By mixing in a few lighter moments amongst all the dark the band do give the impression that they are on the way to becoming something quite special, but they still need to consider letting in a little more colour and variety into their songs before they can achieve this potential.

Euphoric///Heartbreak is not an easy listen--as I've already alluded to, it's a convincing notion that this four-piece remain incapable of that--and while it is more theatrically anthemic than the first album, it is feels equally credible and sincere.

It may be his own manifesto, but when the music is this striking, it makes you appreciate life more.

The bizarre take on folk, pop and anything else she sees fit is enchanting, joyful and thought provoking; it's everything at once.

The English Riviera is a perfectly listenable album, and it's one that will, quite rightly, be the soundtrack to the summers of more than a few, but the often indistinct music and insipid lyrical content mean that it's doubtful if its charms will last through to the autumn.

Take Care isn't without one or two missteps: the rapid-fire drums and nondescript chanting that open Trembling Hands come off a little too much like a cheap Arcade Fire pastiche, while the overlong closing track Let Me Back In is something of an anti-climax.

Smoke Ring For My Halo might not be for everyone, but it will definitely find a wider audience than anything else in Vile's catalogue.

The result isn't a glorious one, that's not really what The Mountain Goats do, but it is a very strong addition to an already vast canon of work.

Recent Meat Puppet albums have had an ephemeral presence in record shops, particularly in the UK, appearing on a variety of labels and disappearing from the racks not long after release. With music so focused on the transitory nature of things, it seems strangely appropriate.

Here Before questions its existence as a new chapter for the band while content to see it closed, mentions of transition and introspection at the core of their story. What you can take from it is that its protagonists are aging gracefully and that, if this is their last hurrah, The Feelies are going out strong.

Dancer Equired trounces for thirty minutes in the same formulaic way as before: one-note exuberance, monotone instrumentation, and washed out pop hooks. Granted, it features some of their strongest songs to date, but it's not enough to salvage the exhaustive, pouring reverberation.

The occasional highlight isn't enough to make up for the cloth-eared versions of timeless songs found elsewhere on the record, or to cover up for the fact that See My Friends is a mostly soulless, and an entirely pointless album.

As it is, we have a definite return to consistency, if not form, and a Paul Simon as simultaneously hermetic and engaged as only he can be.

Whether you will enjoy this ultimately depends on whether you're more of a rocker or a dancer - indeed, some people much preferred the mellower sound of their last record - but there's little denying that this album misses a lot of the urgency and sheer emotional energy of the band's first two LPs.

In Love With Oblivion may only display grey intonations on first impression, but multiple spins begin to unfurl its ghoulish sense of atmosphere.

The record stands as the most shocking thing the Odd Future collective has put out to date: a R&B record with crossover potential without sacrificing soul that creates a complete picture of its author, warts and all.

On A Mission is the sound of the dancefloor being brought to the pop charts.

While still featuring the repetition and reverb that embodies much of Lennox's work, Tomboy is more divisible, and more accessible for a downloaded generation, or listeners looking to simply dabble their toes.

By stripping things back a little, Low have turned in their most confident, consistent record to date (admittedly this might have something to do with the fact that, running to only ten tracks, C'mon is also their shortest), and even, in places, sound like they're actually enjoying themselves.

Many of the songs here are too over-burdened by the minutiae of lives half lived to be transcendent, perpetually on the verge of something greater, yet too often falling just short of it. However, as with life, there are enough small moments of insight and beauty to make it worthwhile.

What resulted is ultimately an album of destructive beauty. Elegance married with sonic destruction!

Port Entropy finds Tokumaru-san at his most confident, but without the apprehensiveness apparent in the past albums, the tracks seem two-dimensional.

It's the type of song the Foo Fighters wrote knowing their nineties fans would relish. Still, this is as far removed from the Alternative Nation as you can get.

They work best when under the restraints of a three-minute pop song, resolute to achieving guitar resonance in a compact framework.

Callahan continues to be a nature's poet, painting his imagery with the most carefully detailed observations of the everyday.

Noah And The Whale would have done better to focus on the more organic sound they became quite good at than become just another forgettable crossover act.

F.A.M.E. is a vile, despicable album that doesn't deserve to be supported in any way, shape or form. Its very existence is a frightening indictment of our times, in terms of our attitudes to music, women and the cult of celebrity.

Femme Fatale equips Britney with material which is strong enough to enable the original all-American Pop Princess to hold her own in such an overcrowded context.

Blood Pressures is a compelling forty minutes, and by the time we reach the closer, Pots and Pans, with a slider and twelve bar riffs to accompany its sultry, resonant admissions, you can barely imagine them any other way.

It is that sense of self that prevails over the pop sheen of Rolling Papers and makes it worth more than a passing listen.

Several Shades of Why is plaintive and embryonic to the point of breaking down barriers, musically and personally. It's as if the meat has been torn off the bone leaving us with the carcass. And as carcasses go, this one is mighty pretty.

In all this album won't be world changing. The Vaccines are not "the saviours of British rock and roll" but What Did You... doesn't need to be. Instead it's inviting and well observed more than anything, a triumph typified by Post Break-Up Sex--a sublime sketch of that insensitively cute idiom, all guilt-ridden and relatable.

