It's a huge album, a beautiful album, a witty album, and above all, a Spiritualized album, through and through. If you like Spiritualized albums, you will love 'Let It Come Down'. If you don't, it may be time for a rethink.

The ghosts of prog exorcised fully at last, Gorky's have once more put in a serious challenge to the Super Furries as Wales' most inventive band, and they've produced an album that, both in terms of its astounding quantum leap and its ambitious orchestration, swings excitingly near to the Delgados' genius breakthrough opus 'The Great Eastern'.

From the opening few seconds of 'Rain On Lens' you just know this album is going to be a classic.

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.

Distant connections are subconsciously weaved into an undulating whole that fans of electronica, Tortoise and Mogwai will all appreciate - at least in parts.

How deliciously perverse, and how very, very her.

The cool thing about Solex's sampledelia is that she can do it with humour and still avoid the high-frequency buzzing, 60s hi-fi demonstration records and bongwater bubble traps.

It's exactly the album we all demanded from them, but moreso.

Excruciating, toe-curling Pain, the sort that makes you want to leap through windows or run over children.

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

An astonishingly cheeky affair, and arguably less stylistically cohesive than any Orbital album since their underrated debut

Had 'It's A Wonderful Life' been recorded by anyone other than Sparklehorse, we could simply describe it as an amazing record before sitting back to bask in its splendour, but given everything that Mark Linkous has been through, that such a beautiful record not only exists but sounds so effortlessly graceful marks it out as a definite contender for album of the year.

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

This is a Warp-inspired wonderland of intricate glitches, murmuring glacial low-end smoothness, and subtle, filmic orchestration.

'Iowa' is a fantastic metal record, ferocious and inventive, but their rage is that of psychotic adolescents rather than reasoning adults. You'll love it!

Think Pavement with a shake of Grandaddy and a little dash of something else low-key and lackadaisical and that's Quasi.

Having created the noise to which great hip and ace hop is made, they are now infusing the genre with new blood, vibe, and funk. The future just happened. [Review of UK version]

However essential it was to make, it just doesn't feel essential enough to keep on hearing.

Iggy's own production fails to lift it out of the nu-metal quagmire - sometimes the perfectly executed power chords and unimaginative guitar licks feel every bit as raw and dangerous as Bowie's Tin Machine farrago.

A totally modern album that manages to nearly ignore his wilful, malicious past and embrace the California smog/sun with a polished fervour that is almost nauseating to witness.

An album of dull, vocal virtuoso ballads.

One of the most distinctive and satisfying records you'll hear all summer.

With that warm soapy trumpet now hinting at something a flutter more soulful than the usual dose of despair and despond, the Tindersticks have actually moved on and started meaning something again.

It's clearly touched by the hand of Brian Eno, who tries (and succeeds with) all sorts of jumpy, trippy beats.

'Rooty' isn't going to change your world - 'Remedy' did that - but it is another indispensable, truly, properly, madly inventive and utterly enjoyable album of the sort that, at the moment, only Basement Jaxx make.

The album is a parasite, a pollutant, and should be kept well away from children and old people.

Somehow Blink 182 have captured the space created by Green Day.

As smooth and comforting as an afternoon on an old leather sofa that fits you like your own skin.