It’s a coherent, engaging experience.

The Lucky Ones is a solid record chock full of classic sludge, pissed off yelps, and witty (almost existential) lyrics.

Roots & Crowns encircles the listener and flows effortlessly as each song melts into the next in bewitching bliss.

If you've yet to experience PJ Harvey, The Peel Sessions: 2001-2004 might be the perfect initiation. If you're a long time fan, don't pass this album up simply because you recognize many of the tracks listed.

This album has something for everyone and will appeal to the kids who like ambient drone pieces and folks who love songs with great pop hooks - and everyone in between.

Such is the rich detail dispersed across Kiss Each Other Clean that it demands some intensive listening to absorb all of its pleasures, especially when the choruses are not as cleanly-cut as one might expect of such a well-groomed higher-profile release.

Arguably the best thing Phillips has done since Grant Lee Buffalo’s fantastic 1993 debut, Fuzzy.

It's not entirely clear yet whether Loud Planes Fly Low will be the Rosebuds' swan song or simply a restatement of purpose, but either way, the band has delivered one of the most arresting breakup albums since Beck's Sea Change.

Even at its most intense, Everything Ecstatic combines percussive aggression with warmth and vivid emotion.

Infra holds its ground amongst Richter's finest pieces of music, movie accompaniment or not.

Whilst Volume 8 isn’t necessarily for Bardo Pond neophytes, long-term loyalists should happily squeeze it into their swollen shelves.

This is a revelatory album for the Mountain Goats and the listeners; both Darnielle and the audience find new strength in his open vulnerability.

The intelligent songcraft on Days is remarkably strong and with enough luster to continue, here's to hoping the desire never runs dry for Real Estate.

It's messy and it's fun. Sometimes pop music isn't meant to be cleaned up and polished to death, and here is proof of that.

A solid yet underachieving return.

Undeniably the most diverse album Leo’s ever made, Living with the Living leaves not one of Leo’s stylistic stepping-stones unturned.

While there isn’t a song that will stick out immediately such as “When K Got Over Me” or “I Can’t Seem To Make You Mine” there are plenty of songs that will find themselves ingrained in your memory long after a listen.

North Star Deserter is serious music, and commands a certain amount of attention.

Whilst as a whole Dear Mark J. Mulcahy, I Love You does perhaps miss having a few more mellow Mulcahy moments to give it a stronger balance of moods, its rapidly flowing melodicism is impressively infectious nevertheless.

It’s refreshing and still, a fine listen; Impersonator is in the end, its own refined identity.

The Guided By Voices record making machine is in finely-tuned condition for the vast bulk of the Motivational Jumpsuit, keeping the gang of veterans on the reunion road without any embarrassment.

Speech Therapy sounds surprisingly intellectual and crisp.

Jesse Sykes and company have fashioned an alternative country-rock album that is both decent and reflective.

Summer Sun stretches Yo La Tengo's musical boundaries even further than before, as well as reaching back to tie-up loose ends from past master works.

What it Means to Be Left-Handed is just that: a diverse assortment of refreshing new music from a band that has already developed and progressed their chops. It's a joyful occasion and for Mice Parade; a loud celebration down the street, rodents and all.

Delirium Tremens holds many enjoyably solid, if occasionally thorny, rewards.

Rather than having rushed to capture and over-stretch the first flushes of studio exploration with a premature first album, the much-awaited Dying logically extends upon the Spectres’ story so far whilst standing-up as a more mature and ambitious statement in its own right.

Ultimately, Fantastic Planet is not an easy listen yet it rewards persistent immersive airing by gradually offering-up its manifold charms.

With eleven songs, the album flows serenely well and sounds like a two part voyage; the second half much weightier, the first half perhaps more buoyant.

This is an unwieldy yet infectious compendium that will satisfy those who need it most.

The songs are dense and cleverly-constructed, and given a bit of attention, their wit and melodies will worm their way into your awareness until you don't feel like listening to very much else.

With Women as Lovers they have created one of their more accessible and cohesive albums to date.

Taken as a whole, Little Sand Box may initially feel a tad overwhelming but in actuality it makes understanding Gelb’s solo records far less arduous due to its curatorial context-setting (which includes bonus tracks and informative sleeve notes). Moreover, it upholds Gelb’s vocation as the sociable solo journeyman as being equal in stature to his role as a veteran band leader.

Whilst the reference points are sometimes more discernible than the strength of the melodic hooks, there is still something inscrutably summoning and stirring about Pink Noise that suggests there is more to Echo Ladies than just picking-up batons from a time just before the Britpop steamroller flattened out the sense of artistic adventure for some.