Vices & Virtues bucks that somewhat healthy trend in entirely the wrong manner, and represents exactly the kind of the uninspired drudgery of Americana indie rock that has emerged in the wake of the likes of My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy.

Overall the band carries off a convincing sense of menace and rocks hard at the same time. It may not be what fans of the original Faust would expect but it's satisfying in a different way, while still maintaining the arch sensibility that made them legendary if not exactly famous.

While a fairly brisk listen, the album does start to drag in its second half. Not that the later songs are particularly weak, but the only thing that really marks them out from those in the first is that they're a bit quieter.

As a bite-sized musical excursion, the stylish electro house of Ditto's solo debut is likely to leave many disco doyens wanting more.

While it may not attain the dizzy heights of I'm New Here, Smith's deftness ensures that We're New Here is far more than just a vanity project

At its worst, Go-Go Boots comes off sounding like Lynyrd Skynyrd. At its best, it stands as a testament to the unparalleled songwriting of Cooley and Hood and as a reminder of just how special this band can be.

There is real sorrow and feeling amongst all the fun and the record will hopefully see Hunx gain some of the attention that is way over due.

Considering the nine other songs on this album mix lazy production with unfocused rapping, The Return of Mr. Zone Six is a largely forgettable album.

Common problems and half-assed moneymaker tracks aside, Shaolin vs. Wu-Tang serves as another monument to the effortless style and cool of Rae, and establishes the Chef as the marquee member of the Clan.

Violet Cries is the kind of album that will find a niche audience who will it defend fiercely. Broader appeal is unlikely for songs that seem so blurred around the edges and on the point of evaporating.

Space Is Only Noise might occasionally overstay its welcome, but it's mostly an intriguing, excellent listen from a very promising young producer.

There is not a single dud track on No Color, and even if The Dodos haven't attempted anything they didn't try before, it certainly plays well to their strengths.

An indie-release album that shines under lower stakes without sacrificing Monch's complexities or intelligence.

These delicate people really know how to solidify a pretty picture, especially when they offset their lovin' spoonful of virtue with some muffled resonance. This time around, the Kings are downright cheating instead of tirelessly studying to make the grade.

Once you press play on this wonderful record, Josh T. Pearson will take you with him. It might be painful, but you will savour every tear and be thankful for the bruises. Be greatful for this dark pariah.

In the midst of all the new-fangled electricity that positions Mi Ami for creative growth, there is a spiritedness and innovation to their past output that is missing with this new device.

She's still one to watch, but the hype which preceded the release of Who You Are promised much more than what has been delivered.

This brief collection of tracks shows growth and expansion whilst maintaining the addictive pop elements and retro recording style that made us fall in love with I Will Be.

The Strokes have managed to culture a great sense of the schizophrenic on Angles, mapping polar tones in tandem to produce a record that feels both confused and entirely deliberate.

Tell Me is an impressive work. Mayfield shines as she enters new territory in her musical composition and her lyricism.

Passive Me, Aggressive You is undoubtedly a pop album, and an impressive one at that. There's a nice blend of intensity and honesty here, which TH&F will do well to maintain in their future career.

There's very little to complain about in Constant Future, apart from the fact that it's no great step forward from their previous material.

They have made a marked improvement from their 2009 EP, sounding more assured and confident. Every song is played with enthusiasm, and it makes for a blissful, hazy experience.

Most of all, I'd like to list Angels Of Darkness, Demons Of Light: 1 amongst the ever-expanding and illustrious list of rock n' roll's most important albums.

Since The Seldom Seen Kid's release it seems everyone and everyone's mum are now fans of the band. Though Build A Rocket Boys! is a strong album, it never quite matches the rampant grace of that record and in many ways caters to their more tested demographic.

While it shares many similarities with the quieter side of their first record, it never quite achieves the same heart-rending beauty we know they're capable of.

It may not be the most unique and memorable of albums, but there's a lot in Boys and Diamonds to like; great thumping melodies, intriguingly mad vocals and moments of beauty (particularly the delicate drumming that closes the album) and shows that Rainbow Arabia are a band that have the potential to be far more interesting than their mundane origins would suggest.

The album clearly bounces back and forth between those moments of emotional annihilation and utter hope and optimism. But more than that, with those tracks book-ending the effort, the record's most basic motif is clear: even as lords of rock, the men of R.E.M. still struggle daily with their own issues and the standards of the world, but welcome the battle with ever-glowing smiles.

Lasers is an expressive album, more so than his previous records.

As much as The Deep Field concerns itself with Joan Wasser's considerable emotional needs, this is not a self-absorbed record. It's a big, open-hearted statement on the best way love in a world where "good living requires smiling at strangers."

I'm going to give this bonus points for the admirable trait of messing with our heads and not apologizing for it. But in the end, the quirky ideas are found lacking and sheer bizarreness only gets you so far.

Be it through incremental shifts and changes or grinding genres together to hear what comes out, Wye Oak know their influences in and out and work skillfully to blend them or highlight their differences as the song calls for it.

