They may have failed in capturing the spirit of the Dadaists, but then it’s unlikely anyone would really have enjoyed that much anyway. What we get instead is two bands playing, not in opposition, but in perfect, complementing disharmony.

Angel Guts: Red Classroom is the typical blend of passion, pain and awkwardness which makes Xiu Xiu what they are. Fearless, demanding, relentlessly subversive.

With Sun Gangs it’s as if they've finished the whole cake and the house burst, bricks and mortar exploding through the sky like fireworks.

Royal Albert Hall is bursting at the seams with superb reinterpretations of some real classics.

He's reached another career peak to match that of 1999's 'Knock Knock'.

Our Love lacks the element of surprise that Swim had, but still holds in abundance all the hallmarks of a master: so rich, so textured and despite being predominantly electronic, so human--speaking with painful honesty to a condition that ranks just below death and taxes in uniting us all.

While there are some tracks that feel like the duo have worn themselves out, points at which the album can support neither its stubbornly fusion-pop soul nor its lyrical depth, for the most part it shines.

For those who have heretofore found Harcourt to be a little too melodramatic, this is likely the album that will have them reconsider his work. We all need a little romance, and so much the better when it's delivered with a bit of knowing quirk.

It’s a frighteningly powerful album that will be adored by open-minded newcomers and "Miss Machine" converts alike.

The production throughout Vampire Weekend is perfect, holding all the various threads together as a coherent whole that manages to sound simple without ever being underwhelming.

Spoon are equally as enjoyable, and perhaps that bit more intriguing, when they are a little bit harder to fathom. Plus, to put it simply, there ain't a duff track to be found here.

Sisterworld derives unity from its punchdrunk stagger, arresting the worry Liars had lost their command of atmosphere after "Drum’s Not Dead." They’ve soaked themselves in a new city and emerged renewed, once again.

Monto occasionally overwhelms as its leading light pivots. Patience is rather vital as the album expands and Murphy continues to contemplate. There’s no padding here, but like any good trip into an intriguing mind you may emerge from the swell a touch dizzy.

This is jazz, this is funk, this is soul, this is gospel... but most importantly, R.A.P. Music is rap music, as fresh as it comes.

Unreal's feel is of the hangover following the hedonistic romp that was Yuck--reassembling a broken self into a positive whole, and taking an auspicious step in a new direction.

Full of tasty licks and rocking out it may be, but The More I Sleep the Less I Dream is also genuinely reflective and melancholic as the band continue to mature. Let’s just hope they still get those jetpacks they were promised, even if equally feral and refined albums like this mean they might not need them to soar anymore.

Order of Noise shows how to balance the two extremes without committing to one single constant, and that anyone can make an original noise, but to make one that's accessible takes skill.

Underneath the jarring keyboards and jerky percussion is a delicacy gives the LP international appeal, one that means it won’t be confined to cars and packed warehouses.

All that really matters for the moment is that their debut album is an unqualified success, a concise and perfectly-presented collection of first-class pop music.

O’Connor has a clarity of purpose and a truly unique sound that is perfectly suited to his vision of suburban nihilism.

This is an album that is full of glorious melodies, harsh noise and field recordings. Agora is the strongest, and most cohesive, album that Fennesz has released in over a decade, and that is no mean feat.

Dye It Blonde has unexpectedly crept into contention for being my favourite record of 2011 so far.

A useful entry point for newcomers, then, but there is just enough to make this a worthwhile purchase for long-time fans too.

The Cool Kids’ revivalist format might not remain flavour of the month long enough for their debut LP proper, "When Fish Ride Bicycles," to have much of a commercial impact when it’s released later this year, but this taster ten-tracker of older material certainly leaves a pleasant aftertaste.

Far more than a simple exercise in rock as violent fury, or as political vehicle for that matter, Gnod’s latest effort is yet another important musical statement from a group firmly at the forefront of everything good about British underground music. That it arrives in time to soundtrack such troubled times as these is, of course, a welcome bonus.

Earl Grey works so well because the three women at its heart have uniqueness as players and chemistry as a band, and it’s rare to get both. There’s a respect for melody here, in both Hankin’s way with chorus and riff, and especially in Moss’s ear-candy bass lines.

Leave your prejudices behind, shut your eyes and just enjoy.

Tasteful and tactful enough to use their wide range of influences, this is an impressive body of work that upholds the finest garage tradition: missed completely by the majority, but obsessed over and taken straight to heart by those who can’t resist their records a little on the rougher side.