There's an inner beauty--no, honesty--to this debut.

The result is a bright and breezy album that’s easy to like, even if Dawn’s palpable enthusiasm does occasionally tip over into being cloying.

Thanks to the similarities in vocal styles, it’s easy to compare Widowspeak with other acts around, and it’s fair to say that there’s plenty here for fans of such acts to admire. However, there’s also more here for anyone willing to look deeper, especially if you’re fond of a little country-tinged drama with your reverb and wistful vocals.

Not only is Holy Fire utterly sublime, it’s a record that’s been six years in the making.

They may have churned their sound into something new, but their heart and their character is still very much in the right place, and that’s what makes Heartthrob more than just a brilliant pop album, it’s unarguably a brilliant Tegan & Sara album and it’s very, very close to being perfect.

We Will Not Harm You is well-crafted enough that the looping repetition is pleasing, with the dominant bass thwacking out grooves which just play on and on.

Conduit is short, vicious, angry and their most singular album to date but this lean and stripped down approach isn't a total success.

This is music that challenges and provokes.

Matt Caughthran's vocals have never been stronger, more melodic or capable of holding centre stage. Yet coupled with the slicker sheen to the LP (self-made in their new home studio) it has pushed some of their material into territories traditionally inhabited by the totally underwhelming.

News From Nowhere is an album which blossoms over the course of its running time.

Not all of the tracks hit their mark, and this is a far cry from the standard of much of E's earlier material. But it is nonetheless a good record.

In terms of vulnerability, adrenaline-overdrive and frivolous riffing, however, II is firing on all cylinders.

Overall, Regions Of Light And Sound Of God is a good rather than great album, lacking some of the spine-tingling dynamics of My Morning Jacket but delivering a consistent vision than many of their efforts.

Despite the heterogeneous nature of the album as a whole, Patton is never out of his depth, even when paired with unusual collaborators.

Although not quite possessing the gobsmacking "WOW!" factor of Veronica Falls' debut, Waiting For Something To Happen is an often revealing and utterly compelling follow-up that is sure to feature in many an end-of-year best of list come December.

There are still places to go, but this is an early contender for album of the year.

The music frequently bludgeons the listener into wondering why the song wasn't cut dead about three minutes ago.

Collections is enjoyable, in the way that ready meals can be enjoyable, with their sugar hit and empty calories, their disposability and easy consumption.

Like Arab Strap with bellbottoms and flower necklaces in place of the drum machine, Shapiro and Green are a match made in heaven who explore every corner of romantic hell.

It strikes the prefect balance: accessible, yet with enough idiosyncrasy to make it more than just a formulaic retread of past glories.

While there are some lovely sounds on Somewhere Else... but it's hard not to yearn for something more.

The template hasn't changed much, and to some extent this is no bad thing.

What we get is Britain's best proper rock band doing what they do until we're numb to what makes them special.

Its fervent technicality can leave it feeling soulless, lacking grit, bite or real emotion. It can become stifling and songs tend to blur together. But there are moments of beauty too.

Despite the self-therapy and tonal lulls, Christopher is a highly listenable affair that produces two truly outstanding moments.

These songs don't linger too long, and the album--with its 36-minute runtime--feels efficient and complete.

A Long Place To Fall might not be outlandish enough to acquire Ulrich Schnauss an entire new legion of fans, but those discovering him for the first time could find far worse places to start.

Sounding big may be a pretty good way to get a support slot with the biggest bands in the country and, in time, the world, but after a point you need more to say.

Let It All In is a tighter, more relaxed LP, full of beautifully restrained, crafted songs.

Esben and the Witch seem stuck on an autopilot where any levity is out of bounds and an abyss beckons for all the wrong reasons.

Far from falling under the weight of either expectation or ambition, {awayland} is a far more magnificent progression from Jackal than any of us could have hoped for.

Lysandre justifies its own existence by virtue of its own wide eyed wonder, its own vulnerability, and its giving sense of heart.

Their second full length album, Sunshine--which had its US release back in October--wonderfully demonstrates the finesse necessary to play noise rock.