Their live performances are largely improvised around one riff per song, which could make for an interesting show--but on this record, it gets old fast.

Fading Parade may be trodden down, and it does meander on too much diffidence to make it readily distinguishable. It is also a pleasant lull, prepped with a rich gamut of melodic rewards.

Asleep on the Floodplain is more than an acoustic showcase.

Pyramid of the Sun certainly isn't an utterly bad album--it's cohesive enough, and it can be really engaging. At the very least, it serves as a heartfelt tribute to the band's late drummer.

Millionyoung refrains from too many of the bombastic tendencies of electronic music as a result, and we're left with something quite listenable.

Lykke Li holds to her regal aesthetic and simple drum and bass lines doggedly; whether stripped down or ramped up she has a well crafted, appealingly consistent sound, and it's what she puts over this that completes it.

Different Gear, Still Speeding could be a good album if they just scaled things down a bit.

The King of Limbs is very much a rhythm-driven album; skittering, off-kilter beats underpin the majority of the songs on show.

100 Lovers has a fair few highlights, but as a whole it's merely another example of Devotchka still not managing to successfully capture the exuberance of their live show on record.

It's exciting in its pacing, invigorated in its writing, and illustrious in its instrumentation. It's not mad - nor, indeed, prairie-mad - to think that this is an early contender for album of the year lists.

It's filled with memorable moments, digital pieces that are essential towards captivating very human moments without battering with the greater scope of things. It all makes this all-encompassing memory trip worth remembering.

There's not a lot fundamentally wrong with The People's Key; it's just that we know Bright Eyes can do better.

Shapeshifting isn't just something from which to go forward; it's an absolute success in everything it tries. I only wish Young Galaxy had pushed a bit more, because there's no doubt that this could have been so much more.

Although at it's best The Gathering is an immersive throwback to a bygone age, considering there are already many records that do this sort of thing much more consistently, it's difficult to recommend.

It's a nicely balanced record: It's not as if the 'old' Asobi Seksu has disappeared and been replaced with a slightly more cheerful android version of the band--but there's a definite shift here.

While rallying for a new cycle of nostalgia, Yuck's debut ends with beautifully rendered confirmation that they mean to do more than simply appease the Alterna-boomers: They're asking for attention, so lend them an ear.

Chaz Bundick and Toro Y Moi have with Underneath The Pine taken a step back from the Chillwave label, and a very positive step forward.

Cut Copy are back, and back with enough danceable synth-pop to flatten the sensitive Bombay Bicycle Club member in all of us - but only just enough.

James Blake is an absolute treat for the ears.

In an indie-rock landscape where so many bands climb to eminence on the shoulders of pseudo-academic attention-seeking, a shrug and a good pulse can go a long way.

Gutter Rainbows instead hovers between a mainstream and an indie vibe, embracing neither and potentially isolating both audiences.

Rolling Blackouts is a Technicolor, kaleidoscopic riot of a record but, put in context, it can't fail to be tinged with a hint of disappointment. There's a real risk that The Go! Team may have painted themselves into a corner (albeit with various shades of eye-wateringly luminous paint); it will be intriguing to see where they go from here.

Gang of Four's latest is a consistently interesting and passionate record that illustrates their continuing relevance. What more could you reasonably ask for?

While flawed, this is still a very worthy record; a majestic realization of the promise shown by Chapel Club over the past two years and one equally suggestive of the what may be to come.

Each turn the album takes is a good one: the swaying Excerpts reinforces the scope of the music, the vinyl-affected Imprints throws some atmosphere into the approach, and, really, the whole of the album makes for an unrivaled listening experience.

So, this may be Sic Alps' best album to date.

This album simply lacks the impact that Vanderslice's trademark sound usually packs in abundance. The bare bones of his usually excellent songwriting are there, but it's more constrained by the orchestration than set free.

Akron Family II: The Cosmic Birth and Journey of Shinju TNT isn't a big departure in that respect, but it is a more polished affair than any of their previous attempts: most of the songs seem to follow a more established structure than the wayward jams of old.

Let England Shake may be Harvey's less vainglorious manifestation, but it is also her most intoxicating. Rather than exposing a personal voice, she exercises her political inquietudes with studied intellectualism.

For sheer instant appeal, the winner has to be Cyberspace and Reds, which is clearly one of the most bizarre, absurd, and exhilarating records dropped in 2011, while Computers and Blues requires a great deal of thought and introspection before it can be truly valued.

Hardcore... may be their most consistent album for a while but any of its tracks would have fitted perfectly on its predecessors Mr Beast or The Hawk is Howling.

In the Cool of the Day is far from perfect, though. Moore's smooth vocal delivery suits the more minimal productions well, but it can become cloying when the backing track is too upbeat, such as on the irritating Up Above My Head.

Sonic Youth have captured that exploration perfectly and transformed it into a piece of work that not only embodies the various degrees of emotions and thoughts we all experience, but it creates new ones whilst doing so, through it's exploratory and deeply affecting methods.

The welsh trio have taken their time to reach this point, but with The Big Roar they have taken their opportunity with great style, producing what I think is a mature, clever and exceptionally listenable record from start to finish--and that's a mighty thing.