There’s absolutely no doubting the supreme quality of Wilderness of Mirrors, the first work that English has conceived as a traditional album since 2011.

Get Tragic, quite candidly, is a virtually perfect record. There’s nothing about it that’s out of place. It draws on the best parts of the band’s past history, catchy choruses, glam-rock guitars, electronic riffs that don’t leave your mind for days, mind-blowing lyrics--all combined with a glamour that lurks at the edge of the hometown you escaped, as the sun slowly sets.

Human Performance sees Parquet Courts deliver ideas with laser accuracy.

Grey Tickles, Black Pressure is a rich, dense and rewarding album. Dig deep into it and watch it envelop you--decay and chaos has rarely sounded so seductive.

Yes the songs are catchier and slightly better executed, and the music evokes a by gone era but remains grounded in the modern world so it’s not a pastiche, but it all sounds, well, too safe.

There’s the same pent up aggression and wall of sound production, but Pissed Jeans have taken that blueprint and given it grunt and bite, via Korvette’s insurance-salesman-by day-everymanism and Bradley Fry’s knack for turning guitar sludge into genuine riffs.

Whether the songs zip like ‘Ringfinger’ or sprawl like ‘Rainy Summer’, they all feel very much of one piece, giving them a cumulative strength beyond their individual merits.

Thanks to a couple of moments where they give in to the anthemic impulses, the rest of Slave... can afford to drift along at its own singular pace, with rewarding results.

It's consistent and enjoyable, showcasing some nice new ideas while continuing to pull off the same tricks that Flying Lotus has been using to make a name for himself 2010.

The best moments on the album are the ones that grab you just as things start feeling too samey.

Silent Alarm's not 100% filler-free - the forgettable 'So Here We Are' could have slipped out the back with little protest - but the autonomy, creativity and sheer, elastic beauty that spans this debut more than justifies the rapidly accelerating hype that Bloc Party are currently generating.

This is essential listening and a likely cult classic for years to come.

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.

Whatever the case, Adore Life still feels like a step forward, not because it’s different, but because it’s more so.

While the band have clearly slowed down to create their fifth record, Painted Ruins shows no signs of stopping their quality of sound and long may that continue.

'Mercury' from 1993 is widely regarded as AMC's finest moment, albeit their flawed masterpiece. This new album is right up there with it, and 1990's 'Everclear', too.

Wells and Moffat have created a stunning album that assures us of the death and decay that is to come, but equally, they tell us, as long as we are still around, there is life to be lived, and music like this to be heard.

For the most part, Deloused In The Comatorium is truly exquisite and well worth the wait.

The sensitive sections are fine but tritely Musak at times. The power-soul sections feel a bit, sorry but, Jools Holland-y. There's nothing concrete that you can pinpoint that makes it feel false or weak per se.

Simple, patient, dreary (in a good way) music dominates this soundtrack, providing the perfect accompaniment for Sheff to wail off about doctor and patient sex in a shrink office, society’s pervasive attraction to celebrity and the plights of aging, among other topics.

Learning is a likewise bruised [as the album cover] and suggestive affair; of catharsis and rare, redemptive beauty, which ranks as one of the most uniquely endearing and quietly forceful debut albums of recent years.

Far more than with his first album Overgrown is focused upon his songwriting rather than his technology, and it’s much stronger for it.

Amply weighted for a debut, Silence Yourself comprises a balance of really excellent stuff and the simply very good.

It’s easy to overlook a few fizzles in an album stuffed with fireworks.

Not easy, but often fascinating, wholly rewarding and genuinely cathartic.

Its strangeness is all-pervasive, yet understated. It‘s Deerhunter’s quietest record to date, and not exactly lacking in hooks--’Element’ and ‘Plains’ are earworm-ish. And yet everything’s ineffably odd. ... But it all adds to the the album’s allure--a singular thing, not quite of this world, desert fruit ripening quietly on the eve of the end.

It doesn't have to be anything more than the two things it certainly is: a tribute to a longtime bandmate and friend, one in which he gets to take part in spite of departing the planet, and a collection of songs which at different points are clever, funny, fulsome and moving.

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.

Easy listening this amn’t, but if you want a rollercoaster ride into deep recessions and to be thrilled by the sounds that surround you, then this could be the perfect album for you.

Depending how much you dig [Alt-Country], there are either one or two fairly splendid albums embedded in these 22 songs, running to 64 minutes in total.

It’s easy to see them as a very promising one act; a band taking familiar styles and crafting them into a memorable, accessible whole, with a strong stream of creativity flowing throughout.

It’s unassumingly loud, and intensely physical, wrestling with the listener in a swarm of noisy sax blasts, gnarly riffs, and often surprisingly catchy math themes. Nonetheless, it feels unfinished.

