Wire have bizarrely remained a cult concern. This ought to change with the release of their 12th record, 11 clever tracks of unrelenting and witty pop.

‘Use Me’ is the sound of an artist flexing her muscles, making sense of and peace with her past and, most importantly, embracing a new future.

Wooden Shjips obviously aren’t interested in the same progressive spirit as the likes of fellow travellers Oneida but they’re still damn effective at what they do.

It's still wordier than a second-hand bookshop and the screwy mental tics remain. But it's also one of the most heart-lassoing '70s radio-pop records since the death of flares, its psychedelic oddness leavened with big gnarly hooks, the emotional thwack of a shattered heart and intimate and bloodied narratives.

It's a lot to take in, sure, but each listen is as fresh as the first.

'Insignificance' lays down an awesome challenge to other guitar records - it contains more great ideas than most bands have in their entire career. It's the first unequivocal classic album of the new year.

The 15 impressively arranged tracks on ‘Tracey Denim’ will only bolster Bar Italia’s discography to date, ushering them, whether they like it or not, even further into the spotlight.

At times, ‘Crash’ eases off the throttle slightly – the interpolation of ‘Show Me Love’ on ‘Used to Know Me’ is infectious, if slightly too straightforward, while smouldering ballads ‘Move Me’ and ‘Every Rule’ could do with more of the skewed hints of unfamiliarity found in spades elsewhere. These are minor gripes, though, and by the time those synthesised strings whirr into life on the jagged pop-funk track ‘Baby’ they’re easy enough to overlook.

If the best country music has always been about storytelling, then on ‘Cruel Country’ Wilco are delivering it in its purest form.

Compelling from its first note to its very last, the record presents a band who, yes, are still in their infancy, but clearly know who they are and what that sounds like.

The Raveonettes are super-cool Scandinavian noise-rockers and they’ve shored Lust Lust Lust in that turmoil to create their most engrossing album to date.

Star-studded, shimmering, danceable and intimate, ‘A Muse In Her Feelings’ is R&B in its purest form.

This is a Suede record, so there are moments of aching majesty – see the tormented ‘It’s Always The Quiet Ones’, ‘Turn Off Your Brain And Yell’ and the hopelessly devoted ‘What Am I Without You’ (which sees Anderson giving himself to his fans) – but, all in all, ‘Autofiction’ finds the indie greats getting back in the garage to make a racket.

There are moments where the production feels slightly misjudged. .... But ultimately, ‘Virgin’ is a vibrant combination of Lorde’s best qualities, and then some.

'Poker Face,' pretty much the one song 2009 will be remembered for, are included on the original album, this becomes essential for anyone who even remotely likes pop. For the rest of us, it's the moment Gaga cements herself as a real star.

‘Audio Vertigo’ is their best record in years, and one to blow the cobwebs off some sleepy arenas this summer.

Aldred shares Richard Hawley's producer Colin Elliot, but also his gruff, warmhearted authority, and it's a similar hard-won wisdom that makes Herd Runners so moving.

Along with his collaborators (including David Byrne and Damon Albarn), he has neatly stitched a tapestry of musical cultures into a cohesive, convincing whole.

Not to be outdone by US stoner-rock peers Sleep and Earth, who have records out this year, the Dorset satanists have spat out this eighth album.

What's finally made it is an expansive, guest-packed 57 minutes that recall the Southern hip-hop bounce of 2003's 'Speakerboxxx', but with an added twist of maturity.

Belying its also-ran billing, Darkest Before Dawn... is a minor masterpiece of dark, smart, modern hip-hop.

Fact is, though, the best metropolitan records are part gutter reality, part romantic fantasy, and so it goes with Panic Prevention.

At 47 minutes, Long Way Home may seem lengthy for a debut, but it feels cohesive without boxing Låpsley into a limited sound.

Journal For Plague Lovers is an outstanding album in its own right and is not "The Holy Bible." But then again, what is?

Endlessly charming.

The absence of original guitarist Jim Martin is soon overshadowed by just how focused the record is.

An album of impossibly adorable disco - Star Wars "ping p-p-p-ping ping" bits, cheesy synths, George Clinton (!...hmm) workouts... all delivered in a slightly unsettlingly ersatz kitschness, half-hinted ironies, indietastic samples, hip-hop phrasings and The Asian Influence seductive throughout.

The Courteeners have developed the ability to, at points, blow away tribal allegiances with hooks forged from pure indie gold.