Pantha du Prince has gone one further and created a piece of music that soothes and entices even the most impatient of modern ears.

There's nothing showy here, nothing flashy, just an understated, immaculately put together collection of happy and sad, yearning and sweet songs.

A little shallowness is fine by me, but Rocky's studied, humourless delivery is harder to swallow.

Arc is an album with which deep engagement will reward and delight in equal measure.

Although this is a far cry from the standard of their late Seventies heyday, the band have continued down their obscure path with little deviation, creating a sound which, although challenging and on occasion elitist, is there own.

As extraordinary and original as the film itself, Berberian Sound Studio is both a bona fide film score and consistent electronica album, and in the wake of Trish Keenan's tragic death carries the very real air of a requiem.

Shapeless moments aside, Sleep Games emerges as a strong enough entry point in either Pye Corner Audio's discography or the murky world of Ghost Box.

The collection and especially the new songs have the feeling of a last hurrah.

A failed experiment then, all the more painful for the potential it showed.

The (mostly) astoundingly energetic Family is further justification of this band's fast rise and an album The Cast of Cheers can be proud of.

Even the most ardent of fans may find themselves somewhat irked to be given essentially the same album, from the same band for the fourth time.

An experiment in style that is perhaps a little confusing at first; but more than makes up for it in its grace.

Minor criticisms aside, this is still a highly enjoyable record that knocks spots off most of the competition still tripping over each other's shoelaces to be the most shambolic lo-fi band in town.

Maybe some of the subtlety of the original is lost in the symphonic throb of this new arrangement but it's still a stunning, gleaming celebration of endurance and life even in the midst of bruises and hurt.

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.

This record shows that they have the unerring ability to craft a record that sounds exactly like its influences but remains exciting and thrilling.

So it wasn't because Blur gave the most outstanding performance of their two-decade career that justified their rejection of what I'll call the Seymour route. It was the timing, the sense of 'crowning achievement', the feeling of poetic justice. As a document of that, Parklive is worth your money.

In the case of Sushi, about half the album is worth hearing.

An enjoyable offering from a genuine treasure.

Like other effective instrumental LPs, The Most Beautiful Ugly compiles a series of vignettes into one coherent stream.

More than anything, what impresses about Contrast is the quality of songs on offer.

It's very odd, varies wildly in tone and has its fair share of clunky bits, but it's all done in the spirit of fun and is always endearingly sincere.

As an album it's neither bombastic enough to immediately grab you by the throat and refuse to let go, nor subtle and intricate enough to demand and reward repeated listens.

It's great, but for all Butler's desire to bring this to the now it's best enjoyed by those who are able to take this as a polished trip down memory lane or as a launch pad to jump back into the history of dance music.

Although he makes Hello Skinny as unique-sounding as he can, Skinner also keeps it listenable, his hybrid sounds coming across as warm rather than overpowering.

A compelling record then all told, and one which should hopefully ensure Marshall has the benefit of a label suitor for his next release if there's any justice.

A Oneida stop-gap rehearsal session is more satisfying than most bands' carefully crafted showcase albums, but this LP doesn't reach the same dizzy heights as their previous run of mind-blowing releases.

The music is returned front and centre for an album that's finer than the Biophilia source materials that spawned it.

Carry On is a solid, if rarely remarkable work, showcasing an artist maturing at his own pace, and sounding content and comfortable in his form.

It is the preponderance of bland dance tracks (the inane 'Go Hard (La.La.La)', 'Twerkin'' and the abysmal 'luV haus' et al) lacking the wit of her previous singles, which consign this debut to a failure.

There are no bad songs on Inner Classics,, no painful moments, no dodgy production or misjudged directions. But there's not much else either.

Accelerator's savage vitality hasn't diminished one iota in the intervening decade-and-a-half: quite what point it's ultimately trying to make remains typically elusive, but you get the sense that it's somehow been proved right in the long-run.

Warrior is never dull, always fun, and frequently a thrillingly unpredictable ride.

