As an album, it's divided into eight tracks but there's no sense of division whilst listening to it, it's one of the most seamless pieces of music I've come across all year.

In truth, Animal Collective didn’t really need to depend on the visual accompaniment to Tangerine Reef as the record does extremely well to capture the essence of the life aquatic on its own.

Albert Hammond Jr. has a solid album on his hands, but it is what it is: Momentary Masters isn’t veal, but a damn fine cheeseburger.

It’s just a guy bashing out some songs with a friend back in the Seventies--yet it’s a kind of reverse Best Of: a hits collection of songs before they were ever known, now released after all but two of them are firmly fixed in the Young cannon.

While the album is nicely succinct, it lacks a peak, a song to get really excited about.

What makes the largest impression though, as ever, is Darnielle's ability to build the most affecting of scenes from the smallest suggestion.

A pleasantly surprising album then that will hopefully earn its creator his fair share of deserved recognition.

There’s also an over reliance on the sonic pallette of their Nineties forebears, but those feel like nitpics because Ratworld, despite wearing its influences on its sleeve, presents a world that is uniquely its own.

At only ten songs, it hasn’t the broadness of past, but it is possibly their most cohesive record. Consistency may rarely outrank greatness in order of virtues but if there’s an argument to be made, it’s perhaps found here.

Like their last record, Album of the Year, Sol Invictus is more concerned with playfully nudging at the boundaries of hard rock conventions rather than attempting a dizzy genre-spanning explosion to rival 1995’s King for a Day... Fool for a Lifetime.

A richly ambient affair, it makes for a particularly strong listen via headphones, dread-soaked mist and hopeful shimmers given heightened impact.

Siberia is... essentially a re-make of the Grey Album.

Jiaolong is a living, breathing animal, and all the better for it.

A record for bedroom chilling that has more than enough clout to slot into dance floor sets, it’s a refreshingly vital take on the heavily worked over source material.

Celebrity guest star wobbles aside, Write About Love is a well crafted, very listenable album, one that sees Belle and Sebastian ditch the qualities of their music that were starting to cloy without totally jettisoning the old charm.

Best advice for approaching Worldwide? Stick to moderation. Small doses are a thrill, but consume too much and you’ll find yourself in need of a dark quiet room and a cold wet towel draped across your forehead.

There are some minor criticisms with Underrated Silence, the most obvious being the similarity between most of its ten pieces.

The music is exquisitely played, impeccably arranged and the lyrics are thoughtful and esoteric. The only problem is that it's a bit of a grower.

As second albums go, though, this is exactly what we want to see--a clear a development, a sharpening of powers and a defining of sound. What happens next could be truly spectacular.

There are certainly some succulent dishes on the album ('Xerses' and 'Eats Darkness' for me) but all together I do wonder if someone ordered a bit too much?

A few tracks towards the end of In Guards We Trust will maybe sound better once you’ve fully absorbed the single fodder of the record, but the psychedelic moments of ‘Your Man’ just don’t hit the spot for me as they may for fans of later MGMT noise.

What it really all boils down to is your tolerance for lengthy psyche records, which is what Embyonic undoubtedly is.

Though there’s nothing startlingly new here, this is a consistently engaging record that doesn’t so much successfully straddle metal and post-rock than have both coursing through its veins.

It’s a massive, honest mess, loaded with love. And as such, it might even be called his most definitive album yet.

If it’s slightly weaker than its immediate predecessor, that’s only because it’s following the same furrow.

For the most part, it’s suitably overblown, cocksure and blunt, and still goes some way to capturing the genre's eternal, endearing refusal to grow up. For now, that's reason enough to celebrate their return.

It's no contender for end-of-year honours, but so far as pop goes in 2006, this may well be the pinnacle.

A gorgeous, gripping study of English and north American folk music that covers as many of the genre's quirks as it can, without crawling from cliché to catastrophe.

Astro Coast is a welcome reminder of the youthful vigour and playfulness of early Pavement and Weezer, imbibing the Sixties rule-book of good pop without coming off as a bad pastiche.

Tender but bold and with an array of melodies that strike straight at the heart, it has all the ingredients of a classic Swedish pop album.

This band has a ways to go: they can write more substantial, affecting music than this, their songcraft can indubitably be tightened up. But I think maybe it's Man Alive's sheer confidence that makes me feel alright about saying that: this is a band going places.

Middle Class Rut have crafted a solid release that, while unlikely to set the world on fire, nonetheless makes for an impressive debut.

Sometimes it can feel like wading through mucky water, but it’s far from a bad trip; more like a damn fine party that will no doubt find its home in many fields during the summer months.

Psychedelia with a southern soul lean, it’s a seriously heady piece of music.