Ultimately, Tarot Classics is a fun and welcome addition to any existing Surfer Blood fan's catalogue, even if it is unlikely to win over any new fans.

Often Lange is able to transform songs into something worldly and like the title implies, there is a mysterious glean to it. So while Lange continues to flex his many weapons, the black ice cream he's created continues to flourish.

While it will inevitably be argued as to whether or not Tomboy is really a work of startling originality or perhaps just a long lost companion to Björk's Vespertine, it's hard to deny positing that we've got one of the best albums of 2011 finally in our hands.

He’s able to craft songs that are touching without becoming seriously over-sensitive.

With one foot rooted in tradition, and the other free to roam where it likes, Asleep on the Floodplain is a quietly great effort.

The album doesn't make the point that Yorke doesn't need his bandmates to make a great record so much as it helps shed light on what each member of the band contributes to the overall equation.

Mogwai’s newest offering, Rave Tapes, is a brooding masterpiece of a record.

One of the band’s finest releases and arguably the most comprehensive statement to date on just where the musicians were coming from, the roads they took to get where they ended up, and even possibly where they were headed.

The songs on this album work together (sometimes roughly, sometimes smoothly) as sketches and vignettes to form an overall artistically thematic picture of the world in which we live. The brothers paint this picture so starkly with gritty hyper-realism that the songs will not and do not appeal to the greater audience of folk music that is still deriving its voice from the love songs of Simon and Garfunkel and Jackson Browne.

Relatively minor misdemeanours aside though, 1,000 Years is a respectable and rejuvenated return to the fray for Corin Tucker's febrile talents.

Dreamy at times (Crawlersout), with shimmering synths and picturesque melodies, there is a haunting beauty, almost terrifying, that surrounds the listener, almost as if one is sitting inside a sonic cocoon while taking it all in.

Whilst sonic variety isn’t perhaps the strongest card pulled out on Split Milk, it does play out with some charming Astor songcraft and insistent hooks.

There is a noticeable but not calamitous chunk of Siesta that doesn’t go enough distance to really justify the extended running time of its fourteen tracks, with ponderous cuts such as “Your Head Your Mind”, “Why It Works Out Fine” and “Closer” being too reliant on meandering jangling. Consequently, this is a clear case where a little less could arguably have meant something more. That said, fans of amorphous Scandi art-pop will still find much to enjoy here.

No matter the speed at which it moves, Go glows brightly with a formidable sense of ambition and hope.

There is a subtle grandeur to George Lewis Jr.'s voice and musical nature.

The opening and closing tracks prove that Conor Oberst is a more reflective and personal venture as both are stripped down affairs, one summoning childhood memories while the other seems to contemplate suicide.

If you acquiesce to its pacing and delivery it’s chantlike mix of chill and warmth can be a springboard to your own thoughts. If you’re not so inclined, I imagine that it would be like a Chinese water torture.

Watch Me Fall, is an exhilarating ride of roaring highs that never let up.

The understated songs are the most memorable here (and the least Why?-like), and it sort of makes me wish the rockier material were shelved so that the whole album could be tailored to this mood of graceful resignation.

Yes it's slower, darker and more pensive, but like the sun that breaks through the clouds to reveal a brisk sunny morning, it shimmers and shines with splendid, polished arrangements and even grander guitar-scapes.

Whilst there are a few archetypal GBV misfires inside Class Clown Spots A UFO – brought about by scattershot recording fidelity and a small imbalance in the quantity over quality ratio – overall it is still a solidly-carved collection.

Guster finally feels like a full band and not some cutesy sideshow act.

As half of the fun of an album is trying to figure out what the artist is trying to do creatively, having the artist essentially tell you what they're going to do and then watching them do it, is somewhat less interesting.

A melancholy masterpiece.

Overall, the set works as a study in contrasts, with the ornate sampled arrangements always being in danger of disappearing under the sparking electronic beats or Daedelus’ added textures, whether they be synthesized sounds or computer printers.

The Sight Below has crafted a magnificent album and EP to help weather the darker nights and snowy days.

Firmly grounded, it's definitely the band's shining moment so far.

It’s certainly a fine achievement, an awesome collection of music has found its way onto Begone Dull Care, and Junior Boys present everything in such an excellent way.

Destroyer of the Void is a fitting reminder of what’s possible when you already have such a strong catalog of music under your belt: exceptional music that always seems to beautifully connect, no matter how varying the sounds may be.

