His best album in over ten years.

If there's a quibble, 'Honeycomb' does lack variation of pace. Though it doesn't matter when the tunes are as consistently as good as 'Sing for Joy'.

The album suffers from serious momentum problems. You get something that hammers in a good and interesting way and then a few minutes later it's like the tap of a blue tit's beak on a milk bottle top.

Their brilliance lies in writing the crassest, most obvious, lowbrow hooks.

Even on repeated listens, the search for the showy dazzle of The Killers, the lyrical tomfoolery of the Kaiser Chiefs or the sheer stadium smartness of Franz Ferdinand proves fruitless, and it becomes apparent that, in an age where indie's proving to be the stronghold of overachievers, 'Cuts Across The Land' may have missed its moment.

Aside from a few duff tracks 'Loose' is an absolute beauty that couldn't have arrived at a better moment.

'Try This' is quite the album - most things to all people, touched by audacious greatness, and as fine an advert for imperfectionism as we could've demanded.

A worthy endeavour from one of the most important bands alive.

You've heard all this before, but it still sounds glorious.

The music itself doesn't quite have the simple accessibility and easy soul of her debut, but it's loads of fun and bursting with ideas.

'Brother Is To Son' has to be listened to many a times before certain things start to fall into place. But when they do, boy, they sound great!

It's a joy to listen to but tough to recommend.

Too often, though, as on the lacklustre title track 'Favours For Favours' or 'Thursday', it has to be said that the new beast just isn't as feisty as the one-trick pony of old.

It's about the best a studio grime album can be.

Great album though this is in it's own right, the failing of 'The Endless Not' is that it just sounds like it's happy to play safe. No shocks, no surprises... and , sadly, none of what made TG arguably, together with the Sex Pistols, THEE most important force in the evolution of modern popular music.

Not necessarily a fantastic album then, but a great excuse for a record, nonetheless.

A collection of skewed pop classics that draw as much on the contemporary R&B of Timbaland as they echo the darker side of New Order.

It feels like one of the most uncompromising and oddly impactful offerings they've produced in many years.

Offers the sound of Stereolab doing what they do best. Love it or hate it, it won't alter the world, it just is.

See, there're a good few cracking singles on here, but there are also occasions when her wistful classicism leads her down blind alleys.

As an exercise in hubris and chutzpah it's a rather fascinating affair.

'Elevator' is not as instant as 'Make Up The Breakdown', though it has adequate catchy tunes in the style of XTC and Joe Jackson to retain most of the interest from those who enjoyed them last time.

Compared to their offerings to date 'Amber' has the hardest edges, but it wouldn't be Clearlake if it wasn't soft in the centre.

Twilight listening of this ilk can teeter dangerously on the ledge of snoozedom, but anyone who can manage to drop off during this album's many unnerving and often hyperactive moments is going to have some damn weird dreams.

A collection of rehashed moments from his brilliant though patchy career, a sowed together patchwork of pastiche.

It's highly unlikely that Buck 65 is ever going to become the cash cow that his paymasters probably thought he was going to be, but let's hope that he is invited to keep on presenting us with his skewed worldview; a beautiful painting seen in a shattered and blood stained mirror.

'Why Bother' is a testing listen, of course, and after a while the vocals can begin to make your brain start to dissolve in minor whirlpools.

If it's house music you're after then you won't like this because this (sorry to point out the bloody obvious) is something completely different. And that, as far as we're concerned, is the whole point.