Those who don’t want to trawl ebay and other such sites for the out-of-print singles will be happy to have these fabled tracks available to them. It’s just a shame that a release a mere month ago would have allowed more people to fit 'David Christmas' on their festive playlists.

It sounds a bit too much like it was made a year ago for Cloud Control's folk-rock to really stand out against new releases from, say, Okkervil River, or altogether newer acts like Grouplove. That doesn't mean Bliss Release is impossible to enjoy--far from it--but it does make it hard to imagine many new listeners making the time for it, and that's a shame.

It’s odd, yes, and quite, quite daft, but executed with some real charm.

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

With barely a duff song here bar the minor irritations mentioned earlier, Tourist History is an infectious debut that may well divide opinion, but at least suggests that amidst all the uneasy listening and obtuse noises coming out of the underground at present there are still those capable of writing the odd tune or ten.

There are parts of Love What Survives that you’ll want to dive straight back into again (like this track), and then others that are a little more ephemeral.

Mothers is a good, enjoyable album. It isn’t the classic album that Swim Deep have been aiming for, but it feels like they’re tantalisingly close to reaching it come album #3.

If the album looks back more than it looks forward, well, its makers have earned the right to a reprise. But then again, it wouldn’t work so well if they hadn’t managed to evoke something timeless all along.

As it stands it’s an indulgent and, at times, gorgeous listen that merely helps restate your concrete opinions about Muse.

Life Is Sweet! veers so frequently from densely orchestrated to intimately raw and back again - often within the same tune - these little throwaway breaks tend to work as conveniently placed little palate cleansers.

It’s not great, it’s not touching, it’s not... well it’s not anything but autopilot AC/DC, as they have been for many years now and it’s none the worse for that.

While nothing on the album quite reaches those lofty heights [of Pumped Up Kicks], Supermodel far outshines Torches as a whole.

If you had to single out something as being symbolic of 2011, you could do a lot worse than this album.

A step forward into what lies ahead for Dirty Projectors rather than the complete self-immolation of its previous attempt. It seems, however, that while Longstreth has indeed found a 'Break-Thru' he still has some way to go if he's to return to his former glories which, perhaps, are now unobtainable.

Palms is best at its tightest, but is perhaps a tad messier than it really needs to be.

So they missed the bullseye. But that's no reason to yell "sell out!", or to deride them as poseurs.

Full of guest musicians helping to bring his songs to life, this latest record might be a little different to previous Hiss Golden Messenger outings, but it also might be his best.

Like everything on L’Orange, L’Orange, the performance carries a naivety that only adds to the record’s stirring sense of innocence.

The only downside with Imperium is that maybe its creators have neglected the more intricate details of songwriting (verse/chorus/verse anyone?) for an angular propensity but on the whole, it's a finely tuned assortment and another welcome addition to Captured Tracks' impeccable catalogue of riches.

this album is never less than interesting. It’s just that with but a touch of discipline, they could create something truly magical.

Temple sets out to tinker with rather than drastically disfigure his familiar surroundings and for the most part succeeds, with occasional flashes of casual brilliance. That these flashes occur with minimal fuss merely adds to the enjoyment.

It won't win many points for originality--indeed they may lose a few old fans along the way - but this is the sound of a band reborn.

With Dynamics, Holy Ghost! have struck a careful balance between revisiting their mid-Noughties origins and playing with new ideas within a similar arena.

At 13 songs it's an eventful ride and one that takes repeated listens to really click but once it does, Ladytron makes all the right noises in all the right places.

The Argument's cataclysmic clashes and multitudinous puzzle pieces that never quite fit together are the stuff of a deeply flawed classic.

Like an unexpected fist in the face from a five-year-old, Ponytail’s boisterous pop-punk jams are saved from saccharine overkill with some unexpectedly tight hooks, plus a paradoxical, feathery lightness of touch that makes their music feel orgasmically flush even at its churningest and most densely impenetrable.

LP3 will keep a handful of indie-rockers happy but may not satisfy listeners looking for Daft Punk danceability.

They are not in tune with trends, or even an aesthetic, so much as something earthier...the seasons perhaps, because there’s no denying that Gorgeous Johnny has a latitude and a longitude... it’s the sound of a fading summer.

Having set ridiculously high standards in the past both on record and in the flesh, Forget The Night Ahead hovers above the line marked average rather than the higher echelons of greatness its creators undoubtedly strove to achieve.

As a daytime collection of songs this album has its faults, but as long as it's consumed after hours, preferably in a club, it excels with a persona charged with swirls of unbound desire and dance friendly dazzle.

Kapranos and co have delivered what is simultaneously ‘just another Franz Ferdinand’ album and one of the indie records of the summer.

To that extent Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle seems like a return to older pastures--Callahan’s vocals again dominate, the production is more intimate, the songs themselves are again driven forward by the self-same rhythmic percussion and simple guitar riffs that became Callahan’s signature style over the last decade.

