It’s from hearing the brand new tracks that Jungle’s burgeoning songwriting mastery is really showcased.

Vek has channelled these emotions into an album that sporadically bristles and intoxicates with thrilling rhythms and fierce yet monotonously-delivered lyrics.

Ironically, listening to most of EX feels like watching a film with the sound turned off.

Night Work is a pastiche of Scissors Sisters' former glories that sees the band desperately sewing together the leftover scraps of their idols in a vain attempt to recapture the pertinence of their debut.

‘You Are The Quarry’ sees Morrissey back in the ring, lean, limber and fighting fit.

This is Eminem’s best record in a decade--and one of the most impressive, entertaining and addictive hip-hop albums of the year.

It is an album which requires patience, which, once granted provides ever increasing rewards.

As ever with Themselves, there aren’t really highlights or many changes of pace – it’s full-on, all the time; you don’t get skits between songs, just a second, third or fourth gabbling vocal line within these ten, unconventionally concise songs.

If you’ve even the slightest interest in ‘heavy’ music, you simply must make Saturday Night Wrist an integral part of your record collection.

A covers record will probably never pique interest in the way that a fresh batch of new material will. But for those who do take the risk, fans and the curious alike, Imitations is a touching, tasteful and rewarding listen that will not disappoint.

The result is a warm, fuzzy embrace of an album; a release that will delight fans of James’s work as a solo artist and bandleader of My Morning Jacket, and likely anyone else who happens upon it.

Nobody expected Smith to reinvent the wheel on his second album, but anything is better than limping along on a flat tyre.

Despite the sometime over-the-top dynamics of its voice--the USP that’ll actually be the main appeal to certain admirers, anyway--this album is an engaging listen, one that builds on the promise of its maker’s debut and suggests that, with a little taming, My Brightest Diamond could enjoy the sort of recognition the likes of Bat For Lashes can attract--neither will ever be Björk-sized of profile, but each is creating engrossing, romantic music that transcends genres.

The erratic nature of this album makes it a near perfect soundtrack for these troubled times, where no one is quite sure what awaits around the next corner.

This is not the sound of the London underground (although the album ends with that particular sound); it sounds nothing like London. Not the London I know. London Undersound was made by a Wandsworth-ite so rapt by his own fears and insecurities, that he has completely lost sight of the bigger picture.

God is Good is a more confused creation, more like two EPs than a concerted record.

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

A set of incredibly well put together takes on all of your favourite nursery rhymes.

So while Always Ascending is certainly a return to form in places, it certainly isn't perfect, particularly in its middle run. ... Overall, it's a pleasant feeling to have a good Franz Ferdinand record again, like a warm hug reminding one of a simpler time only slightly bastardised by ten years of regressive politics and is seemingly inspiring many of these bands to redress the balance.

Transverse is an exhilarating collection that becomes a new listening experience on every subsequent hearing.

Era is the sort of record you can just sink into.

Generally, though, its makers can count Common Existence a triumph.

What Wavves has created here is a collection of gleaming pop gems, laced with self-hatred and a keen sense of rebellion.

As a collection of songs and sentiments there is a nagging sense that Dulli is revisiting old haunts. Yet it feels reassuring, as Dynamite Steps continues the resurgent course he's been treading in recent years.

To cap things off, there's an untitled track that feels distinct from the rest of the album, it's recorded in a pre-war style and sees a guitar gently plucked next to Taylor's voice. It's a charming end to a stunning, yet intense emotional ride that Piano takes you on.

The record captures and remains stuck in a moment, circulating a narrative where memory serves and is replaced over and over again, like an acid flashback with a locked groove.

A welcome return, and one that hopefully signals a healthier and less troublesome existence in the future.

Love’s Miracle is an oddly enjoyable affair on the whole, although in a time when US bands are working through a Fantasy Football League-like transfer system (I’ll swap your an ex-Jesus Lizard singer for a Helmet drummer), it may take an album or two for them to completely work out their sound.