These expertedly crafted songs do deserve a wider hearing, and if this album is to remain a hidden treasure, then it's the general public's loss in all honesty.

With five singles sitting and waiting, Aphrodite is the record she needed.

Delphic have started 2010 as we all hope it will go on - with superb music.

If Night Work set out to remind listeners what they loved about Scissor Sisters in the first place, it succeeds. If it had a couple more absolute killer songs then it would be an unqualified triumph but, as it stands, Night Work will do more than nicely.

We know 3OH!3 can be entertaining and danceable, but too many tracks seem rushed, unenthusiastic and even boring.

Those seeking greater musical challenges will probably want to look elsewhere, but there is much here to praise and enjoy.

Sex Dreams And Denim Jeans is catchy, fresh-sounding and brilliantly self-referential, with an attitude a million miles removed from a major label star pretending to be like, totally, OMG, mental.

While there is plenty of soul in the sound, there is a lack of body in both delivery and melody.

While Further ironically does little to further The Chemical Brothers' sound, they have once again produced a strong and sturdy album of high quality electronic music that still leaves many of their peers sounding one dimensional and unexciting.

If this is just the start of an artistic resurgence then it'll be interesting to see what comes next. You feel that he's just getting started again.

Boys Inside is Mason's best work since his Beta Band days - a rich, dark slice of mournful, glacial electronica with a heart. Richard X has smoothed away the edges, yet lets Mason stamp his personality on proceedings.

In broadening their horizons they've not sacrificed quality, every note and sound is perfectly executed. Foals have made impressive strides forward, and you'd be mad not to follow them.

With Body Talk Pt 1 she's ready to finally take her place at pop's top table of greats. For once, the sequel can't some soon enough.

Fallon's understanding of the redemptive power of music elevates American Slang from being a good record to a great one.

In amongst the filler of the album's latter half, he still manages to hold his own with Jay-Z on the pounding Light Up, and sit back and admire 'Lil Wayne's oddly compelling flow on Miss Me. Self-obsessed, paranoid, fleetingly spectacular and always interesting, Thank Me Later does indeed mark the arrival of rap's newest superstar.

Despite its promising start, the album sags in the middle with Harcourt indulging, not for the first time, his love of Tom Waits.

The Like take hooks to the next level by repeating choruses as many times as possible, but the sections are so catchy it's very difficult to get annoyed by the repetitions.

Fortunately the lack of ambition displayed during the album-naming sessions doesn't correspond to this work's contents. It's a bold, dramatic, more than a little screwed-up and stunningly exciting statement.

Their approach avoids downright imitation of their source material, and they somehow capture a broad swathe of popular music in their own style.

Aguilera has a fantastic voice, which, when used properly, can carry a song that would have otherwise been fairly ordinary (Prima Donna being just one example) and the production on most of the songs is exemplary. It's just unfortunate that either Aguilera or her label didn't have the balls to make a very brave and exciting pop record.

It would seem that Destroyer Of The Void is an album that manages to both impress initially and continue to reveal virtues well into repeat spins; a trick that ensures the satisfaction of all manner of listeners, and one that reflects Blitzen Trapper's growing reputation as something of a must-hear.

No longer the challenging, lo-fi music of yore, what has arrived in its place doesn't have the individuality or character to sustain longer lasting interest.

Here We Go Magic have made a fantastic album that is at once inseparable from its Brooklyn beginnings and transcendental of its place in time and space.

LP4, without a shadow of a doubt, is the most self-indulgent, unpredictable record of the year so far.

Rather like that other, more famous, Conor - Oberst, of Bright Eyes fame - there's a sense of foundations being laid, in preparation for a career of real longevity. Hop on now, for this promises to be quite a ride.

Apparitions is merely a debut album from a young band who know their way around electronics and textures a hell of a lot better than most other young bands. And although at times it seems like they're copying right off of Merriwether Post Pavilion's paper, they muster just enough creative vision to avoid lawsuit-level infringement.