An album that sounds both familiar and fresh and entirely entertaining.

Another unique and compelling album of mystical indie-rock with shimmering vocals, proving she not only has a voice to be reckoned with, but is a voice to be reckoned with.

This album is as buzz-worthy as other similar acts like the Postal Service.

Ultimately, The Avalanche lacks the lasting impact of Illinois, as its songs don’t quite hold the same sense of gravitas, economy, and focus.

The album is packed with impressive musicianship, a great attention to detail, melodic lines backed with beautiful harmonies and countless powerful moments.

There is just too much hit and miss on this album.

As a whole this album evokes plenty of 80’s punk/hardcore styles, sex, drugs and rock and roll anthems and the always-welcomed unexpectedness that Moore seems to always supply us with.

While it feels great to have some undiluted Avey Tare material, he seems a little creatively restless here.

You've heard all these elements before, but never quite this way.

This is an album that's tough to love but impossible to ignore.

You still get the beautiful vocal combination of Sparhawk and Parker and the traditional less-is-more approach Low perfected several albums ago. Yet now you get a band that doesn't want to get stuck in the realm of slow-core, trying new things, redefining themselves. And it works beautifully on what is, undoubtedly, a triumph of an album.

Arthur & Yu's inconsistently brewed blend of neo-psychedelic indie-folk is definitely an acquired taste and the home-recorded, lo-fi production along with uninspired songwriting renders In Camera incapable of being a worthwhile investment of your listening time.

It's always great to see a band showcase all of their strengths but when you can take everyone by surprise it's going to require just that much more skill.

Smart Flesh won't grab you with big hooks or infectious grooves, but listen long enough, and it'll sink its teeth right in to you.

Although This Too Will Pass is a very solid effort from a maturing artist, it seems to be missing some of the energy of previous releases.

This is a grating, difficult, unsatisfying album.

A collection that’s muddled but peppered with gems.

A solid if not completely earth-shattering act of restitution for loyal Bob-watchers

Spirit Stereo Frequency is an entirely mature album that is not afraid to have fun.

The band's style has clearly altered, but the transition is graceful, making Engine Down another enjoyable release.

Gonzalez bathes us in a sound so big and enveloping that it’s impossible not to bask in its powerful, optimistic glow.

While it may lack the dense orchestrations and insular connotations of previous efforts, Animal Joy packs a powerful punch all of its own, typified by an artfully sequenced set of songs that capture the human condition with panache.

Simplistic, yet imaginative, Similes provides a hypnotic and surreal soundscape suitable for both daydreaming and nightdreaming.

Their soul is in no way hurt by the production but instead, this is one of those many times where Danger Mouse’s production has truly aided in creating a terrific album from start to finish.

If there’s any fault with this album, it’s the predictability in the songs: there are no hidden surprises, lacking any real breathtaking shifts or unexpected twists waiting to throw the unwary listener off-guard.

For all its aural pleasantries, it seems bored, lethargic, strapped, bounded and paralyzed by mysteriously viscous elements.

Sublime.

You will not be able to tear yourself away from this album. This is no daringly outrageous, Kid A-esque “progressive” music that nobody really enjoys listening to. This is rock 'n roll.

Wilco (The Album) is just another wonderful and special reason to know that Wilco, as a band, are an astounding band for all to love-or at least as much as they say they love us.

One or two of the tracks sound a bit forced in their arrangements, and I can only too easliy envisage a studio listing in which individual songs are prefixed by descriptions : (the Polka number, the Dylan number, the BRMC number, the one Tom Waits wrote, etc.) but this doesn't detract from the album, if anything it only enhances it as, with a significant part of the albums production process actually audible, and with the musicianship never less than wholly professional, it's difficult to find actual flaws in the project.

It might take a couple of rotations, but upon spinning Let Us Never Speak of it Again, be prepared to suffer from involuntary dance fits from surfeits of jollity. Asinine lyrics be damned, I’m dancing here.

Allowing their music to be filled with the goodness they inevitably churn out, My Morning Jacket has embraced the electrical currents that connect their music.

Simply put, it's a decent album. There are a handful of great tracks and handful of tankers. The rest is just kind of there.

The results are pretty rewarding overall, even if the strictly unadorned arrangements might have occasionally benefitted from some counterbalancing extra instrumental layers.

The way Satin Panthers comes at you is definitely much more abbreviated and more focused; whether or not this is due only to the shortness of the EP is quickly dispelled with how well the five songs do ebb and flow.