‘The Ballad of Dood & Juanita’ is not just a faithful, fun celebration of a traditional sound, but that of a traditional form, too.

An oddball pleasure.

On an album that rarely shakes off its shroud of unease, Suuns paint a pretty bleak picture of all our tomorrows, but their own dazzling Futur looks assured.

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.

The reality is Free Energy sound like ’90s rock berks Terrorvision. It’s not all woe--‘Bad Stuff’ is like an FM rock Pavement--but it makes us worry that Murphy might be losing his edge.

A fine record from an ever-impressive band.

A debut that will endure.

Clearly, still in love.

We know what we’re getting from here: effervescent pop-punk smashes with a political edge. The lyrics are more personal here than on previous Sløtface albums, as Shea dissects her experiences growing up in Norway with American parents.

Album number three from Just Mustard is a more three-dimensional, glorious noise – reaching for euphoria while capturing the rollercoaster of comedowns and the spaces in between; driving melody through the malaise on a psych-driven neon bullet train.

To be completely honest, it's no revelation – at times the music feels incomplete, like a lonesome Portner is missing his bros – but it's played out beautifully, sunny in disposition and just a little wild around the edge.

It’ll be under your skin in no time.

iii is probably a couple of tracks too long, but Banks has created another supremely intriguing musical world filled with ear-snagging lyrics and quirky production flourishes: the lone dog-bark sound effect before the final chorus of ‘Gimme’ is a classic Banks touch. It’s difficult to avoid the conclusion “that bitch” is a pretty apt description for her after all.

What's most pronounced is the subtlety of it all, the tastefulness, the lack of bombast and histrionics.

A raw blast of electric power that serves as a career coda, of sorts.

'Trust' is a reaffirmation of far more than a vow of silence: it's a commitment to beauty that precious few modern bands capture.

An authentic graininess permeates In Camera, like you're listening to the whole thing in sepia-tone - from the coy country call-and-response of 'Come to View (Song For Neil Young)', which could have soundtracked a Jane Fonda film, to the lolloping 'Afterglow', and tambourining of 'Lion's Mouth'. Lush.

‘Welcome 2 America’ is an album that speaks to today’s problems and demands to be heard.

caroline’s masterpiece might be yet to come, but this formative debut album opens up a world of possibilities.

Confidence is channelled in compelling directions, as The Chats come for everyone and anyone trying to ruin the feel-good party vibes. Poking fun at ticket inspectors, beach racists and boy racers, this record finds them fighting jobsworths and ignorance with laughter.

At their best the Young Knives can write as good a pop song as anyone in the country, but this is a disappointing second effort ironically weighed down by the English eccentricities that once helped them stand out from the pack.

‘Afterglow’ might be ‘Eusexua’ offcuts, but FKA Twigs’ B-sides are so good they can outrank entire discographies. Does it live up to the lofty marketing of its predecessor? Perhaps not. But it still proves that Twigs is one of the most prolific and original alt-pop icons of our times.

Basically, the album's a mess of melody, noise, stupidity, screaming and big choruses that does its bit for the all-important Campaign Against Intellectualism In Rock. Fun.

This is just one long squelchy fart of a soundscape that Reznor himself admits is probably too long. It's certainly too unremitting.

A masterclass in why Galaxie were such a great band. [18 Feb 2006, p.36]

The entire thing is an absolute, unerring joy.

It doesn’t sound like the work of a band who might inspire legions of fans (among them, apparently, Kristen Stewart) to get tattooed with their logo, but these world-weary yet radio-friendly ballads imply the band might achieve longevity after all. Three chords and the truth never gets old, and ‘Marigold’ vividly paints the knottiness of adulthood.

Blips aside, ‘Rare’ is a beautifully confident return from one of pop’s most underrated stars, and a quietly defiant wrestling back of the narrative surrounding her.