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.

While Causers Of This appears lo-fi on a superficial level with its rough, oversaturated sound quality, it's evident that Bundick has achieved a level of familiarity with his tools which goes way beyond awkward, sophomoric fumbling.

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

Unlike Madonna who seemed to just ingest cool genres, it seems from the very concept of this album and woven into her manifesto, that Gaga gets far more about the modern world than she's letting on.

Initally, it all rushes by so fast as to rock you onto your heels, but further listens offer a quick grasp of a set of insidiously catchy songs.

It feels like there are more synthetic things of interest here. There are significantly less organic things--lyrics, sentiments, meaning--that will keep you coming back.

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.

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

Creating a 19-track album out of Black Lips’ brand of messy psychedelic punk was always going to be a huge ask. And they have nearly pulled it off.

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

Without the installation, Dimensional People feels a bit 2D. There’s a piece of the conceptual puzzle just out of reach, and I’m not really sure what to do with all the other bits.

With Champ they have rekindled the catchiness and immediacy of their first offering.

It's no good for serious contemplation, but then I doubt that's what it's intended for – definitely one to keep handy for a sleepy August afternoon.

Higher Than The Stars is a fitting way to end 2009 for one of the most exciting bands to emerge this year, and more importantly, hints that The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart may be capable of even greater things in 2010.

While sometimes The Final Frontier seems to mine the Maiden groove until the canary chirps its last, the better songs are an indication that they aren't yet trading solely on their reputation.

Just like some of the better acts from that period, Breakfast suggests that Teleman’s music will stand the test of time.

Foo Fighters are now flabby, creaky, and worst of all past it.

Ultimately, depending upon how you felt about their last record Mirror Mirror is either a return to, or continuation of, form.

On the whole Mr Love & Justice is an album that sounds like it was made for the sake of it rather than to cascade any real statement of intent.

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

The quiet simplicity of these songs is better suited to Fink’s lone voice, clear without a jumble of voices and complex harmonies, strengthening the continuity of the storytelling.

Akerfeldt should be praised for breaking free of an often repetitive genre--there's nothing wrong with radical reinvention. But this departure didn't need to be quite so lacklustre.

End Times is a break-up album that lashes relationship breakdown onto societal collapse, and rarely has Everett sounded so plaintive, so utterly broken down.

Praxis Makes Perfect only suffers in comparison to its predecessor in that it lacks a clear standout track in the same vein as Stainless Style’s ‘I Told Her On Alderaan’, but it works better as a cohesive record.

Just how often you'll revisit Forth after the initial flush of interest is debatable, because it hasn't really moved things anywhere for them.

A tender, smouldering album of drifting, rudderless beauty.

To reiterate, then: it’s not the third Beirut album, like, proper. But as a means of sating collective appetites before that record does arrive--heightening expectations, even--it is a remarkable achievement.

There are just enough love songs in there to keep it rock, just enough instrumentals to edge it back towards the cinematic, and more than the usual helping of skill to smooth off the edges and end up with a beautifully rounded, awesome debut album.

Both the Laurel Halo and Panda Bear collaborations are sadly somewhat dreary by comparison, making Tracer sag at its centre.

Boasting the talents and a depth of spirit of an artist twice her age, I Predict A Graceful Expulsion is a majestic powerhouse of a career starter.

Secret House's obvious appeal lies entirely with its musical, or rather compositional, diversity.

His heart is worn clearly on his sleeve without becoming too overbearing and the final product is nothing short of profound.

Somewhere around track eight, the formula starts to wear thin, and the mood lightens a little to a sort of murky, sleepless pre-dawn--it’s not quite sunshine, or it’s supposed to be, but Blank Dogs can’t really make sense of the big glowing thing in the sky.

Most of the tracks here would sound great in that context, but put together here and it leaves you wanted something a little more ragged.

Yet, as a whole, the record has one obvious flaw: it's dreary.

Blood & Chemistry is a sound debut that despite its flaws, will whole-heartedly be welcomed by alternative rock fans.

Most of these are just too damn long, and don’t develop too far past theme-and-variation rounds. Plus, Sarp taps along at the same stately tempo for nearly all his parts, so every song merges unwillingly into the next.

For an album with no discernible weak links--we'll deduct a mark simply because half these songs were previously available--the final quarter is where Veronica Falls finds itself elevated alongside 2011's best.

If you expect anything that deviates from their cemented formula or a radical reinvention, then Junto is not for you. If you are happy to enjoy the ride while it lasts, it is the perfect soundtrack to an Indian summer.