Play might be a bit of a thrown together casserole of tracks, but it's an enjoyable one that only the coldest hipster would begrudge the Brewises.

Cells is coherent, yet not without the odd welcome respite or a few anomalies.

Although Kember's trademark floaty production sound is omnipresent at the forefront throughout, its Porpora's disconsolate vocal performance that steals the show.

Moments of quality do intersperse these drags.

Spiderwebbed is dreamy, it's beautiful and it's one of 2012's finest debut albums without question.

Raving, romantic and graceful, it's what might happen if Britpop had gone to finishing school, and even includes a final guitar treat for anyone who tuned in the hope of another round of Olympian.

Whatever happens next, she can rest assured safe in the knowledge that together with her beau they've conjured up one of 2012's--or any other year in recent memory--finest debuts.

For Skelethon is the kind of record an artist only makes once in their career; the culmination of long-gestation, departing loved ones and having to innovate out of your comfort zone.

In spite of Rihanna's best efforts, Unapologetic is more depressing than offensive.

They're not concerned with clunky subgenres or fitting into anyone's neat little boxes. With Instrumental Tourist, it is what it is.

Living With Ghosts, probably his most punishing set of tracks to date, is a British techno album whose ancestry lies in (to name only five) James Ruskin, Oliver Ho, Surgeon, Regis and Planetary Assault Systems.

It's those thematic ideas of self-worth and pride that beget the sort of personal, intimate relationship that we've come to recognise in the music of many of the Erased Tapes family over the last five years, and that's something that will always be worth hearing.

Celebration Day is a fitting title: it's an enchanting tribute to the eternal power of rock, no matter the age of the music or the performers themselves.

It's a record that can be enjoyed on a simple music level, but also explored as an interesting take on a particular historical period.

Sequitur feels very much like a whistle stop tour of the history of ambient/electronic music.

Like Within and Without, it's no overhaul, but Young Hunger has a much more immediate presence, more direct in both a melodic and emotional sense and generally with a lot more 'oomph'.

The music here is more considered and richly teased out.

They've made a modestly magnificent record that entirely validates this reformation.

Lonerism marks Tame Impala's arrival as a genuine force to be reckoned with, and even if at times there's a feeling Parker's trying to cram too many ideas into one piece, it's a record that will undoubtedly be used as a benchmark for guitar music of the near future.

While a gradual refinement is noticeable from House Of Balloons to Echoes Of Silence, a lack of breathing space between the tracks does them no favours. You're better off dedicating yourself to each album's meaty serving of revelry and regret in turn.

On one end, it sounds like a straightforward film score. In another instance, it's perfect headphone music for self-study or personal contemplation.

If iii was a pizza it would be kinda disgusting to look at, it would never really cool down and it would probably give me indigestion, but it would taste absolutely delicious.

Dos! is a reliably fun, garagey treat--and should be viewed as no more than that.

As an album King Animal remains a somewhat numbing listen, its components, as excellent as they individually often are, making for a rather wearing collective, undeniably muscular but curiously unmemorable.

This is widescreen alt-rock with an appropriately mammoth production, where euphoric choruses and crushing verses don't just sit alongside each other but ebb and flow to become inextricable entities.

The Bears for Lunch is business as usual: more songs about airplanes and beer, as David Byrne would say.

While it's obviously been personally cathartic, you have to think that it's far from the best record Benjamin could have put out.

This is the sound of a well established, accomplished singer and production crew that have earned their right to do what they want to a high standard.

Nine Black Alps clearly do 'get' what is so satisfying about the particular well of alternative they drink from, even if it hasn't really been all that alternative for 20-plus years.

The surreality and absurdity of dance music from the apocalypse is a joyful alternative to the surreality and absurdity of disaster movies and real life disasters.

This is a bad album. The power ballads have some good elements. You might sing one of these songs at karaoke one day. You should not listen to this album in its entirety.

For whilst Rave Age isn't as bad a set of tunes as the title would have you believe, it is undoubtedly more of the same yet less of a coherent album.