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.

Destination Tokyo is something of a departure from the group’s previous sound, insofar as it is pared back and produced with more of an eye for clarity.

Whether or not the band are more than just a gumbo of their influences is debatable, but in all honesty, OCD Go Go Go Girls is so damnably fun to listen to that you really couldn’t care.

Folk Songs probably won’t soundtrack a woman exhorting you through your flatscreen to buy yoghurt in the foreseeable, but it will be received with a deserved warmth by an established cluster of fans.

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

A generally rambunctious mid-fi indie electropop sitting at an odd remove from the band’s devotional cause.

Just as Interpol always seemed like a good imitation of a great rock band (no-one in particular, just A Great Rock Band, with all its slogans and hooks, and gestures and shapes), Julian Plenti does a fairly good imitation of a solo-artist showing his sensitive side.

A modest release, Tribute To will obviously be of most interest to My Morning Jacket and George Harrison admirers, but the quality of the covers deserves a wider audience.

This is one made like they used to make 'em--and it's utterly gorgeous to boot.

It’s a little too smooth in places, and also a little lacking in assurance, but just like my friend, it’s worth making the effort to get into this party.

Troubled, Shaken Etc. won't win any prizes for instant accessibility; if anything, it's a deftly-secured trove of deeply hidden treasures, that once discovered, will be hard to resist.

Gorgeous, exquisite... and no, definitely not a side-project.

The album showcases their massive creativity and playfulness and is a fitting testament to the power of pop music to move your heart and head as well as your feet.

There is no such contrast on this album, nor much of a sense for a distinctive or special musical moment.

He's crafted a whole album so stagnantly repetitive that one listen gives the illusion of having already been subjected to the same song again and again and again and again.

Don't you want to think? Don't you enjoy thinking? Or do you instead prefer listening to background whining? Are you happy to settle for this?

All in all though, Radio Wars is disappointingly average; pleasant but fairly forgettable, and in contrast to its misleading title, should really have been named Radio Friendly instead.

This is music aimed squarely for the naïve-at-heart, and the industrial knife-sharpeners are best waved elsewhere than at the entirely likeable Young. If these genteel Casio-noodlings are what the kids are going to be listening to in 2010, I predict a peaceful year for the rest of us.

A French Kiss In The Chaos is neither artistically interesting nor indeed very good.

The band have hardly been better than on that EP’s opening three song suite and that’s what is so frustrating about I’m Going Away; it’s not a bad album, but the band are capable of so much more; the title of the album is at least apt in that the Friedberger’s don’t sound like they are here for this record, it sounds like they already left and phoned this one in.

There’s a nocturnal ambience in places, a mythic sensibility throughout, but plenty of light in the dark.

If they cut out about half of the songs and focused more on the parts that sounded less like Sigur Ros, Riceboy Sleeps would be a much stronger record.

Although it falls a few steps shy of wowing unreservedly, The Knot remains a poised and compelling second album.

It is a record which drinks deeply from the well of the past but could only have been made today. Megafaun have cast off the weight of the canon and are spreading their wings.

He may be pushing boundaries and himself less urgently than before, but in doing so he’s made his most palatable and varied record to date.

They are not in tune with trends, or even an aesthetic, so much as something earthier...the seasons perhaps, because there’s no denying that Gorgeous Johnny has a latitude and a longitude... it’s the sound of a fading summer.

Its creators will surely insist that they’re proud of their work and that’s all the approval they need. All the same, it’d probably be nice for them if you could imagine anyone who didn’t already like The White Stripes and/or The Kills buying this.