Here's the '80s revival long plotted by style journalists given an accessible alt-rock face, a deftness missing from most of the arid purveyors of sexy robot music.

It feels like the work of a man groping his way, fastidiously but uncertainly, towards the next level.

"The Evolution" is good but nowhere near dynamic or forward thinking enough to put Ciara on the A-List and fulfil her boundless ambition.

The Rakes' debut is by turns profoundly unsettling and savagely funny as each song is propelled by a seething sense of purpose.

There is a tendency, due to the slow, quiet nature of these songs and the occasionally syrupy harmonies, for them to blend together. But look beneath the surface, to the fragile emotions that inspired these songs, and The Runaway remains a moving exercise in good old fashioned catharsis, one that exposes the sad hearts of this band more than ever before.

Rockferry works as a very promising calling card.

This is Gold Panda's own record, an album of proper emotional heft that'll be enjoyed with a box of tissues, during tingling comedowns and on more discerning dancefloors.

Way more consistent than your average over-long US R&B release, whilst still being stuffed with just as many potential singles.

Playful yet touching at (almost) every turn, Write About Love may not shake any musical foundations but it certainly proves that Belle and Sebastian still can't be pigeon-holed.

His solo follow-up, though, is a more personal affair, dissecting the onset of middle-age, physical decrepitude and the end-game of marriage (he split from his wife not long after finishing this).

Whilst any fan will probably have all these tracks already, 'G Sides' acts as a nifty companion piece to the album and looks ace too.

Not only an opportunity to look back, then, but a joyous reminder that, when at his lowest, Brian Wilson stepped up and did the unthinkable.

Whether forsaken or not, Fucked Up certainly do a fine job of making the political sound personal--a victory in itself when taken with a sonic ferocity so broad in its range and wide in scope.

If not a beginning to end classic album, it's full of potential classic tracks.

This album's triumph is to simultaneously place PE in their colossal historical lineage and reinstate their utter relevance.

This time around Polly's drama school project is playing a Rock Star, and therefore this must be a Rock Record. And from the opener 'Big Exit', a simplistic, effective stomper so swathed in echo that she seems to be singing from the bottom of a pit, to the raucous semi-bonus 'This Wicked Tongue', it's just that, a back to basics special.

But its modesty is its weakness. For the last 15 years, Simon has been rejuvenating himself with challenges, with awkward collaborations and unusual idioms, testing and experimenting with his talent. With this collection of gentle, wry ballads and witty, shuffly songs he is, nearly, just coasting on it. Not that this makes 'You're The One' a bad album. It just makes it an ominous one.

The album lacks the flab of previous efforts and, where he's been guilty of hiding behind guests before, the contributions are (perhaps inadvisably in retrospect) kept to a minimum. Sadly though, the grandstanding and chest beating take their toll on both Graduation's aesthetic and the listener's patience.

This is music that sounds like it was plotted by sad psychics graduates in lab coats. It's clean, melancholic and sterile (in a totally non-derogatory sense) - full of gently undulating rhythms and melodic pulses.

"Tyrannosaurus Hives" is a good record, but one best dipped into rather than listened to in one go.

Superficially then, White Denim might, on first listen, ape the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion but unlike garage revivalists like The Hives--whose studied revivalism has all the innovative spirit of a 19th century theme park--they've kicked all the best things about red-blooded rock into exciting new shapes.

But for those who imagine a less self-consciously experimental Blur or Can perhaps jamming it out with Parliament, there's much to enjoy on this classy, cerebral but hugely accessible album.

More vintage sound than classic album, All You Need Is Now won't revive any careers, theirs or Ronson's.

Aficionados may balk at an actor trespassing on sacred ground, but even they'd have to admit, that for a white, middle-class Englishman, Hugh Laurie plays a surprisingly convincing bluesman.

It's overlong, like almost every rap album today, and it's not the sort of place to come expecting erudition or insight. But for one singular rapper unwilling and unafraid to stick to his guns, it's a deeply satisfying record.

Where 'Holy Wood' does come together and threaten to transcend its at times cliched parts is in its clarity of vision. This is a lean, visceral album that is as tripwire lithe as its maker. Manson's also remembered to write some great pop-goth tunes this time out, nowhere more so than with first single 'Disposable Teens'.

So, while this is a terrific rock record, there's still not much here that our dads didn't nod-out to at Bickershaw.

Instead of pushing any boundaries The Soft Pack have made a vigorous, enjoyable and high-energy record with a bundle of opportunities for jerky dancefloor foot stomping.