John K. Samson’s vocal and lyrical talent is the most immediate thing and, ultimately, what sets the band above the two-a-penny similar rock acts the world over.

Initial listens leave the impression that Volta is a top-heavy release, but as with Vespertine repeat visitations see the record smoothing and flattening out, with consistency becoming apparent over a shorter period of time than with many a Bjork LP before it.

Salem deal in fragments and ambiguities; their music is unmistakably dark, in all the senses above and more, and saps power from the tension they set up between reality and dream. But there's light and beauty there too.

As pastiche, this all makes for a fragmented and cumbersome back-to-back listening experience - utterly dominated by wild mood swings. But with so many independently functioning songs on offer, certain suites of two or three become hands down irresistible.

It is a blazingly enjoyable record, the most purely fun album the band has made since Fever to Tell.

Threadbare’s generous, circular nature is to be applauded; it’s rare that studies of loss are as authentically moving and sensitively played as this--and even rarer they’re so completely endearing.

Granted, there’s a dropped line or two (see the Katy Perry reference in the frankly appallingly saccharine ‘I’m Good’ and the misjudged Jamaican patois of ‘There Was A Murder’) but this remains an album with few weak points, and plenty of strong ones.

High Places vs. Mankind is their most complete work to date, which ends much as it began, with the band’s love of outright pop.

The darkness was always there, in Hadreas, in the songs, but now it’s in the music, Too Bright, to sound ridiculously over the top, has darkness in its soul.

Alec Ounsworth has responded to the challenge by writing a bright, pithy record stuffed with delicious tunes, not only in the vocals but both guitars and (particularly) the keyboards, and generally all at the same time.

Brilliantly elegant.

At times the sheer weirdness and creepiness of the record can be a bit much, but that’s also what makes CocoRosie so great.

It’s her attempt to understand femininity, and that occurs here in poetic and often quite abstract fashion. Evidently, for Marling, femininity is less fickle and changeable than mesmerisingly mysterious.

All told, the lovely but tedious collage work of 1948 isn’t crucial to hear.

Potentially most interesting of all is the way parts of Red Barked Tree sound dated in a manner completely unrelated to how some of Wire's records haven't, y'know, aged that well.

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.

Lust for Life represents the thawing of the ice queen we thought we knew, and the strange death of her American dream. The warmth and humility revealed beneath are all the more thrilling for how well they were kept under lock and key. Human after all.

Magnetic North seem to take you to another place entirely with what seems like very simple ingredients--subtle, dare-I-say tasteful instrumentation, and languid, slowly infectious melodies.

The Only Thing I Ever Wanted is a true album, a coherent trail of interlinked melody and domestic adventures.

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.

Wanna hear the real masters of puppets? Pop this record on and recoil as you realise the aforementioned are but limp and loose-limbed marionettes compared to Mastodon’s array of all-conquering modern metal cacophonies.

Who knows what's real and what's not, but The Magnetic Fields write Great Pop songs, and this means a lot.

The plot is complicated and would take innumerable listens to get the complete story without the aid of RZA’s interludes, but the storytelling is vivid and full of colour.

Flies The Fields is a masterpiece of foreboding that’ll both fascinate and terrify in equal measure.

Any fears of a dangerous liaison are soon sent packing as opener ‘Deus Ibi Est’ thud-thuds its way to attention.

Whether this will go down as one of Motorpsycho's best albums (and there are a lot of contenders for that crown) only time will tell. Clearly though, they are a band as vital as they've ever been.

Imperfections define personality and The Waiting Room wears its flaws well. Don’t let them put you off. This is a rich, warm, comfort blanket of a record, marbled with veins of darkness and light.

POST- is an incredibly fun record, and its sequencing feels like the live experience. The way Rosenstock launches into each song is a delight.