It’s a proper album, in the sense that a divide is made at four of seven, the title track a segue between halves – its makers clearly bear download culture little respect, constructing their latest so that it’s best experienced as a whole, bridging arrangements as vital as the blustering bombast and constitutional inflections of grandly designed standout pieces.

Slight discrepancies aside, July Flame triumphs when the music is stripped and Veirs' reflective folk-pop and country-folk songwriting comes to the fore. As it transpires, July Flame is a treasure trove for the wistful daydreamer.

Lerner has every inch of the stadium-indie minefield mapped out and slapped in plain view on his sturdy pop-machine's fulcrum.

Waters is on fiery form, and you get the sense that by 1992, he’d finally settled into his own corner of the world a little more.

While there is still room for improvement-–the still clear Nine Inch Nails references somewhat prove that--Criminal will please both fans of the genre and intrigue potential newcomers, of which there will be plenty to this strange, niche genre.

Musically it’s the first half of the album that shows us a new side of Beyoncé, one that thrives in dark atmospheres and minimalism in a way her music never did before.

Death Lust is the sound of a band who has had enough being put down, pushed around and generally told to conform to a society they never really wanted. It’s the sound of disaffected youth demanding to be listened to.

Gamelan Into The Mink Supernatural basically embodies that: an album that might take a chomp at your fingers if you reached for the pause button. II is a bit like that, just not all the time.

If you’re looking for dusty, cavernous melancholia entwined with hard rockin’ and speckled with magic, then consider it found.

There’s nothing tacky or horrendous or artificial about It’s a Holiday Soul Party at all; it’s simply the sound of a band who understand all of these things, and have made a holiday soul party of an album in order to celebrate them.

There’s something about High Hopes’ slight incoherence that actually stands to its advantage--it’s a less homogenous, polished whole than Magic or The Rising and a fresher, more arresting listen.

It’s the work of a confident, mature songwriter with a clear and distinct voice.

In what’s been a tremendous year for female singers thus far (see releases from Marissa Nadler, Bat For Lashes, Emmy The Great and fellow Portland-er Laura Gibson), this is yet another to add to the pile.

This is a slick, confident, emotionally mature and balanced album, crammed with zingers, from a band who know their territory like the back of their hands.

With Nobody Knows Willis Earl Beal has rescued soul from the depths of the X Factor's Motown week.

Amidst the madness of Oneohtrix Point Never’s music, these are songs that hit the core of humanity and therein lie their beauty.

While opening track ‘Get Innocuous’ gently apes his own ‘Losing My Edge’ for the first minute and a half, the rest of the LP gradually moves onwards and upwards; either improving and tightening the previous template, or trying new things altogether.

'The Fog' provides the LP's coda; part of me is surprised by the last-gasp dive into Gruff Rhys-esque psychedelic pop, but the rest of me is too bowled over by its beauty to care. It's the last in a dazzling array of surprises that show exactly why his label were so keen to snap him up in the first place. On this evidence, Ghost Culture is in for a very good year.

Somehow, by taking these backwards steps, Peaking Lights have, rather bizarrely, flown forwards, proving in the process that, when handled correctly, nostalgia can be a fine tool. A fine tool indeed.

Songs Cycled has everything you’d want from Van Dyke Parks and from an album. By being true to the Van Dyke Parks’ perception of what an album should contain, his music sounds as though it is from a different planet.

Whilst this ceaseless good feeling will be too much for some, even those who don’t list this style of music amongst their interests may find enough variation here to keep coming back, as each song differs enough in its construction to warrant repeat visitations.

Apes aren’t about to crack that ‘til now ignorant mainstream with this fourth offering, but established acolytes and curious newcomers will find much indeed to be super-stoked about.

Grapefruit is fabulous. It is challenging and it is fun.

Where British guitar bands like the Arctic Monkeys have failed in enabling their audiences to dance in any way more stylised than an up-down jump, this guitar band play songs you could very nearly jive to, partner in hand.

Dave Grohl is a veteran -- the world does not need another record from him. The world needs Obits.

By drawing from her vast catalogue of experiences, she finds the scope for an engaging range of musical tangents. Yet somehow, she has made an album which is not confused or disjointed.

This might not be their finest work, but it’s the best thing they’ve made in at least a decade.

At 75 minutes and 19 tracks, it is comfortably his longest record to date, but also his most listenable.

While Ma Fleur is no better than The Cinematic Orchestra’s previous scores, it is equally gorgeous in how it responds to and ekes out intellectual quagmires of song.

‘Organic’ is a word that has influence and is often applied, but hardly does justice to so otherworldly a record as Yesterday and Today’. A pulse very rarely makes you feel this alive.

There really isn't much not to like about Time Capsules II; it would take a lot of energy to summon up any hatred for it, like hating a new-born puppy, or your own child.

