Profound and intense, they had reached a level of interaction most bands can only dream of. Svensson's loss goes deep.

Luna is a psychedelic delight.

Masters at building tension upon tension then gently letting it go, their cyclical instrumentals are both sorrowful and consoling.

The dreamy 'Cold Desert' is the perfect maudlin end to this short, sharp, 42-minute, no-filler album, revelling in every miserable blues-rocker cliché as Matthew's guitar goes all shoegazey and then briefly threatens to turn the whole thing into a 'Purple Rain' wig-out.

It's a real thrill to find TV on the Radio pushing through the portal into the ethereal space-rock paradise that they always seemed destined to inhabit.

Loyalty to Loyalty, an improvement on 2006's filler-heavy debut, is a sincere, if preachy, advertisement for integrity over image.

Wait till you hear 'Norrlands Riviera', the best thing Belle and Sebastian never did. Blissful.

Ladyhawke is an accessible but immensely rewarding listen, and while some of this singer's influences may be middle of the road, her album isn't even on the road.

On the one hand, it's riotously good fun; on the other, it's a bit naff.

There's no stand-out to match 'Tiny Tears' or 'Marbles' but Stuart Staples's crumpled voice and the distinctively intricate arrangements summon Lee Hazlewood's tear-flecked, bruised spirit.

Their foppish indieboy spin on classic folk-rock is, more often than not, perfectly listenable. But you can't help but wonder, between all the gleeful strums and wizened howls, whether they possess the inner torment to carry off such worldly material.

Perhaps those earliest Detroit grooves are truly inimitable after all. But if you want to hear someone give the task one hell of a shot, The Way I See It affords the finest view.

As bright young things fall in and out of fashion, it's a joy to have these gnarled veterans back to reinforce the sheer visceral thrill of timeless heavy metal.

Calexico's dusty vistas make a welcome comeback.

Grasslands, wind in your hair, long, dusty roads travelled - it's all evoked in Joan's fine 24th studio album, and her voice, high and flowing, low and gravelly, flows timelessly through it like a mountain stream.

F&M have added intriguing textures to the Krautrock of 2006's Transparent Things.

The result is an album that, unquestionably, marks him out as one of the UK's most promising new producers.

The concept of LA as a 'Sunblessed City of Angels' is trite, co-opting another's song for the theme tune lazy, and much of what follows resembles a Beach Boys tribute band.

Somewhere between Ennio Morricone, Talk Talk and late-period Massive Attack, it is atmospheric, if relentlessly bleak, with the exception of cult director Abel Ferrara's imitation of Bob Dylan on 'Open Up Your Eyes'.

Proficient and predictably salacious.

Brotherhood seems to be one for completists only. But the bonus disc, Electronic Battle Weapons 1-10, takes this into must-have territory.

Slime & Reason, then, is yet another gutsy work from a deeply honest artist.

The Golden Mile is more substantial: a very well-made rock record of perfect length (about 45 minutes) and contradictory catharsis.

Brett Anderson has reached a creative menopause.

Their second reunion carries the listener a good third of the way into this punningly titled fourth album. Trouble is, the second two-thirds are a very long slog indeed.

Of all the 32-minute concept albums inspired by Paul Auster to come out of Sunderland this year, it's comfortably the best.

Happily, Slipknot can pull in these directions and still maintain a new standard of bone-crunching intensity . There are louder metal bands in the world, for sure, but the Iowan nine-piece continue to make the most noise.

This, his band's 20th album, won't reinvent the wheel, but tracks such as 'The Time is Right' rank among the most evil-sounding in the canon.