Bellamy wriggles ever freer from the straitjacket of rock music, nearing the point where he can slide between genres as easily as his idols, Bowie, Queen and Prince.

The best songs on this cunning, efficient, frequently daft and fractionally disappointing album are the ones which sound most like the misty reveries of [their] debut.

The most inventive and exhilarating rock music Britain's producing right now.

Most of the tracks here could be Pavement, so those looking for a diversion will be disappointed. Those looking for another Pavement record for their collection will be less so, but ultimately this sounds like a hurried release and more of an extension of the past than an indication of the future.

A serious album, with huge potential and no weak points, Disc-Overy is the coming of age UK hip hop has long needed but been too timid to reach for.

Night Work, the Sisters third studio album, is both their filthiest and most musically downbeat effort to date.

For a handful of decent Morrissey songs – and, it must be said, some of his best ever vocal performances – we should be grateful. Ultimately though, for all these tantalising reminders of greatness, "You Are The Quarry" still feels like a man unnecessarily trapped by the limitations of his band and the extent of his loathing.

Its charms sink their teeth in fast and deep.

Elsewhere the album could be either too relaxed or too eccentric for many. But it's a fine, rich and extremely likeable record, nonetheless, and it deserves to find its audience even without that famous surname.

He's got an exceptionally stylish and more importantly, sellable album to back it up.

It's a smart, self-aware and consciously direct album.

The Black And White Album feels less like a fresh start than the end of something.

With Flock, their third album but only the second to get a British release, Ireland's Bell X1 have unearthed the missing musical link - and it's marvellous.

Flamboyant, excessive and more Mikado than Micachu, you get the feeling that 'Life Is Sweet...' is an album that'll polarise people. But hey - if you don't like this one, Dev will be onto the next project tomorrow anyway.

A dignified and engaging record.

Svanangen reverts to a simpler, sadder approach. His initial cheer unexpectedly falls away into an introspective trance. Dear John is no worse for it. Sometimes you have to clear the air. It's liberating, if done right.

This still isn’t the kind of music that you’ll hear looped on adverts or behind sporting highlights, but instead simple, affecting songs that use the human heart as an instrument as surely as acoustic guitars.

'Quixotic' can't fail to mesmerise even those who thought Tricky too clever for his own good.

It's an album for well-mannered emotional crises in front of log fires, a soundtrack for quivering bottom lips.

Brilliantly sequenced, the album reaches a euphoric climax with the "Yes, we can change the world" hook of 'Black President,' a close cousin of Lupe Fiasco's 'Superstar.'

And while at first it feels like an unholy, unhummable mess, the same solid gold charm which powered lead single "I Don't Feel Like Dancin'" to Number One, lurks at the heart of every track, and by listen five it's refocused "Ta-Dah" into a strangely enticing nether world, where it's forever 1974 and a cheap thrill or soaring pop high lurks round every corner.

For all the one-paced nature of its songwriting, wilfully lo-fi production values, inevitable Lily Allen comparisons and grating larynx, Panic Prevention is still an enthralling debut, and one that says infinitely more about the life of young Londoners than any amount of Bloc Party seriousness.

There is much to enjoy on this consistently rewarding album; brazen, bonkers and really quite brilliant.

Collapse Into Now isn't a bad album but crucially it isn't a classic.

The album finishes almost as well as it started with 'The Mall & Misery' (a bit of country, a bit of disco, lightening bolts of new wave guitar, harmonies to intoxicate), proving the album's effective inevitability is not tedious and the quality is clear whichever direction you approach from.

A check-your-pants rollercoaster, Tentacles isn't a critique of the times by any stretch of the imagination but it captures the feeling, the mood and the sheer abject terror.

Much of It's Not Me's bummed-out vibes seem rooted in sound artistic sense, but musically a sunken-eyed pallor has replaced the rosy-cheeked flush and, you know what, it all gets a bit...draggy.