Rossi has worked well with producer Steve Albini to clean up the tracks, and pick up the pace, making them sparse and wonderful, like intricate machines.

They provide a helpful and--mostly--enjoyable overview of the scope of Ashworth's work.

All The Plans is full of driving piano, anthemic guitar, and a bit of swagger. They owe a huge debt to Coldplay, Ocean Colour Scene, and Oasis which, in itself, must be quite galling.

A statement for all of the limp new rave pretenders to pack up and fuck off, a return to form rarely sounded or felt so exciting.

Middle Cyclone is the sound of one of the most interesting, independent, and consistently brilliant artists recording today at the top of their game.

As far as exploration goes, U2 seem to have finally found what they were looking for.

The success of such tracks generally rides on the melody, and here Bell X1 get two out of three pretty right.

In the final analysis, The Whip need to focus more on the dynamics of the dance floor and less on looking cool for the covers of inkies.

Eccentric and idiosyncratic while still being enjoyably accessible, this is an album that reinstils the ideas that Warp's early releases did: that electronic music can be thought-provoking and stir emotion as well as moving people to make shapes.

Nadler does what she does so very well. Even on familiar territory, like the dreamy, shoegazey closer Mistress, she's in sublime, beautiful form.

All too often, overly simplistic melodies meander repetitively as Moffat struggles mightily to stay on key.

Fine Fascination is a very listenable debut.

That this glorious album will be remembered long after this week's hyped offerings are forgotten is a testament to its power.

Sure, nostalgia abounds (albeit with a bit more modern sheen), but The Bishops have, in a terrible way, outdone themselves in their songwriting, and have given new meaning to the term 'autopilot'.

It means that the album’s instantly accessible and familiar to anyone who’s ever smoked a cigarette, flipped the bird to The Man or nailed the pastor’s daughter in the churchyard; but is subject to the law of diminishing returns which kicks in every time the fuck-you teen persona is reincarnated.

The results are, predictably enough, a mixture of the great, the average and the bloody awful.

While the closing tracks have some flashes of interest, they repeatedly fall into the same saccharine McCartney-esque cliches, making the last chapter of the album as unremarkable as the first.

While the album is far from musically innovative, to cite it as an entirely unrewarding and joyless listen would be hyper-critical and plain wrong.

They make the point that Condon has the talent to move in any direction that he pleases, but the reliance on smart ideas means that they only occasionally create a similar emotional impact to the work that got us so excited about Beirut in the first place.

Hold Time goes one step further by drowning the whole caboodle in a bizarre new sound that incorporates cheesy synthetic-sounding strings, a hint of Phil Spector as well as that resolutely unpretty croak.

Years Of Refusal is Morrissey on top form.

It may not receive the attention its predecessors did, from me at least, but it's an impressive return to form; that in and of itself is worthwhile.

Ultimately The Century Of Self won't trouble the charts and Trail Of Dead's status as a cult act will be assured. But there's enough here to keep their small group of followers very happy indeed.

The band still have the knack with a melody, and there's always room for a winning formula melding atmospherics with a good tune, but somehow the addictive charm of the highlights of "Citrus" such as 'Thursday' and 'New Years' just aren't present on Hush, and you're left feeling underwhelmed.

The spirit of hip hop lives on in N.A.S.A. Investigate this album if you have any taste.

A sweet, cheery and summery collection of folk tunes that sometimes verges on a more commercial surfy sound akin to Jack Johnson while still remaining on the right side of lovely.

The highlight, however, comes at the very end. The dense and deeply hypnotic title track Goodnight Oslo could well end up on the list of class A drugs the next time the government gets round to discussing such matters.

Not a bad addition to the Antipodean canon then, and an interesting mix of the macho, the sensitive, the timeless and the "cool right now"--although one suspects that the latter is not something the band have deliberately aspired to.

Melodically, too, To Be Still is both more sophisticated, more confident, and, above all, more convincing (if encountered in a less than fan-like frame of mind, the previous album could appear more than a little monotonous).

Dark Was The Night is not a perfect album by any stretch of the imagination, although there is enough on offer here to warrant a purchase.