Brothers goes straight into the chase for the finest traditional rock album of the year so far, and with a slight trim to its 15-strong run would be a front runner.

While it might not be as iconic as the records it admires, Chewed Corners is an invigorating return for the Planet Mu head honcho.

The songwriting is definitely more consistent than before.

While the ten songs that follow aren’t quite as arresting, there are still plenty of earworms to be found.

Black Hours might be a tad scattershot, but it's held together with real spirit.

For all its manufactured essence, Red remains firmly grounded at the crossroads between innocence and experience.

At 32 minutes, it’s a short album--but one whose brashness and pace you won’t soon forget.

So yeah, maaaaybe Odd Blood isn’t quite the hive of unfathomably exotic treats that a few of the tracks might have initially suggested. Having given us time to prepare for the fact they’re quite the different band from All Hour Cymbals, Yeasayer Mk II have also given us time to realise that Odd Blood probably isn’t likely to go down as their defining statement.

The witty and intelligent intimacy of his lyrics and his finely restrained vocals growing richer with each repeated listen.

Despite the Milberg-centric promo materials, The Concretes are clearly not just a solo star plus musicians, but the more singer-songerwiter-esque songs are the strongest here.

Having slowed down five per cent, you could imagine The Chronicles of Marnia appealing to anyone who liked Sleater Kinney, or Battles, Dutch Uncles, or even Foals, without having the acquired taste for bands as squirky as Deerhoof or Ponytail.

Just before World of Joy threatens to peter out entirely, Howler’s first ever attempt at a ballad strides in to offer some welcome variation.

God’s Favourite Customer isn’t quite perfect - it lags in the final furlong as piano ballads are fallen back upon one too many times (the title track, ‘The Songwriter’) and lacks the unified overarching narrative of ...Honeybear--but it continues to showcase one of the finest songwriters of a generation.

Warpaint are nothing if not ambitious, which is doubly proved on Heads Up.

If you're only half paying attention, it sounds exactly like the stereotype of techno as nothing but an hour of kick drums. This mix delights in small, fiddly details that demand your attention for their enjoyment.

The case for ...Carbon Clouds as a fine collection of inventive indie songs enthusiastically rendered is undeniable, but if somehow you’re hankering after more than that, well...you get the picture.

If French-born London émigrés John & Jehn don’t quite succeed in nailing the stroppy friction of their live shows over the course of their self-titled debut, third base is at least within groping distance.

There are moments when the album loses its focus and blurs into extended jamming that doesn’t go anywhere particularly exciting, although Malone mostly manages to keep those tendencies in check.

To the novice listener, it won’t make a whole lot of sense, fails to indicate any kind of coherence to their overall output, and is probably not the best place to get to grips with them (although where that would be is anyone’s guess). This, no doubt, is the whole point of Trans Am — to confuse and confound, to take inexplicable U-turns just to see what happens, to irritate and amuse at the same time, to lurch from incredibly catchy pop to attempting a critique of the war in Iraq in an instrumental format.

Whether it is a sense of longing or nostalgia at stake, Moon Tides is a solid, inebriating listen that will guide you through your personal transitions and leave you wanting for more.

All told, Static is definitely worth your time, ­but it falls short of being the truly great record that Cults will hopefully go on to make.

Sometimes Screws Get Loose becomes a little samey and repetitious, but overall, its a pleasant antidote to those cold mid-winter blues while providing Those Darlins a steady platform with which to reach a wider audience.

This emotional rollercoaster of an album has a few cleverly disguised cliches similar to 'emotional rollercoaster' embedded in the music and lyrics.

Whether or not the band are more than just a gumbo of their influences is debatable, but in all honesty, OCD Go Go Go Girls is so damnably fun to listen to that you really couldn’t care.

This is their thing, their schtick. And for the most part, bending phil Spector out of shape and dragging him by his hair through a raft of distortional devices and all the while kicking the hell out of the ‘Leader of the Pack’ is a very good thing.

Leanness is their ideal body state, dirt under the fingernails a sign of rude health. No doubt Riot Now! will only be purchased by those who know, but it's a commendable album.

Half one is lovely folk, half two is slightly less even, slightly more idiosyncratic folk.

Semicircle manages to reconnect the group with the childish creativity that powers their best work.

Black Noise was one of electronic music's recent highlights, and if XI Versions is by no means as essential to anyone's collection as Black Noise, but is a fine addition nonetheless.

So many names, so many influences: perhaps unsurprisingly 'Demon Days' is a dizzying, disorientating and sometimes directionless album.

After five albums, and after seven years of silence, it’s obvious now that Art Brut work best when they’re back to basics, reminding us what it might have been like to be fresh out of university in pre-recession times, and ensuring that we can dance along with them while they’re at it.