Cunningham is skilled in sustaining uncomfortable moments right up to a breaking point but he's also brilliant at making this self-contained, insular music sound sleek, modern and somehow appetising.

Does this sophomore effort, then, live up to the expectations created by its predecessor? In most ways, yes. In others, perhaps not.

It's not an album that will change your life, but its airy grooves make for perfectly pleasant listening for under an hour. And sometimes, that's all you need.

Unusually for a debut album, there's not a dud track here, and even the less immediate tracks such as February Snow work their way into your brain after a few plays.

Overall Wake Up The Nation is an impressive achievement which sees Weller's brand of psychedelic soul-rock revitalized. Retro has rarely sounded this fresh.

Seven years after their first release, they've gone from being That Band Who Did The Kate Bush Cover to a genre of their very own, with a thousand identikit wannabes, and The Chaos is the cherry on top of their spiky, raucous, post punk cake.

The Bride Screamed Murder is a slight feint away from the two albums that preceded it, but it is, nevertheless, distinctly Melvins.

Even at its loudest, there's nothing objectionable or earth shattering about To The Sea; but there doesn't really need to be.

Sleepy Sun treat blues the way Fleet Foxes handle traditional folk, and that can mean only one thing - an absolutely absorbing listening experience.

Weighing in at just 32 minutes, Treats can hardly be accused of outstaying its welcome. In fact, its brevity is its strength - too much aural pummelling could be too much. As it is, as soon as the album finishes, you'll want to put it on again straight away.

The entire album was recorded in just five days flat. It may have been knocked off in a spare moment between Guillemots albums, but in Fly Yellow Moon Fyfe Dangerfield has made a very early contender for one of the best albums of 2010.

The result is a collection of remarkably accomplished songs. With age, their early lyrical maturity can only blossom.

The Family Jewels isn't the classic debut album that her early singles suggested was on the way, but there's enough promise here to carry her through the hype.

Jurado is still ultimately concerned with tales of transience and woe, but he and Swift temper Saint Bartlett with such rich benevolence--from the generous, autumnal arrangements to its thoughtful, crafted lyrics--it is impossible not to be heartened by the whole affair.

The Ghost Who Walks is by no means a poor album. There are lovely moments littered throughout and for the most part Elson is a convincing performer. Having said that, it's not an album that lives on in the memory, and the feeling that you've heard much of it before is hard to shake.

Micah P Hinson is a natural byproduct of his time and place, but he's also an artist with a steady hand and an unflinching eye for the gruesome details.

This Is Happening suffers no shortage of really great songs. Each track is a well-executed study in the finer points of the long form, each thumping and building, wavering and shifting in the haze of its own self-contained ecosystem.

The impression is that the same tale is being told on every track, just with slightly adapted words each time, and this too undoubtedly contributes to the sense of overall blandness with which this album is suffused.

Brothers is a woozy, murky album, fat as a tick, and riled up like a kicked hornets' nest. Whatever growing pains they've gone through as a pair has been worth it; Brothers hits harder than either of their solo albums.

They've made an album that is bold and commendable, and nothing like as preachy as it might have been.

Lidell has been through a lot in his personal life since the last album, and it seems that has prompted a rethink on his music - a turn in direction back to the less predictable, more incendiary writing of Multiply and his days with Supercollider. It suits him to be back in that place.

As this wildly talented, unpredictable and near flawless young singer and musician bids her farewell with the album's longest track, BaBopBye Ya, this time in cocktail club torch singer style, one can but marvel at the impressive range, ambition (realised) and detail of this deeply polished, professional yet utterly, brilliantly bonkers album.

Some tracks may dip into generic mid-tempo dancefloor fodder, such as Why Does The Wind, but overall this is up there with some of Thorn's best work since Everything But The Girl.

They're heading back to form in time to conquer a festival or two - but the nature of that song does leave you wondering if Franks will just be happy to be back at all.

