Option Paralysis may be considered a side-step by some, but there are so many exuberant flourishes and cleverly thought out harmonies that it's probably better to consider it a mind-boggling step over. The Dillinger Escape Plan isn't out of tricks just yet.

Archie Bronson Outfit have hovered on the fringes of success for some time now, somehow never quite achieving the success that their critical acclaim would suggest they deserve. Coconut may be a bit too obtuse to change that, but it's a fascinating release; for those willing to explore beneath the seemingly obtuse surface, there's much to delight.

Ably coaxed on and assembled by Ward--whose input ought not to be overlooked--Volume Two is an outstanding collection of tracks worthy of any discerning listener's undivided attention.

Minor grumbles aside, however, Two Thousand And Ten Injuries is a deliriously fun listen, one that manages to suck you into its own little world for half an hour.

There are a couple of occasions when Goldfrapp's new relaxed attitude shades into lazy songwriting: Dreaming and Hunt are bland. But overall Head First is skilful pop designed for adults.

When even the track titles are difficult and unclear it is evident that one is dealing with a band that demands dues are paid. If you choose to do so, the time and effort spent may well ultimately pay off.

There are standout moments of beauty in the sound they make--usually when pausing to gaze upon the full sun--but these reveries are the exception rather than the rule, and just as the listener is absorbing them, along comes a guitar to wrench them away.

It is a hugely impressive piece of work, and subsequent listens will reveal further layers and melodies you missed first time around. Don't delay the induction a minute longer.

Tom McRae is so desperately trying to convince us that he's still a curmudgeon and angst continues to fill his soul, but it sounds unconvincingly flat.

An invigorating album, then, and one that says a great deal despite being instrumental the whole way through.

Skull In The Ice is an exception; perhaps the most tender of all the songs, it begins with a stripped-down strum and evolves in the chorus with luscious, rich surroundings. It's the sort of crescendo all these tales deserve, but the hungover state of affairs that rings supreme in this record seldom allows for this to happen.

We Built A Fire is an unassuming, quietly smouldering flash of brilliance to carry us from the deadened depths of whitest winter into the slanted and enchanted light of a spring well spent.

It is an oddly affecting and [Dark Destiny is] a neat way to close out an album that, despite dropping the odd clanger, pillages the '80s with considerable style.

What can be said for Alberta Cross's debut LP is that it does what it does very well, and the good and great of songwriting deserve recognition regardless of how conventionally they reach their goals.

Its real strength lies in the fact that it implores you to return for repeated visits to a world riddled with other people's cast-offs. Ironically, it recycles nothing; everything here is box fresh.

It's an ethereal end to an album that is both exhausting and exhilarating. Sisterworld is, in musical terms, an interesting place to visit, but you'd definitely not choose to live there.

The pace is so chilled it would make a trip-hopper give up valium, and once past Vaporise it's hard to take much notice. You suddenly find yourself at track seven, and don't remember what's come before. Things do pick up again towards the end, although by now the debt owed to other artists is piling up.

This album will, at least in theory, open a new chapter in the band's story, but the songs--as well as being significantly more streamlined--manage to stir and move like never before.

Tomorrow, In A Year provides a complex view of The Knife as unmatched in their daring, their music quite defying categorisation as one species or another.

The occasional overlong segment of a song (The Battle Of Hampton Roads) and self-pitying tone and vocal that skate a little close to "emo" (No Future Part Three...) are really the only complaints that can be levelled. This very American, sometimes Irish-American sounding album, funny, occasionally scabrous, occasionally angry but most often simply passionate, is one of the smartest and most intelligent punk releases in a while, and one of the most enjoyable too.

You won't find a more compelling wall of sound in many other places this year.

In short, Pavement's influence will continue to be felt for years to come, and this compilation admirably explains why.

That, however, is before you take into account various Eastern influences that lace themselves around the guitar lines, not to mention some unexpected interludes of funk, hip hop and even swing. As a result, taking the whole record on board in one sitting is an intoxicating experience.

Although each track sounds different, there's an admirable flow across the whole album.

Big Echo won't change the direction of modern music but it's such an easy, pleasurable listen that it can't fail to enrich whatever environment it's played in. Unreservedly recommended.

Mark The Hard Earth is a solid enough album but perhaps not the masterpiece that Drever fans were expecting. The man seems incapable of recording a duff track, but there are just a few moments on this album where he seems to take the easy route.

Rather then shy away behind tricksy, overtly difficult melodies or instrumentation, Little Boots has created a pop record in the truest sense of the word; not only does it fizz by in no time at all, it also doesn't alienate or discriminate.

The band's experimental side (the side that made them good) has suffered, as if "Wires" was the new blueprint on how to write successful songs.