Veronica Falls have carved into a niche that will always have a small but loyal following which will baffle those on the outside. Newcomers would do well to do their homework first, and enjoy this debut with a thousand points of reference.

It showcases a remarkably assured collection of songs (at times sounding like The Long Blondes do surf-pop--in no way a bad thing) as well as a real depth and maturity to songwriting that dwarfs the offerings of its home-recorded predecessor.

Despite her talents, ultimately In Heaven feels like a bit of a disappointment, but a great album is still well within their abilities in the future if they ditch some of the kookiness and concentrate on their considerable strengths.

Try it once and you'll be back for more--even if you're a long term convert to the beautifully sculpted world of Apparat.

There are some noteworthy moments where brilliance is glimpsed, but this album seems to be maintaining the status quo rather than sparking a revolt.

It is the sound of a band entirely comfortable and confident with where they are.

Whether you're a long-standing fan or new to Butcher Boy, Helping Hands is well worth the investment; it leaves you warm long after it's over, and their shifting moods and sounds means there's something new to discover on each listen.

It would be a shame if S.C.U.M cannot escape from the oppressive prison that preconceptions have built, because Again Into Eyes is worthy than a better fate than that. Honestly. It's well worth a try.

It might not be entirely mega, but there's enough to fawn over with this robust collection of breezy and inventive Americana.

The success of the album lies partly in the production, which allows the teenagers close to the limits of acceptable disorder, but reins them in and lays on the quality when needed.

The simple truth is, you won't find a sadder yet more uplifting album all year.

As a whole, this EP is not a disaster by any means, and as such it's perhaps an exaggeration to call it a disappointment. But for those familiar with a body of work that's to date shown an impressively high quality control there's cause for concern.

An immaculately told doomed love story with such an evocative quality that you can almost smell the rain on the logs, The High Country is an album in which to immerse yourself.

Love them or loathe them, it is hard to ignore the brash confidence with which the band take another giant stride towards stadium dominance.

This is an album that sparkles with invention and surprise.

Paradise is the sound of a more mature and confident Slow Club, but without losing that adorable edge that's so vital to them. Start clearing some space at the top of those 'Best of 2011' lists, for this is sure to figure.

Plodding rhythms predominate and there's a prevalent sense of nostalgia that sometimes threatens to become a little syrupy, not least because of the numerous cliches about highways or the open road.

Dreams Come True was never going to reach the near untouchable height of his canon, but you'd be hard pressed to map out a better first attempt to break free from that diamond-encrusted leash.

These are truly wonderful songs that deserved to be poured over and analysed for months to come.

It may not be leaps and bounds ahead of previous St Vincent releases, but this is a rich and multi-faceted album to pay close attention to.

With their second album The Drums are more absorbing than ever, and have created a record that will last far longer than their first.

Here, Pritchard and company aim for an even more mainstream success than Konk, and they will likely succeed in selling a boatload of albums. But they've lost something in the process.

Hysterical marks a significant return to form and fortune for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah.

This series of albums has strongly suggested that Lowe is able to make the music he wishes to make, without any pressure of expectation or commercial improvement. Sometimes the old ones are the best.

On their own merits some of these tracks are classy pop songs, but there needs to be more depth and scope to Grouplove's sound if they are to look forward.

At times it can become something of an amorphous blob, with songs blending into one another, but the highlights of Home and Flight ensure that there's something tangible to hang on to.

It's one of the finer conversions of 2011, managing the delicate task of crafting a record that sounds both incomprehensibly universal, deeply personal, and, yes, endlessly listenable.

You Are All I See may be surreal and even hard work at times, but this is a work of sheer beauty whose contours are worth exploring in depth.

Although Pull Up Some Dust... delves deep into both North and South American musical history and moves rapidly from style to style, there is scant scope for quibbling over Cooder's honesty or authenticity.

Klinghoffer wisely makes no attempt to mimic Frusciante; the new boy on the block's musical talent is obvious in its own right here, and the musical partnership that has formed between the older members of the band and Klinghoffer is evident. Red Hot Chili Peppers are not quite ready to slope off yet.

It sounds a hefty record to contend with, but it's actually an easy listen; her voice, while pouty and oozing sex, lures the listener in with the promise of fascinating, wide-eyed stories.

Still Living is an unobjectionable album, and any of its songs, taken individually, are certainly a fine soundtrack to the final lazy days of summer. As a whole, though, Still Living barely limps along, only occasionally revealing flashes of semi-greatness, and it ultimately falls victim to its own aesthetics.

They're making music for people who love dance music, which makes them part of their own audience. If you fit the demographic, you'll feel right at home.

The collection of 11 tracks are both majestic and effortless--qualities that give the album a feeling of natural progression, perhaps bettering what's gone before.