There’s no slack on the album--from the starting gate to the finish line, Chorusgirl bristle with static and nerves.

It’s an astounding record from a trio still at the most embryonic of stages. We’ll go on record and get this out there now--it has the potential to be a world-beating album.

Severe and melodic, Time the Teacher is a shapely journey to the byzantine innards of DeCicca’s mind.

There are flaws in the album, as some songs could be shortened a little and not every song connects, but once you start trying to add that individual polish, you would risk losing the essential character of the whole. As a solo debut, it is an album of assured intelligence.

The Distant Sky EP is what happens when a lone wolf suddenly needs to reach out and touch. It’s the chaotic scream around loosing a child. It’s a careful help me into the darkness. It’s an invitation to come closer, to hold hands--at last, be close to our St Nick. And it’s fucking glorious. It could have done with a better mix, though.

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.

Put simply, CollectiV is a masterclass in supremely executed rock and roll.

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.

Wakin' on a Pretty Daze is one of those rare examples of an artist’s uninhibited self-indulgence resulting in an LP which plays firmly to their strengths.

Nearer My God is daring, flamboyant and consistently thrilling. It won’t make Foxing the biggest band in the world, but it probably should.

Whilst Hot Thoughts may divide fans, it stands as proof that class is permanent. Spoon are still one of the most forward-thinking rock bands around, and we’re still very lucky to have them 25 years later.

It's fair to say Smoke Ring...'s reliance on gloom and loneliness rarely lets up. But he's trying to find beauty in it, which I guess is the point.

While Wild Light correctly prioritises focus over twists, there are sections that catch you by surprise.

Whilst so many hazy albums of this kind struggle to engage on a level beyond superficiality, Sea When Absent--if you’re willing to genuinely invest in it--throws up a plethora of fresh subtleties with every listen.

Matador is a precise work of outstanding talent. While it may recycle the emotive wild card a little too often for some, any keen ear will be able to tell you this isn't some half baked solo project.

Historian feels like a universe that exists before time, somewhere to reach up to when you need to express something greater than yourself. And Dacus shows us the way, with grace and patience and the quiet confidence of writers twice her age.

In the midst of the beautiful descending piano chords of the Twin Peaks referencing ‘Leo Needs a New Pair of Shoes’ a blade of static erupts without warning, coming to life with an extremely high-frequency version of a distress flare’s hiss. Once this has faded the track’s coda becomes the most beautiful section of the album, clean descending string-playing blending with a more frenetic bowing and echoing wolf cries.

Rather Ripped is what you'd expect from a Sonic Youth that's getting back to the cool rock 'n' roll sound they trademarked years ago, completed by a tagline of frenzied feedback and chiming guitars.

While Erickson provided the 'text', Sheff had to present it with the right level of reverence, being careful to highlight, and not undermine, this record of struggle and redemption.

It's Blitz reveals just how much the trio have grown and how well they know exactly the strange angular planet that their music inhabits.

In There is Love in You we see one of the last decade’s most early pioneers reminding us all that he’s still just as important as ever.

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.

PUP’s second record is one of moments and contrast--huge musical and lyrical leaps forward, some magical trickery and sleight of hand, a few stumbling mis-steps and finally a huge bright, beaming light offering this budding band a path to follow down which they can flower, grow and hey, maybe one day, not be quite so fucking hard on themselves.

This is the most immediate album Cocker has put his name to in ten years.

Yes, there’s technically more instrumental breadth in most episodes of Sesame Street, but this is a deeply, troublingly emotional record.

This is clearly the album that removes any lingering doubt that Chelsea Wolfe is a very special artist; one who is capable of the visceral and the surprisingly soothing in the same stroke.

Primary Colours is a reminder that young British bands can actually progress to brilliant new heights, and perhaps, just perhaps, the occasional surprise in these media saturated times isn’t as endangered a beast as previously thought.

There is an energy to Cry, Cry, Cry that simply got lost in the storm Apologies created. After some time away to re-group, it seems, Wolf Parade have re-found that spark.

False Readings On is a calmer, more pensive, and more inward-looking affair than Cooper’s recent Inventions releases.

In principal this is another finely crafted record in the vein of much that has been released by Neurosis since 2000. The problem is that what sounded so exciting during that vital three album run identified earlier was never going to have the same impact today.

Fading Frontier is another superlative achievement from a band who are, unfailingly, one of life’s great mysteries.

Whilst it would be easy to say that the 136 tracks across five CDs make this boxset a purchase for completists and enthusiasts only, to do so would be reductive.

Niches, of course, tend to hide most of metal's jewels, and Iron Balls Of Steel is the genre's first great album of 2012.

There are no duds here, though Bowie definitely misses the hipster mark on occasion.

