Truly, Wild Beasts are those rarest of animals; true, untamed originals.

With ambition and expectation clearly larger than its execution, (K)no(W)here relies too heavily on its “concept” to drive itself, music being its afterthought and, ultimately, its title only communicates its direction.

This is about as musically adventurous as Lou ever got and those who think he could only toss off simplistic three-chord tunes are advised to listen closely. Berlin turned out to be a place well worth revisiting.

Just a Souvenir reveals itself to be a solid record, up there with the best of Squarepusher's work--as any good performer knows, you always leave the audience wanting more.

Skeletal Lamping is the brain dump of a troubled psyche, and you shouldn’t feel too bad if you ultimately don’t get it. I don’t think you’re supposed to.

Saint Dymphna is truly Gang Gang Dance and no-one else and for that they should be applauded; creating and defining your own sound is a challenge these days that many bands prefer to shirk.

The album’s generative “concept” is as strange and incredible as its music.

The music is rich with personality, and strives to establish uniqueness and incomparability.

Frightened Rabbit keep their slight edge with stripped down versions of songs from the aforementioned album, while the necessity of this release remains questionable.

On the new one, the drums still thunder and the space rock vibe is intact, but something is missing--and I’m not sure that something is Ben Curtis.

Despite the fact that Offend Maggie is, in some ways, a “nothing new” addition to Deerhoof’s canon, it’s also one of their best.

This Is It And I Am It And You Are It And So Is That And He Is It And She Is It And It Is It And That Is That, down to its mouthful of a title, is a fearless album, brought to fruition by a desire to push boundaries and explore sound.

In a way, we’re witnessing the rest of the evolution that began on "Son," as Molina experimented with the ways the human voice could be manipulated electronically, as an instrument.

Whatever shortcomings The Chemistry Of Common Life present, and there are very few, Fucked Up cancels them out with some imagination and a refusal to so easily fit into the Mallternative crowd.

It takes the music of Hauschka perhaps into more populist directions, but the experiment and joy still survive.

Those looking for a sombre accompaniment for the wintry evenings ahead could do a hell of a lot worse than pick up this superb record.

Women present a fresh lo-fi landmark that sounds like it was made in your garage before getting packed-up for a Sunday picnic in the park--well fused, lads.

Somehow, the 21 minutes spent with Vivian Girls are innocent and punctuated by brief moments of euphoria that make this debut more than worthwhile.

They haven’t exactly lost their sense of intrigue, it’s just that on Dear Science it all sounds a lot less intriguing.

Acid Tongue is fuller and has more of a ragged, live-band feel than any of Lewis’ previous work.

Ten Kens are hook-savvy, brilliantly subtle at change-ups and they really capture your attention without making your ears bleed.

The Stand Ins is a solid achievement cut from the same charming cloth, even if it doesn’t crisp in quite the same way "The Stage Names" did.

While Living on the Other Side isn’t a particular complex record, I do think it’s one that requires a couple of listens to fully appreciate.

Caught in the Trees might have scored even more highly if it didn't trail off a bit, with Jurado seeming to run out of inspiration towards the end.

It's heady, bleak stuff, certainly, but the sheer ambition and, bizarrely, hint of liberation with which it's performed make it one of the year's most perplexingly life-affirming releases.

The album aims for Grohl-esque rock anthems, but falls short mostly due to a lack of melodic gifts; given that, it needs many more musical ideas than it has to keep anybody interested.

With Fed, Liam Hayes seems to know that he has made an overly ambitious, maybe even hubristic album. He also doesn’t seem to care much about that, making it that much more appealing.

It’s a confident, fantastic and ultimately very rewarding record that should be met with an open mind.

The Rhumb Line is at times moody and downtrodden, but it's Ra Ra Riot's ability to pull out of those situations that saves the album.

Where You Go To I Go Too is one of the finest pieces of music I have heard in years.

All told, For Clouds and Tornadoes is a quality release from a musician that's not afraid to explore outside the usual methods to create extraordinary music.

They made one of the most interesting records of the year.

All told, The Faint, once again, have written a succesful album.

Conor Oberst's latest project has demonstrated his unmistakable ability to maintain continuity across an album while managing to quell any potential boredom before it begins to detract from the listening experience.