It’s a jaw-dropping accomplishment, one of those records that’s almost pointless to listen to as a series of individual songs--tracks are mini symphonies in themselves, and to break Loud City Song down into tracks would be missing the point.

Laibach has done little to diminish their brilliance on a loaded, thought-provoking, and immeasurably entertaining release.

Sure, a lot of this has been done before, but not often with this level of assurance and class on a debut album.

Oneohtrix Point Never has gone further than most, especially with Replica, in proving that our heritage doesn't always need to be "rehashed" to be replicated with real style.

The music here is more considered and richly teased out.

It's so different from the majority of his previous output that it might take some time to truly get to grips with. The coherence of the whole record is a joy.

There’s a nocturnal ambience in places, a mythic sensibility throughout, but plenty of light in the dark.

What sets Traxman apart from most of his current footwork peers is an ability to preserve the tenderness when he's strip-mining house, soul, disco and Prince... This should not detract from his equal skill at conjuring unruly, drums'n'samples raw bangers, of which Da Mind Of Traxman has plenty.

Minor Love is a record of succinct pop ditties, with only three clocking in over 150 seconds long.

Weird, wonderful and moderately imposing.

What really sets Psychedelic Pill out as some of Young's strongest work in a while though are those other epic tracks, which deliver that expansive, explorative sound with some deeper voyages into the singer's thoughts.

While Circular Sounds isn’t quite the modern sound of the American west coast, it feels very much like the classic sound of California: a sound left blissfully alone by the stresses and rigours of a modernity forever on the move.

A few more years playing together has refined Desperate Journalist’s songwriting significantly. There’s more emotional and musical depth to the songs on Grow Up, the slow-dance of ‘Purple’ being probably the biggest example of this.

The Stand Ins is assured, ambitious and occasionally transcendent in its appeal--a worthy expansion of its forerunner and standalone joy in itself.

With or without the four unreleased songs, this was always going to be an essential collection for any Belle & Sebastian obsessive, and the credits are a reminder there’s plenty more to come.

It does the job you need it to do. It succeeds entirely on its own, self-contained terms.

Under Color Of Official Right packs a dynamic punch from starting to finish, never outstaying its welcome at any point.

It might not be the freshest, most original sounding record you’ll hear this year (it could have easily been released at any point in the 25 years without eyebrows being raised), but it terms of solid yet somewhat subversive indie-pop enjoyability, you will be hard pressed to find something better.

While it’s tempting to disregard ‘Never, Never, Land’ as a frantic attempt to usurp its predecessor in the celebrity stakes, the big-name guests this time around are infinitely more suited to the mood.

Slow Focus isn’t alienating, it’s other, and it’s a pleasure to take a wander around its unfamiliar landscapes.

Far from being disappointing, then, New Bermuda is comfortably good enough to blow even Deafheaven’s sceptics away.

Grand Archives offers an impressively alternative take on American indie; blending a number of interesting influences to create a fresh and airy project.

The music of Unmap ticks with signature twists and sounds, things that suggest Justin Vernon could be a national treasure on the lines of Neil Young or Elliott Smith instead of the heartbroken one hit wonder that some might have expected.

From Scotland with Love stands testimony to the increasing genius of Anderson and his craft.

It’s not rocket science, that’s for sure, but there are tunes here that most million-selling bands would give away all of their mansions for.

So far as newcomers are concerned: hop on here, while Oneida are perhaps at their most accessible, and discover one of music’s most inspirationally inventive outfits.

This, like the other excellent records he has given us since his belated emergence into the global limelight, is a work of quiet--but nonetheless defiant--beauty from a true great of contemporary classical music, who we must all continue to cherish for as long as we can. Essential.

When it breaks down to an exquisitely put-together choral section it feels like the band are soundtracking a Tim Burton film, they manage to out-Sufjan Sufjan Stevens on a Christmas record... no mean feat. The admission price is worth paying for this alone.

Wolf's music has always held itself in reverence of a wild, untamed Mother Nature; and while The Bachelor is less organic and unfettered in its sonics than, say, the snap and crackle of Wind In The Wires, its message--to preserve all the things a broadband connection cannot provide for us--is clearer than ever.

Ataraxia/Taraxis reinstates Pelican at the top of the instrumental food chain and, if they continue like this, they show no sign of coming down.

If Fall Be Kind is noticeably less hooky than "Merriweather Post Pavilion," it sounds just as ravishing, and offers an equally cohesive whole.

It’s the kind of album that restores a moribund set of ears into the the place of loving music and all it has to offer, once again. It really does have the potential to draw in fans of multiple genres around the love of one band.

The craft and impact of Opus Alter is something to marvel at, and it will no doubt raise their obsidian star even higher in the stoner firmament.