Although this is a fantastic looking package, it really doesn't strike me as a particularly essential addition to the Smashing Pumpkins canon.

Ultimately, More Life does a terrific job creating a mood with its dancehall-flecked, atmospheric production (handled most impressively by the likes of Nineteen85 and Frank Dukes), and it certainly points to a fascinating fork in the road moment for the world’s biggest rapper.

While that’s frustrating the good stuff here is very, very good, and the less impressive fare on offer shouldn’t dissuade curious ears.

It’s not essential in the way Illinois is essential, but fans would be mugging themselves to not at least give it a whirl.

Destination Tokyo is something of a departure from the group’s previous sound, insofar as it is pared back and produced with more of an eye for clarity.

The whole record possesses an industrial feel, be it in the synths or the drum machines or the moody-sounding atmospherics that are peppered throughout the record. Option Paralysis, may not win back fair-weather fans, but they've again proved why they're regarded as one of the best in their field.

There’s plenty of Near to the Wild Heart of Life that carries the essential appeal of the band in spades, namely, a dedication to giving it your all until you collapse with euphoria and exhaustion.

V A R I A N T’s greatest strength is its palpable character, and his remix struggles to properly distinguish itself on an EP that is filled to the brim with varied and often unexpected takes on Frost’s music.

Its restrained combination of new and old, tradition and innovation, sums up the strengths of OH (ohio), an album which isn't another Lambchop masterpiece, but rather a fine addition to an extraordinary body of work.

All in all Explosions In the Sky still retain their vitality in strong melody and melodramatic disposition, it’s just at times you wish they were a little more daring.

Much like Fleet Foxes, the music contained within isn't particularly ground breaking, but what is done is done well.

While Lambs Anger is in no way easy, brimming with first-degree sonic battery, it is compulsively listenable, and is most likely his, and Ed Banger’s, best album to date.

Although not quite the timeless classic its creators had hoped for, Prisoner is a solid debut that bears all the hallmarks of a bright future for The Jezabels.

Shortwave Nights is a real enigma, and oddly addictive for it.

On Anthology: Movie Themes 1974-1998, Carpenter allows a panoramic view of the music he created to accompany his films that, of course, is hard to separate from the movies themselves.

The cover of the Isley Brothers, "Why When The Love Is Gone" after "Don't Make A Sound" seems like sloppily tagged on attempt to be shown that the group's influences are genuine. Otherwise, Release Me is a perfectly produced pop gem with all substance and a lot of style.

Pere Ubu are somewhere in-between that--impenetrable musique concrete sound collages mixed with upbeat, breezy pop. A strange, strange world to inhabit, but one that’s ultimately as rewarding as it is frustrating.

Setters of trends, they will not be, with this offering. Providers of mindless, chaotic R&R, they most certainly can be.

The Southern gothic touches strewn throughout the album help make this their best set of angry anthems to date.

The beats, hooks and overall feel of these tracks is of a welcome high standard, sitting somewhere between the tried and tested aesthetics of yore and slick reinterpretation.

It won’t change the world, but at the very least, Highest Point In Cliff Town offers us a welcome distraction from it for 40 brief minutes.

It is missing IT - that something that makes a good album into a great, standout album.

There’s no doubt that Few More Days To Go is an intriguing record by a very promising band--but it also feels like this is just a taste of their true power.

Richmond Fontaine hardly deserves any kind of apologetic treatment, if for no other reason than You Can’t Go Back If There’s Nothing To Go Back To is a lively statement at the (supposed) end of a 22-year-run.

All in all, a precious record, this.

It may take some perseverance to get on board here with Gibson’s vision--but, if you achieve that, then you’ll be rewarded with a record that’s as beguiling as it is strange.

This is Butcher Boy's finest hour to date, but by the signs of it the best is yet to come.

There are times though, when the record slips into a degree of smug self-reference that leaves you wishing that Lewis would spend less time considering what it means to be a songwriter, and more time just being one.

This album suggests that there’s gas in the tank yet, especially when such pondering is matched to the spiky, inventive instrumentation on display.

All fascinating stuff, and the resultant album is a fitting testament: exciting, yet flawed like the man (John DeLorean) himself.

For a band whose frequent line-up changes repeatedly threaten to leave them at an impasse, Post Electric Blues is a testament to Idlewild's stylistic and thematic consistency, while standing head and shoulders above the two albums which preceded it, if not quite equalling their career highs.

So whilst the fire might need more kindling before it can truly become a beacon, the potential and ambition cannot be faulted.

‘Hocus Pocus’ is a tricky record to listen to and it’s twisted roots of songs are unlikely to win the band much more than a cult following.

It is nothing more, and nothing less than a decent Morrissey album, and for some that is all the recommendation needed.

This attempt to marry together two equally confrontational (in their own distinct ways) musical forms reaps real rewards, and undoubtedly makes Wake in Fright a more consistently provocative record than the duo’s debut.