Neither Callahan's trademark poetic gloom nor his even-keel misanthropy have been ditched in time for 'Supper', but it does see him breathing deeper than before and moving with a surprising spring in his step away from the claustrophobic intensity of his previous work.

This is rock with a big fat drunken grin scrawled over its face in lurid red lipstick.

Definitely in the hat for album of the year.

All We Could Do Was Sing does exactly what it say on the tin - an astonishing album, rich in storytelling and fables; woven with 11 brilliant songs by a band apparently driven by nothing more than the sheer love of performing.

Recent devotees may be left wondering why there's nothing for them to sing-along to.

Live shows have shown that they have an even more cutting, vital album waiting to be recorded. If they can harness that live edge with this recorded willingness to experiment, their next album will be a monster.

So while this isn't "The Desert Sessions" - sadly, Isobel Campbell is no Polly Harvey - "Ballad Of The Broken Seas" remains an engaging curio whilst we wait to see what both artists do next.

What Seventh Tree actually does - successfully - is tap into a very English spirit of eccentricity, taking the mellow floatiness of Goldfrapp's earliest work and imbuing it with a dash of Hammer horror and the aroma of country meadows.

Soulsavers shove the mic in Mark Lanegan's hand and tell him to growl as loud as he can. He brings his friends, they all join in, and they make a lot of sense.

What niggles is that many of the songs aren’t whole enough or, if we’re honest (and it’s hard because he’s just so darn loveable and charming), good enough for an album. Even superior compositions like “Art Teacher” suffer under this record’s careless construction.

We'll take it any day over the bloated, self-important MOR of the Big Rap Stars (stand-up Nas) but hipster rap still has a way to go if it's to prove more than a passing fad.

It is certainly Dizzee's least consistent record to date.

As ever though, Liars emerge with their own sonic identity intact - you can 'hear' LA in the chaos, disquiet and vast, starving spaces of these songs, but they remain a band that don't surrender easily to their surroundings.

As a whole, 'Total Life Forever' may feel too self-consciously clever to really convince but Foals evidently have a brilliant career ahead of them and this could be its crucial cornerstone.

This is a contemporary collection of eclectic modern folk songs by a bold woman who has more in common with an interesting raft of contemporaries than her mentor.

It's tumultuous. It's breathtaking. It's expressive without the barest hint of Radiomuse indulgence.

Breathlessly exciting and enormously sexy, "The Witching Hour" is just the soundtrack for your next S&M session.

Amid such hi-octane dancefloor tracks such as this, current single 'Ready For The Floor' is, in context, pedestrian--its uncomfortable resemblance to Russ Abbot's 'Atmosphere' becoming more apparent with every listen.

Is it possible to have too many ideas? Quite possibly. Deerhoof is the sound of imagination overdrive.

It’s pretty much all fantastic.

The trouble is, the grandiose sounds he carves often sounds more polystyrene than pompous, no matter how many coats he applies.

Veirs here is at the peak of her game, and as refreshing as a lungful of oxygen.

Hence we get an album which, musically at least, veers all over the place, from chamber pop to glam to, God help them, hotel lobby jazz. In other hands, this would be a terrible mess, but in each instance you feel like the group are inching ever closer to that perfect pop moment.

"Guero" proves that the old, post-modern magic still works.

Reliably odd, then, but unexpectedly moving, too: the best Tom Waits album, all told, since 1992’s “Bone Machine”.

It's just not quite as great as some of us dared to hope.

'What Sound' could easily place Lamb alongside Dido and Zero 7 on this year's coffee tables, but also sets them apart as a unique, ever challenging outfit who'll be worth following long after we've come out of corporate chillout coma.

Renegades' is a formidable parting shot. A Rick Rubin-produced collection of 12 cover versions selected to show the breadth of Rage's influences, it's an object lesson in being both inspired by musical history and remoulding it in your own shape.