On record it's just a little flat because it's all about energy and despite occasional flourishes, the songs are a bit underwhelming.

This is a fairly straightforward rock record, to some degree, and its simplicity takes away from those moments in which Hukkelberg thrives.

But for all its shortcomings, Bricolage is at least well intentioned and definitely well executed--frenetic, tightly instrumented, and performed with aplomb.

Once again produced by Stephen Street, Coxon has created a work full of guileless charm with a deceptive simplicity that masks some intricate musicianship, while its English pastoral ambience is interleaved with some more exotic influences.

On first listen it feels like the musical equivalent of doodling a massive cock-and-balls on a Rembrandt, but eventually this reveals itself as the first moment of compositional brilliance on an album packed full of them.

As the vocals get filthier, the beats get glitchier and it still consistently exudes class.

There is a clarity of musical and lyrical vision here that is rarely found in modern music.

Minor criticisms aside, however, Outer South is an enjoyable, relaxed album that contains some of Oberst's best work.

Even if the strut is more tentative and the recollections come with a twinge of regret, Cause I Sez So is certainly one for the ages.

Entertainment, though, sounds tame by anyone's standards; and by eschewing their seedy, sweaty origins in favour of clean-cut pop, they've dumped those elements of their act which made them unique in the first place.

If there's a more surprising album this year, we'll be, er, um, surprised; Primary Colours is one of the best albums of 2009 so far.

When you think of Islam's best music, you think of his talent for direct communication, often with just a guitar to help him out--and those are the moments where Roadsinger comes alive.

Wooden Arms, on the other hand, bears the sound of something far more collaborative and just that little bit more complete. Our refound love for musical vanguards should therefore also extend to Patrick Watson.

Let's hope they carry on with that form of expression, as Replica Sun Machine has created an early blast of summer sunshine--playful, majestic, reflective and content, all in the same record.

'Autumn Hill' is one of several tracks that will doubtless find their way onto soundtracks (Hopkins's main source of revenue), but Insides deserves to be heard as a unique and complete work of art in its own right.

Wall Of Arms is an expansive, confident second album that takes The Maccabees from indie also-rans to genuine contenders.

We're not reviewing the single, rather the accompanying album, which after all that promise is something of a minor let down.

Listening to the album as a whole, it's satisfyingly compact, a neatly produced record with stand-out tracks and growers.

Gardot's wistful, breathy voice belies her youth and the unobtrusive competence of this album effortlessly belies the difficulties she has striven to overcome.

So, while you couldn't call this effort beige, it is still clear to see that it is lacking the necessary punch to make it a classic.

Clarke is a genuinely talented songwriter, if rather earnest in his intentions, but in Music for The People he and his mates seem to have lost the plot.

It's obvious that they've spent a while cultivating a specific look, but they seem to have only spent half of that time on the album.

Yes is a super-concentrated hit of everything there is to enjoy about the Pet Shop Boys: danceable yet everyday pop, with irony behind the warmth and warmth behind the irony. One of their best.

It is a pleasure to report that the latest SFA opus is a joy from start to finish.

Once again the theme of emotional cleansing runs through much of the lyrics, though this particular well of inspiration has not yet run dry.

Touchdown is a concise, flab-free 35 minutes of music made by a band, which despite their collective CVs, probably wouldn't be picked out of a line-up.

Art Brut have retained their cheeky nature from earlier albums--the riffs and grooves are tight, and the lyrics are clever.

Despite a couple of forgettable tracks near the end (the bland Tony The Tiger, and the overlong Everything To Nothing) then, this is an album that wears its befuddled, het-up, over-emotional heart on its sleeve, and is all the better, less slick and more interesting for it.