It’s at its best when it mixes Badu-style soul vocals and booming apocalypse bass ('The Road', 'At Night'), but there’s evidence of a lighter side in the sort of jazzy tribal stompers that Gilles Peterson would approve of (‘Ra_Light’, ‘Near The End’).

A debut offering of preposterously ace swoon-pop. [6 Aug 2005, p.56]

Despite the fluid interplay of the four MCs and J5's evolving musicality, 'Quality Control' lacks the singalong pop immediacy of 'Jurassic 5'.... Quality then. But it's not the old-skool classic we'd hoped for.

Sounds as if it was recorded in a hermetically sealed ballroom by a group of misanthropic, jazz-obsessed weird-beards.

Easily as good as the last Chemicals album and often snapping at the heels of Daft Punk's 'Discovery', 'Machine Says Yes' is as broad in its retro reference as it is happy to revel in the futuristic.

Harcourt might err too far towards gentle whimsy for rock fundamentalists, but otherwise 'From Every Sphere' is a rich treasure trove of sun-kissed grace and summery magic.

It's the sound of people having fun. [4 Dec 2004, p.55]

A fine evolution.

Whether it's 'Tension Remains'' collision of religious chorale and space-age pulse or the jazz-soul cyberpunk of 'Never Defeated', the result is always original.

‘iiiii’ floats up into the clouds – often pairing sparse plunks of piano with haunting choral vocals and snippets of ethereal sound design. Of all ‘Kick’s instalments, this one is the most meandering, focused on conjuring up an atmosphere, and living within it.

While it’s a step down from both "VV" and his Danger Mouse work, it at least might be his definitively stoned record.

Ridiculously ambitious--and often plain ridiculous--Tasmania dances its way to impending doom.

Recounting the happier memories of her relationship often results in the album’s lightest moments: it’s here where synths soar and possibilities seem endless. Elsewhere, Scott employs some of her most evocative lyrics yet.

This Brooklyn band, completed by Dale Eisinger on drums and electronics, strike a thrilling balance between extreme industrial sound and remarkable artistry.

Ex Hex’s sound is so distinctive that it’s also very tough to escape, but luckily Mary Timony, Betsy Wright and Laura Harris avoid stumbling into the trap of picking up where they left off. As it happens, It’s Real is a bundle of collaborative fun instead.

Taken as a full album in a single sitting, the drum-heavy tribal starkness of it all could be a little overwhelming; unrelenting, even; but the tracklist is just crying out to be dismembered and spread across your playlists like blood-spattering across a crisp white wall.

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.

It’s the sound of a band bolstering their already formidable palette. Free from the shackles of Reznor’s self-imposed trilogy of releases, the masters of melancholy sound rejuvenated, and ready for another 30-plus years as kings of the musical underworld.

This collection of (mostly) new songs stands strong on its own. The record is tighter yet bolder, sexier yet sadder, as icy, electropop siren Kylie once again leaves it all on the dancefloor.

Warpaint's is a different darkness, not delighting in splendour or show, but in deftly exploring a bleak internal, romantically bereft landscape.

Things do pick up with messy, closing tracks ‘Self-Immolate’ and ‘Hell’, but these are proficient rather than remarkable moments. Ultimately, it’s not enough to prevent ‘Infest The Rats’ Nest’ from feeling like a case of “look what we can do!” rather than a record fully realised.

While homegrown folkies such as Laura Marling are happy to lose themselves in twanging bluegrass and Americana, it’s refreshing to hear a Brit ploughing up our own verdant folk history. Scot troubadour Alasdair Roberts does just that.

Clocking in at a chiselled 28 minutes, ‘Don’t Tap The Glass’ is primarily anchored by disco-flavoured raps and Kangol-clad ’80s hip-hop. ‘Stop Playing With Me’ digs up, dusts off and digitises some Whodini and Run DMC-style drums to great effect

A disorientatingly great mess of free-jazz, space-rock and voodoo swamp music. [10 Dec 2005, p.37]

Part Brooklyn-punk, part folk-troubadour, ‘The Baby’ marks the coming-of-age of an intriguing songwriter, who isn’t afraid to take on the anxieties and uncertainties that keep you awake in the small hours.

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

The singer's curious persona is mirrored by the musical pyrotechnics, Queen meets Rage Against The Machine in a metal production of Godspell!, an inventiveness and fury that makes their MTV contemporaries look as dynamic as lard models of Linkin Park.

Untrustworthy, confused, touching and idiotically ambitious; hard work that, undoubtedly, repays the effort.