At a time when many electronic albums sound more like mixed sets than collections of songs, this expansive double album is all the more impressive, with its 33 abruptly separated songs holding the listener captive within Zomby’s edgy world for well over an hour.... It’s unnervingly beautiful.

This isn't a rave record. It was never supposed to be. It's a wildly varying catalogue of melody and energy that eschews genre and scene in favour of songwriting and awe-inspiringly beefy production.

99 Cents doesn’t exactly deliver the discussion on commodity and the self promised on the cover. But Santigold have assembled a fine package, one which showcases White and her undeniable swagger.

Acolyte certainly won't be 2010's most adventurous album, but it's not trying to be. Instead, it's almost certain to be one of the year's most immediate and assured records, particularly for a debut, boasting any number of potential hit singles.

It's a more than satisfactory return for a band whose live performances this past couple of years suggest they're here for the long haul rather than any financially induced pangs of sentiment or nostalgia, and if Content is anything to by, one suspects the Gang Of Four's creative tank is far from empty

It's an album of razor-sharp irreverence, infectious energy and, beneath its surface, genuinely intelligent songwriting.

Listen to Still Night, Still Light for what it is and its unlikely you will end up disappointed.

They have yet again created a record of consistent dependability, but sadly it fails to excite and veers too close to the middle of the road.

There's flashes of Jimmy Eat World brilliance and even a few classics in there, but this is an album that's also prone to a few fillers and cheesy one liners.

Dept. of Disappearance is a good album that makes for a pleasing listen, despite its lack of ambition.

Over the course of OF Tape Vol 2, souless-ness has curdled into banality.

Essentially, Made Of Bricks is comprised of a lot of below-par b-sides, three pretty special tracks and then bunch of 'nice tries'...but don't expect anyone to be whistling them in three months' time.

The record sounds like a seamless amalgamation of the three Hole eras (punk, grunge and rock), with Dalle’s ska roots almost entirely supplanted in favour of a grungier muse.

Beautiful Thing can be marked down as an interesting experiment but not a great record. It may end up being loved by hardcore fans of his song-writing but there won’t be a lot here for casual fans to come back to.

Arguably the 2017 Fall is the purest version of the band there has ever been. This, you imagine, is what the inside of Smiths fogged head sounds like. Which is possibly why New Facts Emerge is one of the best things Smith has put his name too in a decade, the most complete and satisfyingly bonkers Fall album since 2008’s Imperial Wax Solvent.

In summary, this is an album which is trying to be lots of things for lots of people. The sadness being that where Royal Blood appealed to so many because of its abandoned musicality and aggression, How Did We Get So Dark? may run the risk of losing its soul and beating heart in order to please the masses.

SHIRT’s version boasts a stark separation from the dirty south that feels long overdue. As he continues to explore the arts and its many forms, SHIRT needs to better develop his lyrical skill if pure beauty is what he aims to achieve, but this debut marks a promising start.

If these average songs existed without the mercurial glow burning beneath the surface, you could unconcernedly dismiss it as another so-so album.

It may be somewhat on the lofty, artistic side, but bounty manages somehow to avoid ostentation; it is largely elegant, grounded and rewarding.

The thrill of being a band again with an arsenal full of ideas means it's a lot more focused. They've managed to create powerful rock and tender ballads without needing to rely on the guitar riff as a means of expression--energy simply oozes out of their every move.

Individual instruments are easier to identify, and NIN now sound like more of an organic unit that's augmented by machines and electronics, rather than driven by them. It also contains some of the most accessible and light-hearted numbers that Reznor's produced in his career.

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.

Teenager is consistently rewarding, then; what it lacks though is bite.

Lollipop is the sound of three relatively _cheerful old men continuing to ignore and deride contemporary fashions and faddisms, playing the music they like to play and having a ball doing it. And what could be more punk rock than that?

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.

Cerebral Ballzy is an album too desperate for your immediate attention to have any concerns beyond the last bar of 'Anthem'.

All are decent enough but, when placed alongside the album's standout moments, they aren't quite as dazzling. Not like that really matters though, because there are standouts throughout.

Marilyn Manson has always possessed the ability to write and produce music that can speak at its own compelling length and pitch. Here he unleashes that side of his frayed character for the first time in about 14 years.

It’s just that on Don’t Forget Who You Are he and his new collaborators have turned everything up to 11 in a transparently concerted effort to throw him into the spotlight, but in setting him apart from his previous work he’s lost many of the idiosyncrasies which made him interesting.