For new fans, this is a pretty good introduction. For fans who already own all his previous work, it's more of the same, but so well-crafted that they probably won't mind.

In order to achieve the greatness within their grasp the bicycle club need to do some free-wheeling instead of all this furious peddling.

Overall, it's an easily enjoyable album with its heart in the right place.

If this is the sound of the Apocalypse, it's the sound of a fiendishly inventive musician and his talented producer trying to squeeze in all the great ideas before armageddon hits.

If you're a fan of Burnett's sound or just plain curious you'll find this a welcome project that does exactly what it sets out to do.

Room(s) is both evocative and threatening--a place of danger and thrill.

Hearts is not an album of change, but one that revels in the joy of what you know.

La Liberación is not a new lease of life but perhaps a glimpse of one - if only in moments, if only in one track, there still seems to be enough to keep them going. And on those good bits alone, they're worth just one more chance.

As ever, there's a jamming seam throughout the Malkmus landscape, with the likes of Brian Gallop descending (or ascending, more appropriately) into freeform guitar passages that, while inevitably slightly indulgent, are never less than engaging, tuneful and, above all, enjoyable.

Seven Rainbows is too limited to reflect the globe-trotting wanderlust of this character, Alice Gold. It's too tame to namecheck her wishlist, too insipid to do them justice.

For the inexperienced deterred by Fela's 30 minute jams, Seun Kuti offers a more digestible approach to the afrobeat form, without sacrificing any of the clarity and energy of the original brand. For the already initiated, it's a crisper, more modern approach--unlikely to offer much that is truly new or unexpected, but insanely inspiring nonetheless.

At times Drums Between The Bells is too busy, too packed with musical style and incident, but its patchwork nature reveals itself over subsequent listens to be a largely rewarding one.

Dolly has invited you to her hoe-down, and it would be churlish to refuse. Just remember to leave your brain at the barn door.

Amongst the buzzing guitars however it is possible to detect small signs of improvement and fine-tuning, whilst it also boasts a greater melodic strength than its predecessor.

Open-mindedness and a change of approach is often laudable but, in this case, it has resulted in an album that, whilst entirely pleasant and enjoyable, is far less adventurous.

It's a different animal than its predecessor, but Watch Me Dance is a fine second outing from a promising young producer.

The contributions of an impressive guest list only serve to further enhance this compelling music, which remains uniquely imbued with the spirit of the environment that shaped it.

What is most impressive about Route One Or Die is the utter sense of conviction and commitment brought to every aspect of this complex, intricate music.

This is the most consistently impressive Beirut record yet, proving its creator is now able to harness his occasional excesses and directly engage with his audience without losing the invention and flair that make him such a rare talent.

Just as the early promise of the album looks to be coming unwound, closing track Pictures Of A Bird finds the band in fine form.

Welcome Reality gets it half right--this is a decent debut which more than lives up to the hype, but is so mind-blowingly out-there that any suggestion that it resembles 'reality' ought to launch a Trading Standards investigation.

Slave Ambient is an amazing record, but it is far from immediate as these songs take time to develop into something tangible.

Watch the Throne feels all too fractured from the tension of two rappers (and two egos) at the top of their game, trying to get along.

It's a shame that Hynes' songwriting chops haven't developed as quickly as his musical skills. But this shouldn't put the brakes on Hynes' progress: Coastal Grooves might be a forgettable, minor work, but Hynes' career to date proves that he shouldn't be written off easily.

In Waves is not Trivium's finest moment by any stretch of the imagination but it does point towards the band having found direction and its own voice for the first time in quite a while.

His debut album (a previous finished collection was never released) skates dangerously close to self indulgent pastiche yet contains some immaculately played gems that possess the definitive crackle of old school analogue tape sessions.

Their impression is clear, but the soul, and even the primary reason why this sort of music was great in the first place, is coldly removed. It makes for a slightly uncanny listen, like a collection of all the filler tracks from '88 twee.

This is a brilliantly ambitious, exploratory recording that captures the pure, powerful vibe of a great ensemble.

If you want to stretch your wings further, you need originality and you need not just bravado but actual courage--and Viva Brother's world is neither brave nor new.

While there's nothing particularly wrong with looking to the past for influences, Yucca struggles at times beneath the weight of those it seeks to emulate.

The Randy Newman Songbook Vol 2 is an invigorating celebration of the power of music, and a delicate declaration of the power of one man and his piano.

Consistent, yes, but also vaguely disappointing, the band may be at the peak of their powers but it's almost a shame to see all the mystery drained away.

Unfortunately, it's generally downhill all the way thereafter, as it becomes rapidly apparent that Young The Giant have banged out all their best songs early on and rapidly run out of ideas.

