Infinite Arms is their strongest album yet, perfecting their instantly recognisable sound with Bridwell in fine voice throughout.

More Waitrose advert than classic Wrigley’s; the Black Keys’ raw power’s been polished. Some things are meant to stay rough around the edges.

A curious state of affairs on the surface, this is no empty exercise in muso accomplishment. Lidell’s voice is a thing of wonder, a match for or indeed bettering many of R‘n’B’s mainstream performers.

‘Long White Dress’ and ‘Singles Bar’, subject matter made clear from the off, are highlights; the former is mellow and wistful, with a delightfully lilting chorus, while the latter radiates the fatigued disenchantment of somebody lacking motivation in the unfulfilled pursuit of love.

Drawing on a cast of helpers, most notably Madness' Suggs and Mike Barson, the album boasts their usual eclectic mash of styles, all held together under the Audio Bullys flag.

Never bettered, this is the world’s greatest rock ‘n’ roll band’s crowning triumph. Own this!

Bleak as you like, but strangely cathartic in many places, it's absolutely the worst album to soundtrack your Christmas lottery win. For the rest of us dour wageslaves, it's perfect.

Still in place is their frenetic rushes of sonic trickery, but most notably the band have relaxed a little and even got a little funky.

At turns utterly beautiful and thoroughly frustrating, there is no doubting the tarnished grandeur on display albeit tempered by some unnecessary navel gazing.

The tricky second album phase has been completed and it’s an excellent product. The future’s bright.

Dense and obtuse it may be but those who follow this most intense sonic explorer will be rewarded the greatest.

This album might not carry the sub-woof weight of its predecessor but it carries the icy menace of producers at the peak of their powers. Cooler than a liquid nitrogen drip.

While no single track quite matches Four Tet's 'Love Cry', it's as good overall as his contemporary's recent 'There Is Love In You'.

Never one to hide his emotions previously, Rufus Wainwright offers a sparse but staggeringly heartfelt collection of songs for voice and piano, influenced, at least in part, by the long-term illness and recent passing of his mother.

Sprawling LA collective Ozomatli return with Fire Away, their fifth full-length to date, and offer another rich dose of positive energy and musical diversity.

The Wild Hunt, the second release from Swedish guitar-twanging folksy master The Tallest Man On Earth, is a graceful and beautiful advancement of form, and matures just the way a second album really ought to.

First spewed forth in 1973 this blend of Iggy's guttural moanings and James Williamson's precise spiky guitars is rightly regarded as one of the most seminal, ferocious, uncompromising, crude, sleazy, nihilistic rock albums of all time.

Her second album is an enchanting collection of beautifully raw songs, the faint trace of tape-hiss in the quieter moments combined with the rootsy feel of songs.

As his main band disappears into "indefinite hiatus", console yourself with the knowledge that Birgisson has just made the best record of his career.

This first true-solo effort sees the man responsible for some of rock's most iconic riffery joining forces with the friends he met on the way (including The Cult's Ian Astbury, Lemmy and Iggy Pop) and is a rocking riot from the off.

A lot of Seasick Steve’s appeal comes from this good bloke aura, a bearded Buddha of the dustbowl, drawing in fans who might otherwise run a mile from his basic, grizzled music but there’s no denying the wonderful simplicity yet wholly enveloping of his music.

So, whilst ‘Animal’ endangered no creative boundaries, there’s no denying that autoKratz track the footsteps of their predecessors with great panache.

With production by Richard Goettehrer, who has worked with Blondie, the Go-Gos and others, sees the Dum Dum Girls sound achieve an authentic, balanced sound, deliberately lo-fi and tinny yet listenable and intoxicating.

‘Sea Change’ is as epic as anything that came later, Knights’ vocal supplemented by a rich seam of orchestration, but much of the material here could have been lifted from those early recordings, where skeletal fret work frames angelic vocals. A return to the source.

Taking his muse from the voyeuristic photographs of Man Ray, each note drips with sex and death.

It’s Buzzcocks-goes-Daniel Johnston, with a little Guided By Voices on the side, erudite and desperate, and everything mentioned above and yet a lot, lot more. And it’s a pleasure to share it, and them, with you.

Best when he’s corralling others into out-of-their-comfort-zone creativity, it’s the Albarn-sung tracks on the second half of the album where the attention wanders and the album opening Snoop Dogg cameo seems a million miles away. Of course, there’s alot here to take in and maybe it just needs a fair few listens to fully digest it - the sign of any album worth its salt.

Some of the riffs are quite incredible ('A More Perfect Union'), and the general effect of the whole album is that the listener will want to weep and dance simultaneously. Simply brilliant.