As frenetic as it is instant, melodic and catchy.

An energetic ride with plenty of musical thrills and spills which will sound a treat live, on the road or in the club, but one which doesn't fully convince when the vocals are added to the mix.

A welcoming listen, it begs for repeated plays, each time opening itself up further.

At its best, June 2009 feels like a fuzzy, readymade memory. Yet, problematically, there's the paradox that whilst proceedings are worthy, they're too anaemic for wider public consumption - over half of the songs are under three minutes, most well under.

The simple fact about Death Grips is they will divide audiences. Some will take to their hardcore pandering. Others will scuttle back to their FM radio stations.

In her quest to make her own brand of gimmick free progressive pop, Santigold has made an album that, for all its faults, intermittently works. And when it does hit the mark it does so exceedingly well.

It's fun while it lasts, but it's easily forgotten once over.

An album that could have built on the promise of the last, and instead dilutes it in an almost certainly vain pitch for chart success.

If its purpose is to celebrate the traditional Irish music that The Chieftains have played for half a century, note their influence and even open them up to new audiences, it does exactly that.

It's certainly not a bad album, but for those of us who have followed Truille's career from the start, and have been waiting for this album for so long, it's a disappointing one.

Lovelorn, honest, poignant and emotional in the best way imaginable.

Ray sounds rather like a lot of other people, but nothing really makes her stand out.

Wainwright and Ronson come together with a well-mannered tightness and proficiency that, at best, astounds.

The production of this album in so short a time is nothing short of miraculous, and listening to it is an experience to savour.

A collaboration enrichingly beneficial to both sides - and to the listener.

Tales From Barrel House is by no means without flaw, it's too untameable for that--but when it shines at its brightest, it is every bit as alive as the people and lands it attempts to portray.

When it finds itself so hopelessly in thrall to lost love, the record can cross a line into mawkish self-pity, the classic pitfall of many a confessional breakup album, and its appeal can then wear thin.

Ward is one of this genre's best: playful, diverse, and endearing, he has the crucial thing needed to make it work: charm.

This is the best and most complete set of songs Spiritualized have made since Ladies And Gentlemen.

Fans of airy independent music are sure to welcome this disc with open arms, but a few minor quibbles mean that the rest of us might want to hold back for more until the red carpet is rolled out.

At 15 tracks, it's possibly a bit too long - but this is a man who's lived one hell of a life and has a lot of tales to tell. Indeed, it's a fair shout that this could well be the most entertaining autobiography you'll listen to all year.

It's not a bad first album; it's just not a great one, either.

Maps & Atlases have produced an album with some real bite. It's a collection of tracks that needs proper digestion in order to pick through the intricate layering and amalgam of styles that mix the band's longstanding math influences with a clear inclination towards African rhythms.

Roberts and Morrison have crafted an elegant and vivid love letter to the music and culture of Lewis, and certainly brings to life the storytellings and traditions of this remote outpost.

For such an experimental band maybe they could have pushed these remixes further instead of into a no-man's land of accessible. For Battles, this is unchallenging territory.

At 22 tracks, its formulaic and mechanistic approach begins to wear thin at times--there's just too much going on to properly digest it all--but as a compendium of chart-ready fodder, Nicki has honed in on precisely what works for her with remarkable ease.

Their most lukewarm effort. What was, in their early days, delicious in its languor is now turgid and inert, struggling for hooks with only the most tepid sense of melody.

Overall, New Build's debut is one of subtlety and finesse.

The Cornshed Sisters display moments of Joni Mitchell's exquisite songcraft, the choral elegance of The Roches and witty buffoonery of John Grant amalgamating Tell Tales into its own refreshing niche in the ever-expanding folk cartel.

The trio's sixth album Mr Impossible finds Black Dice at their most accessible and most aggravating.

This is an album packed with promise but which tails off somewhat at the close.

The overall vibe of Dear... is a strangely baroque take on loss and self pity.

It's a joyful, undeniably positive album but more significantly Electric Cables has the potential to grow into one of those cult records that may not make a sizeable impact on the musical landscape but becomes cherished by a devoted group of listeners.

With their eclectic cocktail of rock, pop, blues, jazz, soul, funk and traditional African music, these grandparents can still knock out an irresistible groove to match the best, but perhaps they need to be reminded that they should do it alone a little more often.

It's an accomplished debut album that lays the foundations for a very bright future.

The legions who bought and enjoyed El Camino are sure to enjoy this unofficial second helping and those who yearn for more of the freakier blues of Rebennack's 1960s heyday are certain to agree this brilliant gumbo is just what the doctor ordered.

Playful and spontaneous.

When it does flare up at its brightest though, [despite sounding a little burnt out at times] Weapons is exhilarating, a real call to arms from a band that deserves every bit of their continued prevalence.

It is a hugely exciting album that forges new ground for its maker to stride forth over.

The Jezabels take you through a range, giving you a story rather than simply one snapshot.

awE naturalE gives us a beguiling glimpse of an unfettered talent that most certainly is promptly, and most satisfactorily, on track.

It says much for Felice's talent that in only briefly showing his scars he can still make a commendable album.

Both Lights [is] both a complex and fascinating listen in equal measure.

Orbital are right back on form, sounding assured and instinctive, ready to seize the moment once again and take their music to another level.

Overall, I Love You, It's Cool is a solid, but unspectacular, return from Bear In Heaven.

Iradelphic is certainly Clark's most accessible record and it is arguably his best.

A rousing and eye-opening full-length debut.

It's far from self-indulgent; their song choices and clever arrangements make Rant a real, if unexpected, delight.