My Best Friend Is You is, indubitably, rather daring for a mainstream pop album. Yet for all the Butler-begat polish, it's hard to work out whether it really is a mainstream pop album.

[World Music is] a wonder through the traditional folk and more amplified sounds of the planet's history, yet infused with enough of Goat's own character to all glue together.

The album is no Robyn and it doesn't quite match Body Talk (Part 1) in terms of the sheer number of highs.

As left field and innovative as they come, and while that doesn't always make for the easiest of listens, Invocation and Ritual Dance of My Demon Twin should be applauded for daring to tread where many others would whimper at the thought.

It might not quite pay off as an album in the traditional sense, but in the era of iTunes playlists and vanishingly brief attention spans, Mugiboogie comes packed full of valuable ammunition.

If it's quality songwriting you're after, you've probably come to the wrong place this time, but what New Chain does offer is a 35-minute celebration of the spirituality of sound, bursting with life and soul, as thrilling as it is giddying.

It's not an especially coherent set; because wonderful as most of these songs are, they'd have been better if the perfectionist band had finished them properly.

This is a promising record from a still young UK band who have, with their second record, somewhat mastered their craft and it will be exciting to see where they go next with it.

Mirrorring have created an album that never coalesces, in which it's difficult not to remain conscious of its parts, wonderful as they may be.

Hesketh can write a damn good pop song, and whether that’s what caused the initial buzz, it's something hard to deny when presented with the cold, hard proof of Hands.

Take Care, Take Care, Take Care is the auditory equivalent of a strawberry ice-cream on a sunny day and, however many times you might have tasted one before, it still counts as a treat.

Circles revels in its consistency if nothing else, and while the element of surprise is something one is unlikely to be greeted with by a Moon Duo record, they make business as usual seem like an enjoyable pastime rather than a laborious chore.

Atomic is a soft reset that will allow the band to move in new directions in the future. Its curiosity is infectious and immensely exciting, and it sounds like the result of a group refreshed, hungry and eager to grow.

This still isn’t for everyone, but it’s sounding less like a side-project, and more like a super-group.

There’s a sense of immediacy and even unpredictability in the most restless moments on Everything In Love, which saves the album from being a rather static and defiant contemplation of The Carters’ victories.

It’s a brave step to put down the filters, and embrace organic sounds, and one that is largely successful. However, much like discovering the inspiration of his chosen moniker (apparently he just really likes having a bath), some of the magic is lost in the process.

Newman is easily distracted and that can make Dark Matter a confusing listen at points, but when he gets it right, you’re reminded of what a singular talent he is.

Brill Bruisers--like most albums--isn’t as good as Mass Romantic. But its qualities are manifold, and it is a delight to note that after some 15 years together, the New Pornographers seems to have stopped being a supergroup and turned into a band.

When the band truly comes together, there's a lightness of touch and a winning intimacy.

By providing himself with a narrow set of parameters, he’s discovering what he’s capable of in a less-than-optimal creative environment, and if Intermission is anything to go by, a protracted lay-off from Ghostly releases whilst he pursues other avenues would be a real shame--nobody’s capturing that midnight mood quite like Shigeto at the minute.

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

As debut albums go--and while compiling the record the band disposed of nearly thirty songs--this is a fine, upstanding introduction to the tormented world of The Airborne Toxic Event and one that vivaciously whets the appetite in anticipation of what might come next.

Ty Segall and White Fence haven't reinvented themselves, nor have they revolutionised garage rock, but Hair stands as a welcome reminder of how enjoyable guitar and drum music can be both to play and to hear.

The result is a collection of pop songs with a good sense of both depth and dynamics.

Although perhaps a bit overbearing at 11 songs, Bachelorette is a worthwhile collection of distinctive orchestrations that should propel Annabel Alpers even further into the limelight.

What makes a person charming--songwriter or not--is that adaptability to a situation. It’s the sort of malleability we lose as age hardens us or we simply get stuck in our ways. But Eugene McGuinness hasn’t lost it yet.

R Plus Seven can be confusing, jam packed with samples and contrasting elements, but it's never overbearing. At the same time it is hard to put your finger on exactly what is appealing about it.

.5: The Gray Chapter stands tall; not just as tribute, but as vital catharsis.

No one will begrudge him returning to his day job with Grizzly Bear, but anyone who hears In Ear Park will be hoping he takes another working holiday as soon as he gets the chance.

With The Lookout, Veirs has synthesised both these personal and political feelings into something that can sometimes feel timeless, offering a beacon to hold in the darkness.

Following a good few listens, Up From Below's ebb and flow is replaced with definite peaks and troughs, leaving such highlights dulled down.

It’s definitely an accomplished one with plenty to recommend in its sonic traits.