In the end, Keep Calm And Carry On is a forgettable, throwaway stopgap, a dog-eared blast of mediocrity in the career of a mainstay band.

There is some real chemistry here, but for the third album, it may be advisable to pay more attention to quality control in order to make the truly epic album that is doubtlessly lying somewhere within The Dead Weather.

The National have pulled off a neat trick here - an immediate, commercial album that grows with each listen. While High Violet is patently as good as its antecedents, it is also very much its own beast.

The music's catchy, sure, and this time round it's undeniably uplifting in both tone and substance, but there's precious little about Night Train that's surprising enough to elevate it out of the realm of song-of-the-moment radio pop.

It won't be to everyone's tastes and it's clear with a name like theirs they won't be appearing on Fearne Cotton's playlist anytime soon, but there's an energy and vitality to Latin that's impossible to deny.

Weird it may be, but when CocoRosie get it right, as with the cutesy pop and dark piano melancholy mix of Lemonade, or the beautiful ethereal balladry of the title track for example, they are unstoppable.

It's lo-fi at its finest and a contender for one of the more impressive debuts of the year so far. Fans of the genre will lap it up and with very good reason: it's short, sharp and straight to the point.

This is ambience in which to indulge, though occasionally the structure of the songs becomes ragged, as if a little bit too much late night medication has been taken on board. That doesn't spoil any of the songs, but it just makes them that bit weirder.

It's a rootsy album that is delivered faithfully and respectfully, but one where the strong, clear voice of its author cuts through powerfully.

This whole album holds together in a way that their debut didn't. It's a bold step forward that commands respect and suggests that they may have some longevity.

Their loud, rough and tumble early efforts on Almost Killed Me and Separation Sunday have combined nicely here with a sense of southern rock and pop rock from the past few albums to produce another gem for an amazingly consistent band with plenty of room left to grow.

Your Future Our Clutter is a tight, coherent, rock-out album--and it's great to see some discipline back in The Fall after years of scrappy offerings.

Forgiveness Rock Record might lack the romance of Funeral but it's far more alive than Neon Bible, with an urgency and energy that invigorates rather than drains.

Proclamations of his greatness may be slightly exaggerated, but Cosmogramma certainly adds to a deservedly growing reputation.

Together is certainly far-reaching in its ambitions, and it often seems close to collapsing under the combined weight of all its collaborators, but it never falters, despite its dangerous dance. The New Pornographers have taken a risk in fussing with their sound, but in large part it's paid off beautifully.

Diamond Eyes is an impressive offering from a mainstay band whose time should have already come and gone.

These songs, penned by such as Ennio Morricone, Mina and Fred Bongusto, have been treated with the utmost respect. Patton has ensured that they are as authentic as possible by employing a 15-strong band together with a 40-piece orchestra.

There is little doubt they will be soundtrack composers in the years to come, but this is their bread and butter, and makes for an extremely impressive addition to an already formidable canon.

It's a work of craft from a continually rewarding, continually American, singer-songwriter.

If the world wants to point at the band's best album it's easily Planet of Ice, but if we're in the business of recognizing a group's ethos, Omni stands as the prime example of what Minus The Bear want to achieve.

Overall, this is a fine debut album that does exactly what it says on the tin. While they won't win any points for innovation, Two Door Cinema Club are going to find their way into a lot of people's hearts during 2010.

Like most Hole albums, Nobody's Daughter has flashes of inspiration but is generally weighed down by inconsistency and too many songs that sound like they were phoned in.

For those that can stand the fact that this lot really do possess some talent, this might be another slice of Sub Pop to add to the collection.

Gilmore has merely rendered Fever more American market-friendly and given it a strong flavor of stateside nu-metal. It's a pattern that is just too repetitious, too anodyne and just plain insipid.

Rick Rubin has shaped their songs, smoothing down some of their rougher edges, but the end result is as rich and diverse as ever, helping them fulfill their musical mission with more focus, yet without compromising their eccentricity or their trusted formula.

