Although not as immediate as his collaborators’ work, his introversion pulls you into his unique soundscape.

A very weird album, but a very intriguing one too.

It’s unconventional but at the same time totally pop--a tricky balancing act Lidell just about pulls off.

A more diverse and calculated album than a usual Hey Colossus offering, and all the better for it.

Fundamentally, 'The Sword Of God' is a record that fumbles desperately at the door of greatness but can't quite get the key to fit. It tries hard, it's got some excellent songs on it, but it's just slightly too smarmy for its own good.

Sparkling synth melodies abound on ‘Time Enough’ and ‘Shapes And Patterns’, with only the meandering Pink Floyd indulgence ‘Vapour Trails’ dragging the journey down.

The thing that's not missing here is songs. [18 Jun 2005]

The album is over-long, too, and a few songs less would have made it a leaner, meaner, more KAPOW-ing beast. All that said, when Jwl and Shunda’s flabbergasting spit is on form, it’s as compelling as a new, untired voice in rap always is.

Jack Penate has made a record that’s light on its feet, has glamour bordering on sex appeal and that doesn’t make you wish a fatwa upon its author.

If the pop dreams get slightly tarnished by the graffiti put-downs of 'Not Big' (her ex has a 'size problem') and 'Alfie' (her brother smokes too much dope) then that's not too worrying. With a personality this size, this isn't the last time you'll be hearing from her.

No Age will never be legit superstars, but they have a keen and loyal fanbase, something cherishable in a year likely to be paradoxically remembered for forgettable chancers.

A rather good second album that contains some of the brightest and jolliest music you'll have heard [for a long time].

If there's a clear problem with the album, it lies in the sugar-coated crystalline sheen that surrounds everything.

Dead-eyed, malevolent and alluring. [9 Oct 2004, p.57]

If you like loud choruses, ceaseless energy and the bug-eyed extremities of crunk, look no further. [15 Jan 2005, p.43]

You have to wade through a lot of plaid-shirted, porch-rocking psychedelia before you get there. The patient pilgrim, though, can look forward to unearthing the widescreen Laurel Canyon-birthed wonder of 'Your Protectors' after one or two plays.

It’s mid-album epic ‘Push It’ that best showcases their dexterity, an eerie bass-drum kick blending with a beautiful crescendo of soaring violin strings and piano keys.

More magpies than nightingales across these 13 tracks, they stitch up a glorious grab-bag of modern psych.

There's occasional crimes of flannel-wet schmaltz but mostly Smart is like an esoteric, London-based Dam-Funk with a fondness for chemically enhanced raving.

Overloaded with laugh-out-loud lyrical gobbets, intelligent production and tunes that straddle commerciality and the street. [28 Jan 2006, p.34]

Big tunes welded to even bigger guitars.

This is a flawed, sometimes absurd, but always intriguing album that repeatedly approaches being something special.

"Cool Slut" is burdened by the idea that the need to fight gender inequality still exists in 2015. Occasionally though, they find relief.

Here is another dry collection of sullen machine drones and subtle tonal manipulation; signals to the outside world explaining that all is well in Pan Sonic's overpoweringly masculine universe.

Reasserts what's great about her. [2 Oct 2004, p.64]

[It] signpost[s] a possible future for emo. [29 Apr 2006, p.39]

It’s a bit TEED on a beach, or SBTRKT with mask exchanged for a tasteful side-parting.

Even if there's still a sneaking suspicion Angelakos used up his very best tunes on 2008 debut EP 'Chunk Of Change', this dewy-eyed record sweeps you up in its joie de vivre all the same.

Waves of unidentifiable noise, dulcet vibraphone pulses and singer/guitarist Jonsi's ethereal singing (more like some ghostly instrument than any conventional vocal, borne out by Jonsi's fictional 'language', Hopelandish, which he often sings in) mesh to create an elegant, grand music that's equally ambient and epic.

At six tracks it’s a slight but solid return.

Not hip-hop in its most conventional form then, but a mutant version drenched in, and suffused with, the same rebellious spirit. An organic meta-hip-hop, if you will, that hearkens back to Gill Scott Heron's innovation and looks forward as well.

Bon Iver is the sound of a man making peace with the world, saxophones and all.