Despite its gloomy subject matter, it's really quite a fun listen.

Unfortunately, such small moments of inspiration are only peppered throughout, and they're not enough to make up for an entire album of ramblings.

More than half of this album is mind-blowing, so it would be nice to leave Sholi with a brain buzzing with that same intrigue, confusion and happiness.

It's never devoid of expression of interest, and has a colour and charm you'll struggle to find on the airwaves these days. Most of all, it's fun. Pure and simple.

For those people who still think Lily Allen is the epitome of nepotistic celebrity culture, her second album won't change many minds. For the rest of us, It's Not Me It's You cements her position as one of this country's most interesting pop stars and proves that she's not some one-hit wonder.

First Love is a promising, and at times deeply impressive, debut album.

A thoroughly professional, exquisitely produced, and utterly soulless album.

Diplo's original production work is the real joy of this compilation though, and probably the crowning gem is 'Solta O Frango,' from the sublime Bonde Do Role album.

The album really comes into its own when soft and subtle songs.

Hannigan is talented and Sea Sew is a pretty album. It's just if there is a lot of heart in the music, there's not a lot of brain.

As its title rightly suggests, this is a feel good slice of fun best served with a cocktail in hand.

All told it's a slightly patchy album, but one which is nonetheless saved by a couple of pop gems.

The EP manages to stand alone in its own right, with the seven pieces here each offering subtle developments on that wonderful album's sound.

At times it may seem like the most depressing easy listening record you've ever heard, but there's plenty of depth and deft touches here to make it well worth checking out.

Fans of grunge, hard rock, and various types of metal will find a lot to like about these songs. Ladyfinger (ne) blend elements carefully and in such a way as to avoid kitsch.

This looks to be the album that has really brought the nomads that make up Hamilton's band together, and it's another Canadian triumph to add to an ever-increasing list.

There are some excellent tracks on the album but all in all this is a serious disappointment from a band of whom much more was expected.

Tonight... isn't a bad album by any means, and it's certainly an improvement on their last effort, but at the same time you can't shake the feeling that they missed a trick.

This certainly isn't an essential album by any means, and perhaps a retrospective of Tillman's previous five albums and EPs might have been a better introduction.

There is no pandering here, with Springsteen and the trusty E Street Band rocking and rolling with free abandon and sounding like they thoroughly enjoyed every single moment recording the album.

It's not a record to dissect or fall in love with, but rather a diverting, casual listen that brightens up the best part of an hour.

There are definite up moments in Dear John, but the odd mix of Svanängen's meandering melodies and melancholic vocals mixed with the bizarre samples and synths makes for a concoction that will either be adored or thrown out of a window in disgust.

This is a hyperactive but genuinely exciting listen.

A.M. may pick up some takers for fans of both protagonists' main bands but there is little here that will tempt the casual listener.

Oozing fun out of every pore, this record is the perfect tonic to the increasingly troubled times that 2009 brings with it and will most likely feature on many of those Best Of lists come December.

At times, you won't hear a more beautiful album this year, and there are enough heart-stoppingly dramatic moments on here to more than justify all the excited pre-release anticipation.

It sees Vernon moving things on a touch, artistically, while still retaining much of what made his debut such a delight to so many.

This is a band that don't sound like anything else around at the moment, who aren't afraid to experiment with hip-busting funk, rock and power pop all jumping into bed together.

It's another debut album laid low by ravages of hype.

This is about as close to perfection as a soundtrack can ever hope to get - perfectly capturing the emotional grit of Danny Boyle's onscreen drama, while successfully evoking a very Indian atmosphere for a very Western audience.

This is not an album that you're going to come back to again and again. It's tuneful in places, but ultimately pretty vapid.

All in, it suffers from a lack of focus and direction.

In succeeding for much of Human, Brandy makes a committed and surprisingly emotive return.

Newcomers to Justice will find A Cross the Universe only an occasionally endorphin-boosting experience, with most of the rest of the record a polished, if soulless recording of a group nearing the height of its powers.