It’s a--for the most part successful--attempt to reach across divides in a world which seems more confusing by the day, a battle against the increasing entropy which seems to be seeping in at the edges of all our existences.

Gioele Valenti and Nicola Giunta have created an album that is not a gale, or a draught; it is an engaging, sonic zephyr.

Sometimes there's a feeling of business as usual--both 'Heathens' and 'Avalanche Of Light' fall into that category--but then when your legacy is as distinguished as The Cult's, such a trait should not be scoffed at.

Regardless of the songwriter, the lyrics overlap from track to track, and no doubt there will be a few erudite folks campaigning to weave a singular poetic storyline for our edification. Whether this is by design, or simply the product of the fanciful imaginations of Wolf Parade fans, the casual listener is rewarded with a batch of songs that works best when taken from a beginning-middle-end perspective.

The highlights of No. 2 certainly suggest that thinking bigger might see Vantzou produce something more spectacular in the future. For now though we can at least be thankful that she has once again produced something that paints several shades of beauty on its minimalist canvas.

All in all, a fine introduction to the compelling Will Johnson, but a peculiar idea, to make a painfully intimate album with two songwriters rather than just one.

The immediacy of ...Night Fall's melodies and the satisfaction derived from its buttressing rhythms will generate just about enough pleasure for most.

Okovi won’t topple Stridulum II as the most essential Zola Jesus record, but it’s another excellent record that once again showcases a unique and powerful voice.

Despite the energy and marching delivery, the band's musings often ring quite delicate. They're never fragile, however.

Take Care is dense and takes a while to digest, but once you're in Drake's world there's no escaping.

Some of the ramshackle charm that pervaded their Christmas record is missing here too--the major label money and the massive orchestra having presumably buffed the edges, which feels a shame. Still, all in, it’s a hard heart that dismisses a solid record of wonderful songs done well.

While New View may be musically somewhat muted, sonically a touch predictable and backward-looking, Friedberger still crafts utterly charming songs with brilliantly observed moments and a real sense of life’s great adventure.

It's still retro, of course, but it's starting to sound retro in a way that only Tennis can.

Occasionally vague, sometimes incohesive and a little self-indulgent it may be, but ultimately Abnormally Attracted to Sin is an abnormally attractive piece of work, and another fine example of the shining talent that is Tori Amos.

Hereditary is well worth a listen for a Colin Stetson fan who isn’t really into horror films though as it showcases something that his solo releases lack: overdubbing.

Proclamations that only the music matters, not the units shifted, are liable to ring a little hollow. Nevertheless, there's a lot to like about Body Talk Pt. 1.

It’s an unapologetically impressive and precise record that could do more to reach out and connect, rather than just dancing off, expecting the listener to follow.

On La Di Da Di Battles feel like they are, slowly, finding their way in the right direction.

Somewhat uneasy listening in places, yet sublime in others, Given To The Wild should rid The Maccabees of those 'landfill' jibes once and for all.

Another Happy Day creeps you out, sucks you in and gracefully spits you back again, with a renewed sense of comfortable discontent.

With Eggs, Oh No Ono have created an album that, like Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion this time last year, allows you to forget the last vestiges of snow outside and look towards the summertime.

Amplifier sound confident and in control of their own future, while remaining aware and appreciative of their past--and that’s by no means a bad place to be.

What the trio lack in pure, ear-fizzing originality, they happily make up for in solid listenability.

[The] expansive and slightly melancholy tone which has always been at the core of his music does feel slightly constrained when he tries to squeeze it into a verse chorus verse structure: the best moments on Similes come when he simply lets it wander free.

After 21 years, it's hard to believe Tjinder Singh and Ben Ayres are still capable of producing moments as vivid and relevant as these.

These tunes are fun and youthful, but also grown up and varied--there’s something for everyone here, whether you’re blasting this record at the park with mates or in the car on a road-trip or sitting on the beach--all you need is a little sunshine and wine (not in the car, though, please) and let Thomas, Garbus and Weisman take you to that place we all remember well (fondly or not).

At Best Cuckold isn't an explosive game changer, nor is it particularly different to what's already out there, but it sure as hell earns a proud place above its peers.

Despite perhaps being a little too tasteful to truly excite, Big Black Coat is an accomplished, soulful effort that will reward casual listeners and audiophiles alike.

Where Adele sounds like a method actor, Marling weaves secretive threads of thought that suggest she’s agonised over things long enough for them to come together with a thud in plain-spoken full stops.

It’s a bold album, even in its prettiest, most pastoral moments.

At times it feels distinctively as they are seeking to make as much noise as it’s possible for two people to make together at any one time rather than anything more subtle or nuanced as that, but there are moments, more than a few of them on Walks for Motorists where the alchemy is programmed just perfectly and something happens.