This is Newman’s most touching, musically rich and consistent record since "Good Old Boys" way back in 1974; and it’s hilarious to boot.

The intensity of its stylistic approach leaves it feeling nothing short of a musical dissertation as it side-steps melodies, bridges and verses from the get-go.

Vandervelde possesses a strong voice and a definite place as a singer-songwriter, even if that place isn’t too far above the rest just yet.

The latest in a series that's now produced two very good albums, Something For All Of Us... succeeds on many levels and is a testament to Brendan Canning as a solo songwriter and not just as a member of a very succesful band.

A fuller, more measured affair, In Flesh Tones is an impeccable weaving of threads.

For their first official release on Secretly Canadian, Bodies of Water sound concise, powerful and eclectic.

This is the band’s most mature and consistent record yet.

Object 47 is proof that Wire’s edge remains as sharp as ever.

There are four reasons why this album is necessary: firstly, it will make any party you happen to be soundtracking sound very clever. Secondly, following the samples and contributions will open up a whole world of modern and traditional music from the Southern Cone to you. Thirdly, both live and on stage, tracks like Pa'bailar rock a squeezebox like you've never heard. And, finally, Ry Cooder is nowhere in sight.

While not the most creative thing he’s produced, it feels naturally cohesive and stands as an interesting piece on its own.

Overall, it’s an improvement over the yawnfest of "Takk," but not nearly as consistent as one would like.

What made Laughter’s Fifth great and this one better than it might otherwise be is his commitment to just plugging in and playing, which gives the music a spontaneity sorely lacking in much of today’s post-digital landscape.

What they’ve given us is an exquisitely polished blur, enjoyable at times, mildly challenging at others, but nothing that you couldn’t feel comfortable piping in as background for the Sunday barbeque with the Petersons.

After a good handful of listens nothing hugely sticks and it isn't quite clear what they're aiming for.

With a tidy nine tracks, At Mount Zoomer seems like it would be trimmed of any unnecessary filler, but somewhere in the second half things begin to wilt with only shades of interesting ideas.

This is the band’s second album after their somewhat missed "Kamehamena," and their pounce only proves to reinstill the style of the album’s predecessor.

Adem has outdone himself, and has created what may be the strongest record of his solo career so far, and Takes merits hearing as an album in its own right, as well as being one of the best exponents of the maligned covers album genre. Highly recommended.

It’s a glorious mess of a record, reaching for everything at once, and hitting most of it.

Just download the good stuff or buy the album and don’t expect much from Rivers because he never really gave you more than a few minutes of cheap thrills in the first place, which is plenty to thank him for.

Fleet Foxes is certainly a very good record, but it is kept from greatness by its failure to capture the communal feeling of its excellent, buzz-building live shows.

I’m gonna go way out on a limb and say that this is their best album yet.

If you like your pop music with harmonies and heart then the Explorers Club could well have recorded the soundtrack to your summer.

This is a great album, possibly the finest covers record in recent memory, and it’ll take some beating in 2008.

The Age of the Understatement might have been conceived as a tribute to a beloved era in music but thanks to the industry, enthusiasm and talent of Alex Turner and Miles Kane it’s become something much more interesting than that: a great record in its own right.

Momofuku has glorious fragments and plenty of passion.

Unusually for an EP, each track warrants its place on the record and the title track never overshadows anything. It’s well worth listening to, especially if like me you tend to get gushy at the mere thought of probably this country’s greatest living musician.

They may have been marking time slightly of late, but let your fears they'd never rise again be dispersed; this is the best Fall album of the century bar none.

From The Valley To The Stars is simply a collection of mostly good and occasionally great songs that just doesn’t quite work as a whole.

Pyramids leaves its mark as an extremely remarkable and impressive début, and once heard, is unlikely to be forgotten.

Nonetheless, Saturdays = Youth finds itself in the higher echelons of '08 so far for radically different reasons, and, unpredictedly, it wouldn't be too surprising if M83's decision to avoid making a by-the-numbers album saw those overdue dividends finally reaching them.

For most of My Bloody Underground, Newcombe vocalizes like a decaffeinated Kevin Shields, barely audible under the weight of reverb that blankets just about every track.

It’s a vital record, one that’s Nick Cave through and through, and whether he’s exploring his garage roots or his spooky, narrative tendencies it’s at all points a triumph.

