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.