a shelf that have their time and place but sound distractingly disparate when grouped together.

Le Noise remains reasonably accessible, Young's lyrics still as appealingly forthright as his playing, his melodies slowly rising through the unsettling, growling dirge.

Seven albums in, Jimmy Eat World are still going strong, and Invented is an enjoyable record. But it also fails to dispel the concern that the band's well of ideas is about to run dry.

Expectedly, the lacklustre delivery of the vocals throughout this album is its only slight shortcoming. The power of its songwriting and compelling twists and turns are more than enough to carry it though, and it warrants listen after listen after listen.

This is an affecting and intelligent record: neither Folds nor Hornby should be shy about suggesting a sequel.