A bit of musical beauty, some interesting lyricism and a pinch of hippy bollocks--still distinctly Patti Smith.

Because of its unusual structure, Holy Ghost rarely manages to play to all of its strengths at once. It’s a bold choice, both interesting and admirable in its way, but it’s hard to get past the fact that it undoubtedly lifts towards its conclusion--building towards an energy it never properly inhabits.

Overall then, a triumph for instrumental music that’s more than genre-hopping: it’s genre-reviving.

It's a wonderful record, a colossal achievement, and features some of the most breathtaking, moving and downright beautiful music you'll hear all year.

Condition should come with a label on the front advising "Approach With Caution". However, its creators' intransigent desire to confound and confront should be applauded. Spectres: simply one of a kind.

Though Hiss Spun probably won't end up as the best of her career, it may well be Wolfe's best so far.

If the sign of a good LP is no standout tracks then John Wizards is certifiably brilliant, a collage of brightly-coloured chamber pop where modern synths get a look-in too.

To call it album of the year at this stage wouldn't so much be pre-emption as an actual understatement.

Total Strife Forever is that scarcest of things; a masterly record which walks a unpredictable line musically yet remains entirely consistent in quality.

A little more clarity wouldn't have gone amiss here and there, but there's enough on offer to bring curious listeners back for repeated spins, which is just as well, as More Faithful is definitely a grower.

Yet despite being a busier effort than …To The Beat of a Dead Horse, it's probably on the whole more accessible due to a sharper production job and a new found clarity in the vocals.

This is a confident, electrifying, weirdo-pop stormer of an album that deserves your attention.

What compels here, is Castle’s ability to have created a piece of art so intimately descriptive of her personal fear of death, and how it links to the songwriter process and her thirst for immortality.

An album which starts feeling a bit dense and chewy halfway through.

Stepping away from the noise and taking an evermore artful approach to heartfelt pop is a bold, brilliantly smart move and on Bark Your Head Off, Dog the results are borderline magical.

It's true that guitar-pop is all this is, but it's still bloody good stuff.

Who knows what Knife-man Olof Dreijer will bring back from his (literal) exploration of the Amazon, intended for an electronic opera about "The Origin of Species" (due September 2009); for now, this may be his sister’s most artistically satisfying album.

AM lacks that character empathy: rather than being detached--ie, cool, wry, transverted--Turner is removed (impulsive, anxious, dull) and it is this subtle distinction that shoots AM down in its shiny leather metal-toed boots.

Contra is a solidly entertaining, well-constructed album, and if people take to it, the tendency to mock the band will, I think, fade, simply because it doesn't have obviously unfashionable moments to feel uneasy about.

Justice know when to curtail the industrial strike and dazzle you with some star-skipping pop-chime, or a warble of gloopy future funk, before tossing you back into the unlit mire.

The record could be accused of wearing its influences a bit obviously, but as Wilco, Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev borrowed from Neil Young, progression essentially comes through a degree of regression and, although Avi retreads familiar ground, he still adds his very own unique footprint to his band's debut.

It's undeniable that for her self-titled third album, Marnie Stern has made some canny decisions. This time round, several of the tracks are built around huge, stomping riffs, with the speedier guitar lines mixed further back to create more space, without sacrificing that-which-is-Marnie.

Manipulator affording him space to rise above his obvious points of reference and create the one thing no one envisioned for album number seven: Ty Segall as both uncompromised AND accessible artist. The complete package.

The balance of the old and the truly new in instrumentation and song writing style is the bedrock of the composer’s own work and many of the artists on the albums track listing.

If viewed as a unique, and relatively unmediated collection of experimental tracks rather than an album, Collaborative Works is an enchanting listen. What it lacks in structural polish, it makes up for in quality.

Overall, this is an excellent return from an always consistent band who's legacy has grown and grown over the years since their depature in 2011.

Visions of a Life is a phenomenal achievement. It has captured on record the thrill, angst, sadness and uncertainty of being in your twenties and not really knowing what’s going to happen or should happen. All of it is never anything less than intoxicating, heartfelt and effortless.

Their adventurous spirit is in such clear abundance on Open Here, that you could almost forget that this is a band with a stronger grasp of the basics than most.

While it sometimes isn’t the smoothest of rides, there’s more than enough here to help maintain a sense of devotion to Wasser’s work.

It’s an album certain of what it wants to be, but lacking in the naturalness needed to truly convince, let alone amaze.

It shows that jazz isn’t confined to the past, or dusty records, and is loud, vibrant, angry at society and has something to say. It shows that Onyx Collective can rub shoulders with any band and give as good as they get. It also shows that Onyx Collective can write music flawless music, as well as just jam the bangers out, and have fun doing it.

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.