Electronic, if not exactly rejuvenated, are rewired, recharged and, really quite good again.

There's undoubtedly something there with Frankie--those effortless, skippy choruses aren't as easy to do as they seem. But he and his Heartstrings haven't quite found their true north yet.

Ultimately, however, it’s hard not to notice that the production outshines the delivery.

Spins a web of eerie jazz-junglist percussion. [22 Jan 2005, p.51]

Emotion is packed with frighteningly relatable songs about love, longing and heartbreak.

Within this impressive, ambitious, often stupid whole, are moments of melthing human beauty. [29 Feb 2005, p.65]

Time has proved Morrissey to be just as powerful and alluring a performer at 45 as he was at 23. [2 Apr 2005, p.49]

A gently addictive and well-balanced offering.

Like a good new party drug, Lesser Evil finds a sweet spot more often than not if you let it.

A little more emotional chaos, a dash of the dark stuff, might make such avuncular campfire grooves more worthy of our time and money.

There's a more commercial edge to the beats, as well as a subversive edge you'd expect from an MC who's cribbed from Eddie Murphy routines.

To The Happy Few might be a fairly transparent attempt to relive Medicine’s salad days, but there are many worse sources they could mine for inspiration.

It's a hardcore record from a top-shelf kind of a guy, but the work of a unique mind.

Rollickingly great fun to listen to. [4 Mar 2006, p.31]

An overly soft mid-section ('Center Your Love', 'Vizion') reveals that chillout-esque pleasantness isn't Stewart's forte, but that's not to say this album's only good when the whipcrack snare madness takes hold.

'Grinderman' is an almost defiantly edgy record.

Aphrodite is her most unified work in ages.

St Jude is conclusive proof they have far more interesting things to say when they let the tunes do the talking.

Each song is so powerful and crafted you can’t help but buy into whatever it is Ava Luna are trying to sell you.

She sounds like she’s having a bathroom hairbrush-singing party to which we’re all invited. These are sweet sweet fantasies, baby.

Eminem's urgent radio hit 'Lose Yourself', you already know. It's excellent.... The two other new Eminem tracks '8 Mile' and 'Rabbit Run' are on the money, too, the latter being the shortest, shoutiest thing he's ever done. Elsewhere, things get more patchy.

The emotions might not be quite as strong on this record but Sea Of Bees still manages to wrap you up in her words.

All in all, a weird brew, set to confound anyone who likes their music to fit neatly in a box.

It’s probably just a little too icy and detached to blow up in the manner of The Weeknd, Jessie Ware or similar indie R&B success stories, but Pull My Hair Back's pop sensibility renders it the most obviously accessible thing Hyperdub have released for a while.

The important thing is, the tried-and-tested and the "new" mix fairly well.

This beatific bpmfest amps expectation giddily high for the Boston five-piece’s debut proper, and really is the gift that keeps on giving.

This record isn’t a fifth as clever as it thinks it is. It’s glorious in a dozen other ways, though.

Exploratory, intense and without a kickflip or kingskin in sight.

The record is made up of four nine-minute-plus epics that waft into view, all dub basslines, ambient synth washes and well-chosen samples. The exception to such rambling--and standout moment--is the title track.

Bitter Rivals is their toughest and most focused work yet. It’s also their poppiest, which is very much a good thing.

A mid-section of orchestral Bacharach lounge pop, hints of Gorillaz afro-hop on ‘Allweddellau Allweddol’, the glitchy gospel of ‘The Swamp’ and some glacial grandeur on ‘Walk Into The Wilderness’ and 'Year Of The Dog' bring a sense of nobility and glory to the tale of this tribe-hunting madman.

Ultimately, 'Killing Puritans' is well-crafted and commendably diverse, but somewhat joyless and cold. It aspires to social significance without having much serious to say, just as its creator casts himself as a taboo-trashing auteur rather than accept his true status as a skilled artisan in the commercial dance field.

Recorded in a cave near Oslo, natch, this gloriously dark second album begins with the dystopia of ‘Ayisha Abyss.’

It’s no Pinkerton, but Weezer, finally, are back on track.

We worry on your {Marnie's] behalf about carpal tunnel syndrome, in fact. Until then, permit us to bug out to the controlled chaos.