For now, You’re Welcome is a welcome addition to Wavves’ discography, and achieves a range of maturation, both sonically and topically, that Williams has not previously exhibited.

This is easily as good JoFo’s debut.

In the hands of many other artists, White Lunar would be a career-high achievement. It’s testament to Cave and Ellis’ ongoing relevance that it can be released with relatively minimal fanfare--presumably with the knowledge that it’s merely the tip of a mighty, mighty iceberg.

Some Say I So I Say Light is the attempt to merge a lone voice into the black of the vast, surrounding landscape, and it succeeds absorbingly well.

The album is an enjoyable hodgepodge that trades neat cohesion for scattish variety.

Snaith... continues his legacy of making constantly challenging, changing music that never gets beyond itself, that always remains immensely human.

With Many Colours, Tan proves that whatever happened over the past decade which meant we didn’t get any music from him, it only made Many Colours a stronger, and ultimately a more enjoyable record.

Stylistically there is a different kind of freedom (there is even a nod to garage rock on ‘The Queen Of All Returns’) that seems less about affectation or indulgence and more about adhering to the spirit of each individual song, making for harder-fought but longer lasting rewards.

This is a record to be drunk from deeply, preferably in solitude, along with a bottle of whatever makes you purr as warmly as Sandoval and her Inventions can--and evidently still do--at their best.

The momentum and joie de vivre is intoxicating, and unlike many a transitional record, it's a genuine hoot, an unexpected blast of sunshine between the darkness of Fables… and the fires of Document.

Era is the sort of record you can just sink into.

It might share some sonic similarities [to Sea Change], but it's an altogether brighter beast, built by an older, wiser soul who seems to have been taking a few years to work out exactly where he wants to be as an artist.

The narrative doesn't get in the way of the tunes, and the choruses are pretty versatile as anthems go.

Carry On the Grudge manoeuvres around post-adolescence with expertise. The void might exist, but at least now Jamie T is back there's someone to share the pain with.

With Couples they've managed to turn two years of inter-band heartache into an ambitious, forward-thinking pop record that tops their debut by quite some distance.

It’s vital for the maintenance of Gallows’ present profile that they curb their enthusiasm for experimentation and pushing the envelope of aggressiveness to some degree, and by doing this sensibly, they’ve produced an album that’s big on surprises but that also ticks the essential boxes of heaviness and melody.

On A Mission is on its way to turning that mildly grubby dream into reality.

Artists who operate within a distinct or limited musical template can risk getting stuck in a creative rut, but on this evidence Junior Boys are just too damned good at this game for any such risk.

A tender, smouldering album of drifting, rudderless beauty.

'Guero' contains several familiar sounds merely repackaged and freshened up - remnants of the party album mentality of 'Midnite Vultures' sit next to the eclecticism of 'Odelay' and the folk sensibilities of 'Mutations'. What negates this is the conviction with which it's all delivered.

It's a warm-blooded record, beholden to analogue gear and flawless mastering--one destined to fit snugly on a turntable rather than to live as ones and zeros on your iPod.

Instead of jumping on board the reformation circuit like many of his Nineties contemporaries, Haines has released a concept album about British wrestling. Haines is not mad. He is an artist in the truest sense, and for that he is to be applauded.

Whilst there are many other bands doing futuristic disco, many of which band members have worked with, NZCA Lines’ unrelenting quest for a great hook and massive chorus pushes them ahead of the pack.

She could drop the dodgy cover of ‘Norwegian Wood’ and probably should, but that misstep aside this record’s an engagingly oddball, enchantingly out-there piece of avant-pop that could, with just a little more exposure, be celebrated as one of 2008’s best leftfield albums.

‘Emoh’ is revealing at all times, but utterly dignified throughout, and it’s a wonderful solo record.

In summary, Third World Pyramid could be renamed 'Business As Usual'. However, when business is as productive and efficient as The Brian Jonestown Massacre have been throughout the majority of their existence, it can only be a positive thing.

Here, musically as lyrically, Okereke seems concerned with emotional connection first and foremost, making this a plaintive and engaging experience throughout.

A truly delectably odd album of archaic echoes and future-classic choruses.

This is the sound of three of the human race’s finest sonic ramblers in conversation, and it’s a truly daunting experience to give yourself over to.

With only the occasional deviation into science fiction filler, Themes for an Imaginary Film is an album to strut to.

It's a little less brazen, a little more personal but it fits together as a listen-start-to-finish endeavor as well if not better than any of his previous works and that is testament indeed.

Literally, Potential comes from a place of empathy. So it’s not surprising that it’s best when it isolates all the feelings loaded into a single word or phrase.

Equal parts heavenly aural relief and blood tripping, screaming noise.

They've constructed their most diverse and arguably finest collection to date in fourth long player Into Forever.