In Heaven sees them take the scenic route to vindicating their claim to be pop with a capital P, maintaining enough of their atmospheric qualities without being in thrall to any genre's limitations.

The Devil's Walk can be as persuasive and intoxicating as you want it to be. The acute complexity of temptation inevitably boils down to a simple yes or no. You'll take to this record or you won't.

Just like Sky Blue Sky and Wilco (The Album), there's songs that are more ambitious and some that are more successful, but all of them fit as a cohesive whole, just as on every Wilco album so far.

Overall, this is a highly schizophrenic collection.

The Hunter is a pitch for the mainstream--but it doesn't compromise on Mastodon's core ambition.

This is Butcher Boy's finest hour to date, but by the signs of it the best is yet to come.

The album as a whole is amongst the best showcases of her piano work because she allows herself to meander about the keyboard and never lets production to drown it out.

Just as Only In Dreams confirms this bunch of self-anointed femme fatales as an impressive songwriting outfit, it's stands as a warning that their outwardly-facing facade is wearing thin.

The Wanting boasts both technical excellence and a cosy, welcoming atmosphere. A simple combination, perhaps, but a hugely rewarding one.

In a way, this fourth album by Olympia nature boys Wolves In The Throne Room might be their first release that actually sounds like what their detractors keep insisting they sound like. Not that it's diluted or weedy, far from it in fact.

Pretty much everything about Jens except the scale of his melodies is gentle and unassuming, and there is a quiet honesty here that is unique pleasure.

Mesmerising throughout, it's a beguiling and brilliant listen.

While it certainly shows Blink to have the potential for much more than their past reputation may convey, Neighborhoods is reminiscent of that first awkward conversation after a heated argument, as no-one's quite sure where to go next.

As an album, The High Country is a little disappointing, as fans of Richmond Fontaine might wish for something a little more traditional in the structure, or at least for the story idea to have been realised better.

Altogether, Father, Son, Holy Ghost is a complex record, one that doesn't quite fully realise Girls potential as great recording artists, yet equally suggests that bona fide masterpiece may not be too far around the corner.

You can't take it too seriously--if you did you'd find an album riddled with clichés and vulgarities. Just take it as it was intended: 30 minutes of fun from one of the world's most entertaining rock stars.

For the most part, it feels like either overweening confidence or desire to snare rudderless Oasis fans has led to Kasabian attempting the sort of conventional guitar pop record that they've always so successfully avoided making.

Akerfeldt should be praised for breaking free of an often repetitive genre--there's nothing wrong with radical reinvention. But this departure didn't need to be quite so lacklustre.

Her second full length is a compelling pleasure that rewards additional listens.

Much like Actor, it's the contrast of tendernesses in both the red-raw and Elvis senses of the word, that marks St. Vincent's music out as something more sophisticated and enthralling than it might first appear.

These songs rest quite naturally between the forlorn, heartbroken ballads, making this an album of exceptional and understated maturity and beauty. Sadness has rarely felt this good.

The downer is that nothing here can touch the early pop gems that can still see even the more stringently alternative spill their JD and cokes, and without that it's all too easy to start thinking this record is a lot worse than it actually is.

For diehard fans Gravity The Seducer is replete with pleasing moments. For fans of novel musical statements, not so much. Listen, feel your mind wander, forget.

Having heard Taylor's fingerprints over a dozen fine records, it's great to finally hear one that he can call his own.

For completists Obscurities is a must. For Magnetic Fields fans it's a worthwhile starting point for Stephin Merritt's other projects. For newcomers, start with 69 Love Songs and come back when you've fallen in love with everything else.

This is a very well-made album; heads will nod and feet will tap. But it doesn't capture that molten energy that the Icarus Line have been capable of in the past, and as such falls short of greatness

Somewhere in Never Trust A Happy Song are the fragments of a great band, but sadly they aren't enough to make a great album.

All of Cass McCombs' deliberate ambiguities add up to a beguiling character worth shouting about, even if he's not willing to do it himself. Give this album a spin and join its gently strident fan base.