This is Kim Deal’s version of scuffed-up shoegazer rock, albeit with a shit-eating grin shining off the moonlight.

Unfortunately, they didn’t miss by biting off more than they could chew; it’s more a sense of complacency you get form listening to Walk It Off.

Yet, while it's unlikely that the previously familiar will be suddenly converted by these endeavours, it wouldn't be strictly fair to say that there's not the occasional hint of a broadened palette on display here.

this is a rock album, R.E.M are back being literate and smart, Stipe is barking out lyrics like it’s 1987… in fact, beef up some songs off "Document" and you could mix the two albums up.

Much of April is quite lovely. Sure, it sounds like one long song to me, but it’s a nice song, with subtle variations.

Warm and elegant, careful but not calculated, Ward's production stands perfectly alongside his solo releases in terms of sound, style and impact.

This is one of the few releases of 2008 that shook me out of my complacency and forced me to accept it on its own terms.

Real Emotional Trash feels like a compromise, for Malkmus and for us.

Saturnalia revels in sin while occasionally contemplating salvation. Mesmerizing comes to mind.

Quaristice can occasionally be on the sloggish side. However, there's a lot to admire in such a brazen display of accomplishment, and, while it may not be looking to court the most gushing of affection, this will undoubtedly prove to be one of '08's most singular releases.

So while Jagjaguwar may well release a below par record in 2008, Shots is not that record.

Ultimately, Allison is a pleasure to listen to even in the space where she floats right through your head.

Although For Emma, Forever Ago works best as a concise listen, as each song segues naturally into the next, tracks like 'Blindsided' and 'For Emma' quickly rise as shining standouts.

Bradford Cox has created a work that musically and lyrically will attach itself to your consciousness, reflecting exterior experience and encouraging inner association with the former.

The only problem (and I don't even know if its a problem) is that every track registers as an epic of some sort, so much so that the album itself registers as a pleasurable, cathartic blur rather than a cohesive statement itself.

This is another huge step forward for a band not afraid to take them.

Falling... is a remarkable leap forward; as Lightspeed Champion, Hynes is, at last, a serious contender.

Vampire Weekend is indie rock with its edges sanded off, polished to a clean, sparkling sheen.

Even if this type of thing isn’t your bag, it’s really pretty irresistible and is worth a shot.

The fact is there are just too many smart, well-written songs on this album to get hung up on the messy sound.

This collection is simply a joy to listen to, with great singers lovingly rendering great songs with a talented producer at the helm.

A work of remarkable beauty, Elegies To Lessons Learned contains far more reasons to be cheerful than it reasonably should, and if you’re looking for post-rock done properly then iLiKETRAiNS are more than on the right lines.

It’s as brazen, bold and brilliant as anything it’s done thus far. It is, as Thom Yorke claimed, very minimal. Yet, the album never sounds half-finished, but instead focused and refined. It’s as vital as anything the band has done.

Grounded enough to know the limits of the listener (songs meander, but only to the confines of their ideas, never tiring out a single theme), but more than adventurous enough to remain extremely exciting.

They've just released their second very good album, Hera Ma Nono, and the collaboration is still positive and unforced.

This may be his best rock record since "Born In The USA" (I think I prefer "Lucky Town"), but that’s not saying much. Frankly I suspect his heart is in the quiet acoustic stuff, but it’s still great to hear him pick up the old Esquire once in a while.

There may be nothing exactly wrong with Good Arrows as a record, and I’m sure that in a different time and situation it would be considered a respectable if shallow pop record.

Harvey’s audio experiments are celebrated with the release of each new album. But I wonder what she would do without any limitations.

By pushing pop into the dreary without all the drab, Iron and Wine strikes a balance of truth and hope that can get muddled by a scene dominated by pessimists.

Smokey is lengthy, as are all of Banhart’s albums, but make it to the last track and the reward is reminiscent of Banhart’s infallible 2004 album, "Rejoicing in the Hands."

Bedroom is an album of dynamics and contrasts with its biggest asset its heart; chipped, cracked or broken, naivety is replaced by genuine emotion. Sometimes it’s boring and sometimes it’s endearing.

Like unsettling lullabies, The Cave Singers brand of folk music is contemplative, but isn’t that of a summery strum.