As it is, Divine Providence is very good rather than truly great.

This is an album rich in ideas, heavy on emotion.

From start to finish this is an album that possesses an alluring pull. Even when things are starting to sound a little sinister, the perfect guitar work, woozy vocals and hazy ambience that Tall Firs create is hard to ignore.

The only true misstep on the album is at the mid point in the shape of Steepless. For the most part this album's music is to be basked in, and after half an album of instrumentals, being suddenly presented with vocals is rather jarring.

As it is, Mountain Echo is a debut that is unlikely to offend, but it's unlikely to provoke repeated listens.

Where RMX works, it is outstanding, but it is let down by too much flabby excess that for all its artfulness, weighs the album down like a millstone round the neck.

Cowley has crafted a coherent, carefully planned suite of music here with a strong conceptual framework and a remarkably consistent sound.

While it's quite pleasant and occasionally curious at first, the novelty wears off.

As a complete album [it] lacks any depth or cogency.

Sounds drift in and out of the mix, but rarely in such a way that they have much of a lasting impact.

The Gates Of Throop And Newport is an emotional work, but it is a collection of songs rich in classy Americana and in affecting melodies. A very impressive second album.

Acousmatic Sorcery won't propel Beal to Lana Del Rey levels of fame ... it's too weird, too spooky, too idiosyncratic for that. For those who do connect with Beal's gloriously skewed vision though, you're in for a treat.

While their vision may to many appear decidedly singular, the music itself is highly accessible and polished, and comes with a sense of being a carefully considered, fully fledged complete package.

A little more focus and coherency would've made it a great record rather than a good one, but as an intriguing curiosity it is another excellent addition to Albarn's ever-growing list of projects.

For those with the stamina, it's tremendous.

It does not do anything new or especially exciting, but what it does do it does very well indeed.

With razor sharp, expletive-ridden lyrics and tight beats aplenty, it's undoubtedly Odd Future's most accomplished album to date.

It is no doubt a big risk leaving behind many aspects of the sound that made her name but on Interstellar, she advances her sound so expertly and compellingly that it is a risk that was well worth taking.

When it comes to partaking in pop, MDNA has easily set itself out as 2012's go-to drug of choice.

Such an impressive cast might initially give rise to the belief that this might be an album that delights in twisting the conventional, but in truth everyone plays it fairly safe which is likely to disappoint those hoping for something mind blowing.

The Hare, The Hound & The Tortoise is a promising debut album, one which spells a bright future for a quite unique band.

The Shape Of Things is an incredibly assured piece of work, machine like in its execution but revealing a soulful, tender exterior that we do not often see from the former Ultravox man.

While the theme of the album may be dedications to others, what Mehldau has ultimately crafted is an ode to the confidence, style and precision of his own trio's playing, displaying all the panache and charm of old companions reuniting once more.

There's obviously more to come, but this eagerly awaited debut disc doesn't disappoint.

Yet for the faithful, and even anyone who's heard the name but never the music, this is the same old wonderful stuff from one of our finest songwriters.

It's a blistering, at times thoughtful, scattergun grab-bag of magpie musical styles and broken beat rhymes that somehow hangs together with irrepressible energy and invention.

These are songs to fall in love to, to grow along with, and to share with friends in need of a life-change.

For a debut album, there are precious few mis-steps, apart from perhaps a little too much instrumental noodling. But, aside from that, it is remarkably consistent.

It's certainly a promising debut, just one hampered by a songwriting scope that strips it of its own vitality rather than informing it.

Holter is arguably at her best when exploring texture.

This is not necessarily a needless welding of two disparate musical styles, more a lost opportunity for a magical fusion of two sonic diviners.

Lights is at times let down by this lack of variation.

As infectious and riotous as If You're Young might well be, the inescapable reality is that the mass middle isn't walking over hot coals to buy this sort of music at the moment.

It's a subtle collection of tracks that is surprisingly both intimate and ambitious at the same time.

This is a real cracker of an album.

In A Dim Light is a wonderfully challenging, disorientating and immersive work.

Overall, Happy To You is a solid if unspectacular second effort, one that disperses moments of brilliance with the occasional filler track.

One of the standout albums of 2012 so far. Tremendous stuff.

There is much to recommend in Nneka's third album, though if it was slightly shorter it could be considered a great album rather than merely a good one.

Throughout Sonik Kicks, it somehow feels as if the Krautrock vibe is a needless intrusion, an unnecessary welding and meshing of styles.

Parastrophics is never dull, and there are some great moments on here. But occasionally it is a little too restless for its own good.

Unless you are in the company of some helpful stimulants, it is ultimately frustrating and chaotic. You can marvel at the wondrous and wacky keyboard sounds one minute, but you'll be shaking your head at some of the strange musical harmonies and directions the next.

Far more nuanced and textured than its two predecessors, it sounds all the better for it.

A well crafted album that takes a fascinating journey through the history of American rock music, geography and pharmaceuticals.

Taken in its entirety, it doesn't offer enough variety or dynamics to warrant repeat listens.

The Pines ably achieves what it sets out to do, but somehow you're left pining for that little bit more.

This compilation may primarily be valuable for illustrating the full length and breadth of Sylvian's musical progression.

This is music at something like its most natural, made by a collaboration who might not even have met but who have struck up a clear understanding despite the distance between them. More, please.

It is to Dry The River's credit, however, that they have in Shallow Bed created an album that both plays to their strengths and showcases a diversity of modes, each sculpted authentically. An outstanding effort.

It's a disappointment that their live energy hasn't been replicated on Rise Ye Sunken Ships.