This may be her strongest set of songs yet and, even if not every one of its experiments quite comes off, at least these are indicative of an artist who's not content to cruise on auto-pilot.

V.V. Brown is a prodigious talent who deserves to have a hit record, even if it's just to reward all the hard work that has clearly gone into this debut.

Sleep Mountain, the second long-player from The Kissaway Trail, finds the Danish quintet embracing the more sweeping aspects of rock 'n' roll emotional grandeur. And, in large part, they succeed marvellously.

Despite the clear-cut influences, Airbourne sound like they just want to rock and have fun in the process of making music to play live. Like Motorhead, this is a band that should be seen in all its headbangin', hair raisin' glory to be fully appreciated.

One Good Thing is a fine album, and individually the tracks are pleasingly reflective, but the instant familiarity and maudlin cosiness is more soporific than it is arresting.

For a dance music album, Swim sounds not only refreshingly organic, but also remarkably downbeat. Most remarkable of all, perhaps, is the way that Caribou have succeeded in marrying up these two things and still managed to make an album that is infused with a rhythm, a groove and a watery loveliness all of its own.

All Days Are Nights is the sound of the man doing what he does best: bruised, tender, emotional and, at times, quite brilliant music.

My Best Friend Is You hasn't got the immediate freshness of Made Of Bricks, and it can make for a disorientating, uneven listen at times. Yet it's never anything other than compelling and demonstrates that, despite what a lot of people thought when she first appeared, that Kate Nash could well be around for a good few years yet.

While he's certainly earned his right to experiment with genres - really, to do whatever the hell he wants - he's never so affecting or engaging as when he's reduced to his quivering roots.

It delivers what you'd expect, but ambition is unfulfilled and the constant pursuit of seemingly random stylistic tangents reveals a lack of focus.

Emerging at the end, the listener has a real sense of having been immersed in something coherent and whole over the course of the 10 tracks; even if at the same time--dreamlike--there may well be no such clear sense of what it all might have meant.

It is full of sadness and hope, but ultimately it is a celebration of human spirit and the unique talent of Roky Erickson. This indeed is special and magical music.

It's disappointing that even with all this potential that you'd be hard pressed to remember most of the album once it's finished. You'll remember that it sounded good, but you won't remember how it sounded and even several plays fail to bestow "grower" status on this disc.

Plants And Animals can write good songs, but because they tend to be quite long and full of melodic meandering, they were better suited to their old acoustic style were the electric guitar was used sparsely to take the song elsewhere and captivate the listener. You can have too much of the good thing. But at times on La La Land, the guitar work is undeniably brilliant.

It's a brave, sometimes successful, but ultimately flawed attempt to evolve and grow the band's sound. The one crime is a distinct lack of any memorable tunes, but it will certainly stand as one of 2010's more interesting releases.

In his second album, The Wild Hunt, Matsson has made a stunningly genuine folk record that compares favourably to staples of the genre dating back to Bob Dylan's The Times They Are A-Changin'.

The vibe is overwhelmingly positive, not to mention a bit woozy - ideal to take the edge off a hard day and turn it into a good evening.

As a whole, Weathervanes is a largely successful and ambitious trip into uncharted territory for the band, and despite its somewhat saccharine sheen, the album wears well with multiple listens and creates a spooky, dreamlike economy of its own.

With Everybody Wants To Be On TV, they've given those masses what they want. But there's nothing for the discerning music fan.

The result is a real evolution for Tunng, producing their most consistent and fully rounded album yet.

I Speak Because I Can is, without doubt, an album to really delve into, and one to lose yourself in for hours. Added to that, it asserts Marling as one of this country's most talented young songwriters; our Conor Oberst or our David Berman.

Go is a phenomenal record with almost every bar bursting with beauty. It is soulful, fun, naive and sad in its own fantastical world; if only life really were this good.

This fourth album shows Sharon and The Dap Kings at their most polished, funky and soulful. Mrs Jones sure has got a thing goin' on.