For the most part Marshall gets it spot on, but when she doesn't she only serves to highlight the quality of the originals.

We've all heard soundscapes before, certainly, but rarely has there been anyone that fuses two genres so perfectly that they compliment each other to such a degree.

Obviously all is still not perfect in Britney's world, but Circus still does more than enough to remind us of why she's one of the world's most iconic pop stars.

Unfortunately, all this really means is an extra emphasis on weirdly pitched keyboard riffs and slightly dated sounding beats.

Glasvegas have managed to top their own previous efforts before we've even had the chance to get used to them properly.

While The Circus will undoubtedly sell bucketloads of copies, it does all become rather samey after a while.

Los Campesinos! continue to compose intelligent, well thought out songs, endearingly so, and eschew any trends other than the one they're setting for themselves.

Closing in on his sixth decade as a recording artist, it is heartening to see one of our national treasures still pushing the boundaries. Long may he continue.

Kanye being Kanye, there are occasional moments of quirky craftsmanship scattered around. The mood perks up substantially when the rhythms take centre stage.

In this day and age, though, people would be better off cherry picking the best tracks for download.

The Alesha Show contains at least five songs that could easily crack the top ten and while it does occasionally dip below perfunctory there's more then enough to keep any pop fan happy.

It is odd that something so standard provides the denouement to this album, trying to span over a decade of fan loyalty. Will they buy it? Undoubtedly. Will they like it? Who knows.

The production on Sugar Mountain is not as polished as Live At Massey Hall, which was recorded three years later as Young's career trajectory was reaching superstar status. As a result the atmosphere is electrically intimate, making the listener feel like they are actually at the gig - the true marker of a great live album.

Where Campbell and Lanegan's first album of dusty duets was an unexpected treat, this is less of a surprise but builds on that record's success, exploring the musical chemistry between the two still further.

It is a near masterpiece, elastic, eccentric and eclectic.

There are some amazing moments on this record; it's a crying shame that they're linked with the sound of a band treading water.

Their back catalogue is a stunning body of work and arguably each track deserves its own review.

This is a quiet, dignified record which, while maybe not being the most exciting album you'll hear all year, would make a cracking Christmas present for the more mature relative in your life.

Apparently the band's sixth studio album is their first to be written from electric guitar since their debut Good Feeling, and this shows strongly in the end result.

A little joy goes a long way--a long way towards one of the more carefree albums you'll enjoy this autumn.

This is a brave and hugely ambitious record, projecting far beyond the limits of most bands in their early twenties today.

This mature, nuanced performance of Berlin communicates the human tragedy of the story, leaving behind the chilliness of the studio and using the medium of the stage to its full dramatic advantage.

With Jóhannsson's surety of touch, Fordlândia becomes a wonderfully intense piece of work.

Silence Is Wild is heart wrenching, brutally honest and, at times, difficult to listen to. It is also forceful, confident and mature.

Absurdly entertaining, and quite disturbing, Ropechain will most certainly not be to the tastes of many. But it must be admired for its originality and brain-shakingly ridiculous beauty.

This is an album that challenges you, and makes you want to understand more, which in today's disposable-pop world is probably not entirely a bad thing.

Out Of Control is, generally, yet another excellent album from a group who may have risen from a lot of people's 'guilty pleasure' to becoming full-on national treasures.

At its best Intimacy is taut and claustrophobic or movingly sentimental, but for the main part it is repetitious and bafflingly poorly realised, especially given that they could have had an extra six months to work on it.

Erratic songwriting is evident from start to finish on the record.

Obviously nobody's expecting them to record anything revolutionary at this stage of their career, but it's fair to say that this album will probably only get Cure enthusiasts excited.

A Hundred Million Suns isn't a bad album - in fact, in parts, it's rather good. It's just that to find those good parts, you have to wade through acres of very average filler.

Angst is very well in small doses, but over an entire album it can start to grate.

The sounds on Microcastle form a lush landscape.

After this blisteringly good start, Cardinology settles down into a languid country-rock groove - beautiful at times, intensely listenable and professional, but probably not breaking any new ground.