In isolation you can imagine any of these songs may have appeared over the last 10 years giving a warm comforting feel, but listened in its entirety the effect is strangely soporific, a steady morphine drip running from start to end.

They've managed to produce a seventh album that's the equal of their baggy debut.

Although more full-blooded and more rhythmically experimental in places, '...Planets' isn't a giant stylistic leap from ''Homseongs', but then, why would you want it to be?

It may well be too long and it might stick to its blueprint a little too faithfully, but singularity of vision can hardly be criticised on a debut record. 'Finelines' is a black-hearted but coruscating journey at speed.

The Raveonettes genius is that they pay homage with such style, passion and grace that it's virtually impossible not to be converted to their cause.

The Sea And Cake are ultimately an infuriatingly inoffensive band.

Hot Hot Heat have managed to find a corner of the rock universe that hasn't been overkilled and have made an impressive and imaginative album.

This is a smart LP. From the opening chunder of 'One Note', a mean bass riff and some grade A wittering, their throb is pure and their thrum sweet.

It sounds like a dog howling over a Sepultura record. No, worse. It sounds like Fred Durst.

A geek's wet dream.

This is Pearl Jam, it's down to you whether that means anything or not.

An album that rivals the brilliant 'The Sophtware Slump'... as their absolute masterpiece.

'Skull Ring' is Iggy's strongest and most consistent album since 1993's 'American Caesar'.

'Gotham!' is an infinitely danceable and certainly insightful record that gets better with each listen, on every frequency.

Nearly every line contains a shock, a sharp intake of breath. To say this album is worth more as a social document than a musical one is no insult.

On a first listen it sounds very long. On a second listen it sounds just like the eponymous debut, with the odd anthem missing. On a third listen we have to concede there are some fine moments.

On 'Impeach My Bush', Peaches has significantly upped her game with a greater leap from 'Fatherfucker' than there was between that album and debut 'The Teaches Of Peaches'.

This is a brooding, thoughtful work, a band stripped bare, naked music and raw emotion, beautifully sung and played with the command of a band that knows less is more is the key to great rock'n'roll.

Anyone expecting a return to the spiky garage rock of 'I Should Coco' may again be disappointed by Gaz & co's refusal to whole heartedly revisit the three-chord bluster of their debut, but with 'Life On Other Planets' Supergrass have come closer than ever to the psychedelic pop-punk masterpiece of their dreams.

These songs are full to the brim with ideas and a charming naivety - but there's a major hurdle that ultimately compromises the enjoyment: the vocals.

Sonically, there's no radical steps forward here, but then standing still for Kristin Hersh is pretty much the equivalent of most people's sprinting: we could do with a few more of her.

You'd probably want Missy to wash her hands before she got anywhere near a real kitchen if this album is anything to go by. The perv.

Repeated listens propel it towards sounding like his best yet.

It's full-on, one-dimensional and perfect. It ain't clever, but it could be very big.

We've rooted for them and been scantly rewarded, but at last they’ve done it - 'Heroes To Zeros’ is great and they know it.

And so it goes on sonic cliche after awful lyrics after terrible synth settings after lazy drum beats after... well, you get the picture.

Musically there's nothing on 'Stars of CCTV' that stands out as particularly innovative or imaginative[;] it's above average modern indie fare made with gusto by people who want to make records that sound like the records they like: The Clash, The Specials, The Verve and a bunch of other bygone Britpoppers.

So, his best album since 'Scary Monsters' (ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!).