Like all covers albums, the temptation to dig out the originals is not far away, but there’s enough electricity pulsing around these versions to not only justify a charitable contribution but also make it a worthy addition to your record collection.

Grey Oceans is CocoRosie's most beautiful and, more importantly, least bloody irritating record to date.

Marvellous. [5 Nov 2005, p.45]

Yes, it's solid rock but what they might lack in glamour (no back up dancers here, dude), they make up for in sheer sincerity.

Eminem’s cameo on ‘Medicine Man’ is technically superb, but the content somehow comes over both hateful and boring.... But it's hard to deny Compton is brilliantly constructed, a masterclass in 21st century hip-hop.

It is, shudder to think, Nine Inch Nails' pop album. Or, at least, Reznor is returning to the more song-orientated territory of 'Pretty Hate Machine'. [23 Apr 2005, p.49]

This Is Christmas is effectively hate-proof, loved-up, entertaining stuff that strikes just the right balance of humour and heart-tugging.

A far more accomplished work than anyone suspected this bunch of deadbeats capable of.

A dollop of deliberately sloppy post-grad college rock. [23 Apr 2005, p.51]

It can be dour but that just makes the moments of light, such as the galloping, violin-augmented 'Golden Age', gleam all the brighter.

As is often the case when a rarefied musician enjoys themself too much though, this is a wildly self-indulgent release; 16-tracks which veer between excellent and average.

Sounds like a brilliant album by a lesser band. [5 Jun 2004, p.57]

Largely, though, Nash sounds just like herself, and that's exactly when she shines most brightly.

HITNRUN Phase One isn’t one of Prince’s best albums. But neither is it his worst. He hasn’t lost it. He’s just resting it.

Busy and Melissa have made a record that shimmers with possibilities, mapping out an alien territory that’s eerily inviting. Now it’s time to build on it.

It has taken Brooklyn's Vivian Girls three albums to expand their musicality beyond the (unquestionably ace, but repetitive) garage racket that characterised their last two.

'The Red Thread' is a frequently beautiful record, as dark and twisted and funny as anything the band have ever produced.

While being as well-crafted, catchy and dynamic as the first one, it leaves you feeling distinctly underwhelmed, as if the band had simply reprogrammed the Pro-Tools machine that they'd made the first album on and changed the lyrics and speed of the songs a bit.

It's all strung together with punk-drunk pace and some properly good melodies. This is the real deal.

The juxtaposition of the melancholic with the mellifluous melds majestically atop delicate lap steel, brushed drums and double bass on this country tearjerker.

With her distressed, Southern-inflected vocals and guitar/piano accompaniments tolling like perpetual church bells, Cat Power brings these songs successfully into her own, bleak domain.

You're unlikely to play this record at your next soirée but the breadth and ambition is to be applauded.

If you get a kick out of glorious, ragged old rock'n'roll, then you'll consider it essential.

As an introduction to the dark sounds coming out of Scandinavia right now there's nothing better.

Right up to the cover of Mud’s ‘Lonely This Christmas’ done as though it’s East 17’s ‘Stay Another Day’, this is a Christmas riot.

There are moments on indie folksters Why?’s fourth album that propel you into a state of emotional bliss.... [But] Eskimo Snow isn’t immune from the odd blooper, however.

The 14 tracks--almost entirely instrumental--play out as loose sketches of piano, violin and electronics, making for an ultra-sparse, carefully considered album.

Overall, it’s a brash, shiny, confident record, careering along on a second wind, or as one jaunty number puts it, “the return of inspiration.”

It could have been so easy for an album that's strung out on the tension between artist as paid-up perma-kid and responsible grown-up to be self-indulgent and, worse still, boring. Instead it's cathartic.

He calls love and life as it really is: occasionally sweet, rarely trouble-free and often so suicidally routine we could all become the man he speaks of on 'Ballad Of The Bastard'.

‘Your Favorite Toy’ is a few more tracks of that depth away from being the most vital Foo Fighters record since 1997’s ‘The Colour and the Shape’. For now, at least, they have remembered that no-frills punk, played fast and loud, suits them much better than middle-of-the-road dad-rock.