This feels like an opportunity missed; his defences are never truly down, and we’re only offered tantalising glimpses of what might have been.

In general, Voices in a Rented Room is a pleasant if undistinguished record, two old friends revelling in each other’s company and mutual talents with the occasional moment of technical or emotional aplomb interrupting the bonhomie.

It’s just a shame to have squandered the momentum of the Brits by turning in a weaker album than the lower key "Fundamental;" a good two decades after the event, the Pet Shop Boys have well and truly entered middle age.

She may be about to extract herself from the heat-warped dazzle pop of Good Evening, which is probably a good idea considering the amount of opaque imitators crushing hard on her heels, but for now Gonzalez has created one of the most understated and beautifully murky pop records of 2009.

Together does not scale the heights of Mass Romantic and Twin Cinema, but then, The New Pornographers have already made Mass Romantic and Twin Cinema. This is something new, something hopeful.

Far from implying that mind-expansion = mesmerising creativity, jj no 3 unfurls like it's going through the course of a drug-induced reaction.

On Romantic Comedy the fuzz has been wiped away, leaving a shiny surface that, whilst impressively gleaming, suffers from a lack of texture.

All My Relations isn’t a replacement for a brand new Lightning Bolt album, the last one of which dropped in 2009, but it scratches many of those itches, while also fully justifying existence on its own terms.

Baby 81 is simply BRMC doing what they do best, and for the first time since their debut record six years ago they actually sound like a band that enjoyed themselves while making this album.

Fight Softly isn’t in the same league as Clouds Taste Metallic however, which, let’s face it, is among the very faintest of criticisms, but the fact remains that it is slightly hit and miss in places.

The midas pop touch that ran through 1989, on which she struck the perfect balance between her past and present selves, is lacking here; she’s sacrificed some of it for such a wholesale acceptance of current pop trappings. What’s refreshing about Reputation, though, is that she’s no holding holding the mask so tightly to her face.

It is a towering, complex achievement and startling progression to boot.

If Li was a Pokémon collector So Sad So Sexy would have caught ‘em all, but alas--this is music; and the truth is Li should really leave the hip-hop influences too Janelle Monae and Lorde.

It’s refreshing to hear his music decontextualised--without a wider narrative, or the restraint of having to make an album as a piece, it’s Ashworth’s songwriting that has to hold the collection together.

Modular Living represents a visionary and varied sonic palette befitting of its influences.

Acoustic Dust, really, is one for Youth completists; it’s not that Ranaldo doesn’t possess a mastery of the acoustic guitar, but rather that he’s failed to adequately display it on an album that sounds every bit as hastily recorded as it actually was.

This is a record that feels alarmingly lacking in purpose from a band whose glory days are now a good decade behind them. This one is for completists only.

On Glory it is something to celebrate; the sound of a Britney Spears much more confident and comfortable in herself than she has seemed in years.

While reference points are few and far between throughout Locus, those that linger are of artists equally as disparate in their output. Which is why Great Ytene stand out as an anomaly themselves. A record worth investing money, time and effort into.

Femi Kuti is still an entertaining performer and One People One World is almost tailor-made for live shows with its sharp performances and joyful tone. But listening to it on its own is a much less satisfying experience. These songs are too similar in tone and message, and unfortunately that makes for an undynamic album.

With Ultra, Zomby might have finally removed any remaining warmth from his sound: the album is cold to the point of inaccessibility.

Overall, Rather You Than Me is another example of Ross’ gift at making albums, even though he litters the radio with corny one liners.

Fragrant World is by far the band's most immersive and consistent record, a buzzingly exotic mass of nervy future soul and paranoid disco that grows in stature with each listen.

Three of the songs are between seven and ten minutes long and make for laboured listens and sadly, the lack of song variety doesn’t really fit in a volume that’s meant to reflect lightness.

Whilst everyone else continues to pelt fellow pastiche merchants White Lies with sticks and dried lumps of shit, I might unfortunately suggest Cherish The Light Years to be an equally deserving recipiant of your faecal ammunition.

Beacons Of Ancestorship is pretty much what the avid Tortoise fan would consider par for the course, in that its a veering cascade of inherent surprises that never fails to astound, amaze or disappoint.

This isn’t merely a remarkable return: it’s one most one of the most assured--and assuredly rewarding--albums of the year thus far.

Sébastien Tellier has a tendency to tackle substantial topics, and it often smacks of dilettantism.

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.

It's something that can be quite brilliant: to paraphrase Special Agent Dale Cooper--Squarepusher's path is a strange and difficult one.