For an album that you might think is merely an excuse for a megabucks world tour, it sure does, er, wail.

The LP toes a line between eclecticism and kitchen sink, but the one thing he hasn't chucked in here is a little focus.

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

There are moments when her A-Level Debating Club earnestness gets the better of her, but there's still three quarters of a great album here.

Poignant package-holiday dance, sun-drunk but urgent with passion.

Although it's not quite the perfect pop record 'Video Games' might have led us to wish for, Born To Die still marks the arrival of a fresh--and refreshingly self-aware--sensibility in pop.

All we learn from these wispy solo offerings is that Lemonheads songs are not improved by persistent cassette hiss and background noise.

E Volo Love may seem oddly relaxed at first, but acclimatising is a breeze.

The Loudest Engine punches for psychedelia and falls flat in a puddle of MOR.

Laura Marin and Quinn Luke cram excessive lyrics into songs such as 'Shake', creating stodge instead of sleekness.

The first disc here was made with several different collaborators certainly doesn't lend cohesion.

It's a dream of the psychedelic tropics, a heady explosion of colours, an album that takes what it means to be 'in an indie band' and gives it a good shake.

'Have Some Faith In Magic' sees them unbuttoning those stiff top-collars and delivering some of their finest pop bangers to date.

The '80s revival taken to its spangliest, synthiest, chino-flappiest extreme.... Our flashback to a dead decade has thrown up both guilty pleasures and glistening horrors.

Who'd have thought the best Americana record of the year would come from two Swedish siblings?

For a pair of wannabe pop classicists, Cardinal's cardinal sin is the failure to provide anything approaching a whistleable melody.

Strange Weekend's gauzy dream-pop is almost incapable of provoking anything but love.

Finn certainly takes a paddle – if not quite a dive – into fresh sonic waters.

In general it pays to avoid electronic producers with dreadlocks, but let Sumach 'Gonjasufi' Ecks be your exception.

Musically, it's nowhere near as life-changing as its subject matter, but MacNeil's mortality menagerie make cute enough companions in the void.

This one whips the spliced, spooked melodies and vintage rhythms of Blood into new, distorted shapes that at times recall the dark textures of Prurient's 'Bermuda Drain' or Fever Ray's debut.

It takes a pretty special type of artist to release 11 zip files of music for free, follow that up with three albums within a year and still pique your interest when a new release crosses the doorstep. But such is the way of Wiley.

It's Guided By Voices' finest work since 2001's 'Isolation Drills'

America Give Up is, quite simply, an effortlessly brilliant debut.

Robbie Furze and Milo Cordell's second album isn't done for by a lack of ambition, but rather the imagination required to realise it.

Tribes have roared back fiercer than ever.

A pleasant listen, but it's hardly fresh.

This album is a subtly, sweetly wonderful thing--proof that, sometimes, sonic actions speak louder than words.