It's clear from Flamingo that Flowers accounts for the lion's share of talent in The Killers, and if they ever go on definite hiatus, their fans can look forward to more consistently good material in the form of Flowers' solo albums.

With much to enjoy on this collection that has preceded their goodbye it would be music's loss if this were to once again genuinely signal the end of this quirky, characterful band.

Innundir Skinni is still a worthy achievement, it's emotional but not melodramatic; understated yet grand. But it is a mixture rather than a whole and lacks the cohesion of Arnalds' inspiring first album.

Crocodiles are a talented rock band with a strong sense of songwriting, for sure, but they're also very happy to be playing music, and that joy shines through any amount of fuzz Sleep Forever might throw at you.

This is an album that, once consumed, lies dormant in the mind of the listener, ingrained but not at the forefront, playing in the subconscious; more demanding than background music, but short of immediacy.

Unlike anything else on the album, Clear Spirits stands out, with its submerged melodies, insistent basslines, and cascading guitars. If nothing else it proves that Les Savy Fav can still be vital and are still writing challenging, inventive material.

For what it sets out to do, it's damn near perfect, and what higher praise is there than that?

It's these hints of darkness, together with an ability to take on several differing styles of music in the course of one album, that make Black Mountain such a compelling listen. They remain a captivating proposition, with an arsenal of powerful riffs now at their disposal.

Though the band sound in reasonably good form and the album shows how much Burgess has developed as a singer over the years, overall the songs themselves are just not strong enough. The Charlatans don't touch us this time.

Where its predecessor found Plant operating in a finely-tuned genre, Band Of Joy gives him an opportunity to explore his influences, and to colour a few choice odds and ends from the rock 'n' roll canon with his indelible mark.

As it stands though, Barking is a mostly-solid album let down by a couple of weak links.

Castle Talk is their Born To Run, scrappy and brimming with flashes of greatness; it's the album that could very well launch them into a lasting place in the indie rock canon.

Phosphene Dream is not a release to sing along to so much as lie helpless with whilst narratives spawn and play out in your imagination, invariably twisted and terrifying but always interesting. Psychological trauma might not necessarily be what you what you want from an album, but at least it provokes a response.

The feeling remains, however, that Ivory Tower the album will be at its most effective when the visuals come in to play. Many of its instrumentals lack an essential element of either melody or art, so it's safe to assume they will come to life better on screen.

Although The Morning After's mood is distinctly downbeat and does not have the same direct appeal as The Night Before, the songs are often touching and grow more so with each listen.

Much of the experimentation is on the surface, and there does not seem to be a great deal of further depth or sophistication. Often, it is all too bright and too relentlessly ecstatic to feel truly meaningful or substantial.

It could be said that a work as strong as Majesty Shredding cements Superchunk as an important band or a permanent indie fixture, but that's a bit of a misnomer. If anything this record is simply proof that Superchunk are going to make the music they want to make regardless of whether it fits into a modern context or not.

Skit I Allt is another commendably audacious example of Dungen's commitment and musicality. Yet for all their skill with both melody and with improvisation, Dungen risk ending up being too esoteric to be a pop band and too dreamy and light textured to excite committed psych listeners.

Their incongruence makes neither any less brilliant. So powerful is its imagery, and so timeless is its presentation, Lisbon is sure to join High Violet on any shortlist of the most memorable albums of 2010.

Shadow Temple is a very interesting album. But it's also very demanding. It's as if you need a doctorate in Brooklyn Hipster Music Studies to fully appreciate the band's ingenuity. Several tracks amble on interminably, and often they're so dramatic as to add up to a collection of music that feels more like a film score than an album.

Most of Body Talk Pt 2 is more of the same, but Robyn does occasionally take some significant risks.

Interpol mostly deliver on this album with what they do best, sprinkling some of their most creative moments across it. If this is a schism, it'll be intriguing to see what happens when the pieces eventually do settle.

This album of covers brims with intensely organic and engaging moments, breathing new life into songs that could've just hung out like tired old windbags.

It's this capacity to write immediately affecting songs coupled with an effortless cool that will see Hurts catapulted towards stardom. The fact that the album tails off dramatically with a series of appalling ballads in the shape of The Water and Unspoken will almost certainly be overlooked in favour of the classy sounds of Wonderful Life or the glorious pulsing anthem of Better Than Love.

This is red wine music, no doubt about it, but red wine music for the discerning indie intelligentsia, perfect for a long night where the only ambition you've got left is to sink so far into the floor cushions that you'll never get up again.

Being a live album, some tracks are stretched out beyond their natural lifespan (the average length of the songs here is about six and a half minutes), but even then it's a joy to listen to the interaction between Thompson and his band.

All considered, Minotaur is thoroughly pretty and easy to appreciate on a compositional level; the usual blend of modern-era indie pop with iconic '60s sensibilities. But it's like that particular horse has been beaten past recognition, rendering Minotaur a little too safe for its own good.

Familial is a solo album that has qualities you might not have expected to begin with: vivid, memorable lyrics that describe a variety of emotions, its incredibly soft arrangements and, of course, the fact that he can actually sing, proving wrong the famous 'drummers are not frontmen' rock'n'roll myth in the process.