With or without the four unreleased songs, this was always going to be an essential collection for any Belle & Sebastian obsessive, and the credits are a reminder there’s plenty more to come.

Again penned almost entirely by Campbell before tweaked to fit Lanegan’s whisky-guzzled grumbling, there’s a distinct element of ‘seen it, done it, milking it’ to every rootsy, airsome shanty and, although executed with exemplary grace, it seems there’s not quite enough fuel left to stoke the fires of desire once more.

this album is never less than interesting. It’s just that with but a touch of discipline, they could create something truly magical.

All through this Olausson gives every impression of earnestness; it’s this ability to fashion a hook out of something nobody in their right mind would even think of that ensures a level of sparkle even when the sonic territory is well trodden.

So yadda yadda yadda, a best of isn't as worthwhile as a group's actual albums, what a shocker.

Nevertheless, the casual listener will have little to soak up from here, only surface bruising. The masochists amongst us already know we’re gonna get our kicks from this.

As such, Limbo, Panto is shocking, funny, and above all irrevocable. Expect this lot to be around for the long haul.

This is strong stuff that thankfully avoids falling into crass sloganeering, and the music backs it up, it's arcing guitar lines and tribal percussion generating a growing atmosphere of anxiety, outrage and disorientation.

Berlin: Live At St Anne's Warehouse is basically one of the most creepily eloquent records of Lou Reed's career, tarted up in the sort of bombastic style that ironically may see it received better in the classic rockin' days of 1973.

An ambitiously themed, leftfield, modern classical album that not only impresses, but totally enthrals.

By now, Frida’s come so far from where she started, you will have been won over, and it’s possible to see the early schmaltz as a necessary counterpoint: a musical analogue of the innocence to be lost, and/or transformed into experience.

Smaldone’s rattling, tumbling, ragtime ballads are engaging rather than just pretty; plus, the narratives are consistently well-realized, albeit that the interpretations are largely closed.

K-the-I??? makes bold steps alongside the likes of Saul Williams, emanating poetic flamboyance without becoming too confusing, but with enough (e)motion and kinetic verve to satisfy even the most passive ear.

From the outset, No Mundane Options drifts by without asserting itself.

Intimacy is not quite the radical statement its makers might think it is (I’m not sure what could be given the group’s evident ambitions), but it’s definitely a little bit of invigorating redemption at a time when doubts were beginning to cloud what was, initially, a flawless reputation.

Where the split-personality of Cryptograms hinted as much, a cohesive effort on Microcastle delivers the goods in its entirety.

The carnival-esque, unsettling vibe permeating forms both its strong appeal and sometime downfall, as sustaining momentum at the pace O’Death strive to can prove alienating. Peppered with stark imagery and carried off with consummate musical skill however, for the most part it’s utterly absorbing.

There's still too much here which feels (and sounds) like filler, but when Jenkinson pulls it off it's as incomparably awesome as ever.

When SSVIIB play to their strengths--most of the time--the songs are so smooth that you lower your expectations for any strong hooks, as you would when listening to ambient, only to discover that you’re caught up in a glorious anthem,making this a kind of secret dance-music you didn’t know you were swaying to.

Quite simply, Alight Of Night is one of the most breathtaking records these ears have been partial to in a long while, and even if Crystal Stilts never make another record, their legacy is assured.

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.

An album as close to a dictionary-standard definition of the word mediocre as there is likely to be in the whole of 2008.

Some people are going to think this is a masterpiece, the equal of "Hissing Fauna." Others will call it a self indulgent mess that pushes indie-rock somewhere it really wasn't meant to go. Personally, I think both those sound about right.

Even if plenty of the songs on this record could be easily mixed up with something from their past two records ('Window Sills' and 'New Schools' are straight off Everybody), their idiosyncracies never diminish any of this album’s terrific songs.

Gang Gang Dance, however, have found their voice in a world of retro revivalists and fly-by-night trendhoppers. It's whatever they want it to be, and it's awesome.

Turn this one need up loud to fully appreciate it--it's hardly bedtime listening--but you might want to have a little sit down and gather your thoughts after listening to it through for the first time and then listen to it again.

That’s not to say this isn’t promising as a progression from the last album, with signs of grand ambition and more directions to explore.

The raw elements are present, but Rossi is only 22, and has much time. Nevertheless this EP is a consistent 20 minutes of raw beauty, and holds as much worth in itself as it does in the anticipation of what could follow.