If you love the bands The Ladybug Transistor love it's worth a listen, but this won't be the album to propel them forwards.

It's an uplifting end to one of the best albums of 2011, one that marks Ghostpoet as a name to keep a very close eye on.

There are flourishes throughout, but there are also too many pretensions and, ultimately, the album is undone by an unwelcome abundance of unresolved ideas.

With a little more focus and a natural approach, he could find himself a unique voice that sits outside of the styles he is trying to embrace.

At times doubts can surface as to whether it can fully work but against not inconsiderable odds he ultimately manages to pull it off, delivering on the whole an impressively irregular album of Latin-inflected laptop folk.

His dedication certainly pays off, Friends & Family grabs ears almost immediately--but as his tropes wear down, it can't help but feel a little hollow.

Little Dragon clearly weren't broken, so they haven't tried to fix themselves; they have instead filed their art into an incisive point, and with Ritual Union stand at the top of their trade. This is far more than instantly-forgotten ad fodder.

Unfortunately, as the album progresses into its latter half, attention wanes.

As it turns out, music of surprising intricacy and beauty lies within these canvases, but you'd be well advised to consult your musical doctor before opening up fully to them.

It is at times a little too simplistic, and you have to be in the right mood to accept songs about cakes, capybara and economic meltdown. However, when the world starts to look too serious, spending your free time in the day-glo world of Shonen Knife can only lift the spirits.

Konkylie is a vibrant, often intense, mix of house and pop, infused, wonderfully, with both a spiritual glow and a dark clubland soul.

The curious would do best to avoid, and die-hard Robbins fans better advised to watch one of his multitude of films.

y may want that you are always happy, but, while there's much for the listener to enjoy here, they will need to be more concise to achieve their obvious potential.

There may come a time when Crystal Antlers' potential coalesces into a great album, and will be greeted with true accolades, rather than a better-luck-next-time send off--unfortunately for us all, Two-Way Mirror is still pre-natal.

A brave experiment then, and more than likely a fabulous live experience too, but ultimately more of a novelty for the curious than an essential purchase.

Until they're discovered by a big primetime television programme--and that day will surely come--those who know can rest assured that Buffalo is another strong entry in their impressive catalogue.

It's an overheard confessional, or an electronic diary entry from a very sad masked man, and an artistically impressive and musically satisfying one at that.

Gardens & Villa, though, is an album that casts light on its creators' vices as much as their virtues, and, for all the honesty that implies, remains a drawn-out suggestion that the band ought one day to generate a long player more worthy of their principles. Still, not bad for a first go.

They've succeeded in making an album that does well to second-guess its listener, whilst never disowning the sound that first brought Greene to the foreground. "Chillwave" might be dead and buried, but Washed Out has only just set foot in the water.

With its often complex textures and patterns, much of The Secret could represent a challenging listen for those unfamiliar with music of this genre. Yet it's unquestionably a triumph; building impressively on Vieux Farka Toure's promising work to date and making good on its creator's promise to "dig deep into the secrets of my own history and my country's culture in order to move the music forward. "

Of its kind, Bakesale is a classic, and well worth reappraising.

Skying feels like a watershed of sorts for the band, because if they now want to be seen as more than creators of masterful records, the whole package will need to reflect that brilliance and artistry.

Best listened to in silence on a home stereo with cinematic projection; this is a remarkable achievement from Johannsson, and a welcome change from the string-drenched sound that has become ubiquitous in modern film scores.

Ultimately, this is a nice, pleasant debut album which will make the perfect accompaniment to a fair few summer barbecues this year, but which may not be listened to much once the grey skies and dark nights of October are upon us.

For those with open minds and without unfair expectations of artists, it will be another fascinating addition to a long and exceptional career.

Hawk flits between moods with such frequency as to both delight and confound an audience split between enjoyment of his variety and desperation for Hawk to repeat the feat of the LP's finest moments.

The moments that do shine are thoroughly warm; warm in a natural, pretention-dropping way, which seems to be where they're aiming. If The Donkeys can recreate that feeling a few more times they might be wonderful. For now they're merely salvageable.

This is an album which bears repeated listening, and which deserves to become more than just a summer soundtrack; but rather one of those releases that can be revisited again and again, with each listen revealing new details and delights.

Future Heart is the album's standout moment because it represents a rare moment of cathartic release, the band finally letting their brooding rhythm swell into something nearly anthemic. Young Widows do it well, but a little less restraint would do them one better.

It's that subtle interplay between humour and sadness that makes for meaningful, lasting music, and VanGaalen walks the line with the best of them.

Rare Bird Alert is every bit as good as its predecessor, and it's a delight to hear Martin and his band on form.