An uncompromising set of solid songs set on the internal and external eve of destruction.

Mekons are the equal of any post-punk band on both sides of the Atlantic, and they are still very serious about proving it.

With his piano, classical flourishes and superbly layered production a la E.L.O., it’s out of sync but, when it works, wonderfully so. Whether Lytle’s vocals work for you or not will probably be the main deciding factor as to whether the band itself works for you. Oftentimes he smooths out the edges, but his singing can come across as whiny.

With Asleep On the Floodplain, Chasny returns not just to his personal roots, but also to the roots of popular music itself.

Purling Hiss’s rough but accessible rock, made with craftsmanship and taste, does a difficult thing. It pleases old indie-heads just as easily as it can draw in the new kids.

Rave Tapes is the sound of a band equally unafraid to strike out in a markedly different direction, one confident in its voice and skills in a way that, along with the quality and control of the songs here, speaks well for Mogwai’s future.

As far as 2008 sleepers go, this album’s near the top of the pile. Don’t Be A Stranger is good advice, indeed.

1,000 Years, Tucker's solo debut, shows a remarkable amount of growth both as a songwriter and a performer from the loud guitar maelstrom that punctuated Sleater-Kinney some years back.

It's just a bit too nice.

Venetian Snares x Daniel Lanois pits Lanois’ laconic style against Funk’s frenzy until the contradictions between them are heightened and collapse, resulting in a deeply weird and captivating album.

If whining and wishing that your cat could talk is your bag, well, here's Best Coast. Now let's get burritos.

After a few more times through Hit After hit, you begin to sense there's something more to these songs. It may be a knock-off, but it's an incredibly nuanced one.

Shrines lacks any friction; Purity Ring has created a very viable sound that doesn't offend or stick.

Moondust For My Diamond does end up feeling like it’s a few songs too long, especially compared to Diviner’s succinct, 10 song track list. Nevertheless, it’s a predominantly radiant synth-pop record that offers receptive souls some much-needed uplift.

There’s charm here, but it’s mostly second-hand, photos from a party you didn’t go to.

One of the best things about Balf Quarry is the way it builds on the game-changing craftsmanship that Magik Markers brought to Boss.

This is an album that seriously repays repeat listening, sounding slight at first, but gaining heft with every play. It’s beautiful stuff, and you won’t miss the vocals at all.

It’s a richly rewarding album that offers a valuable snapshot of an evolving artist.

Flat Worms doesn’t go anywhere strange or new. You can lose your way in the record’s middle section, where songs become easily exchangeable, one for another. That said, the first three and last two tracks on the record are noisy fun.

It’s a shame that all of Water Weird isn’t as emotive as its second side. Most of the tracks are head nodders if you’re in the mood for that kind of thing. For anyone seeking something that digs a little deeper, let the second side soothe your inner space.

When RVG get it right, the results are deeply affecting. ... The weaker moments — “Little Sharky & The White Pointer,” “Prima Donna” and “The Baby & The Bottle” — could easily have been excised for a sharper listen. It’s not that anything here is cringe-inducing, it’s just that because the band’s sound is so straightforward, the songs need a little spark to make them stand out.

O’Rourke sails these turbulent seas deftly, making small gestures laden with significance. It’s agonising and hypnotic, the kind of art that demands commitment to spend time with. Yet, while you’re immersed in it, it feels inescapable.

The nostalgia of postmodernity, that backward glance, is apparent in every moment of Parallax Error Beheads You. While it can sometimes seem like a quagmire for the less creative, it’s transformative here.

The songs can't go anywhere due to the length of the loops and the conceit of assembling them, so Huifang hisses over the "music" in this hiccuping, Fonzi-fied affectation that is one of the most blatant and unoriginal guises to come down yet in our lazy, near-sighted approximation of what we construe as challenging or worthwhile music in 2011.

Pop's newest princess? Let's just call it a modest success and save our enthusiasm for when she's better figured out what she wants to be. On a Mission isn't convincing as an answer.

The album may not set the world on fire like "Ladies and Gentlemen," but it stands as the best Spiritualized album since that milestone, and a worthy successor.

This is arguably his finest work, at least since The Gasoline Age, his '99 ode to petrol-guzzling beaters and strip-mall deadbeats.

He’s been moving this way the whole time, though you may not have connected the dots before, and now with Deafman Glance, he’s arrived.