A joyously audacious opening salvo.

'Hypnotise' is full on, paranoid, insane, intense, terrifying, and it's telling the truth too... dangerous stuff in other words.

She might not quite have made it through the wilderness just yet, but she's chosen the most glittering road to resurrection she could find, and it's one she walks with no small smattering of style.

'Aerial' towers over the vast majority of even this year's embarrassment of riches.

Gris Gris' practice of bleeding their songs together in dissonance creates a roller coaster that renders 'For The Season' over before you've really realised it's begun.

As a headphone album, 'These Were... The Earlies' is something of a stunner.

What makes Bunyan's return such an unqualified success is that, unlike so many of those she's influenced (Patrick Wolf excluded) she doesn't come within a country mile of the briar patch of cloying kookiness.

Lyrically the record is less cringe inducing than 'Escapology' but Robbie has been let off the leash for a while in this respect, and while sometimes he can be funny, he needs people to tell him when he's being trite and just downright embarrassing.

Despite its many wondrous moments, 'Feels' is not a record for everyone.

Unlike 2002's 'Geogaddi', it's a wholly gripping journey throughout.

'Playing the Angel' is hardly the most essential Depeche Mode album ever, but it is Depeche Mode doing what they do best.

What blessed bastardry is this? It's bloody brilliant, that's what it is.

'Hey People!' dashes past in such a whippy blur that it's far from immediately apparent what on earth to make of it, although if you suspect it'd be fun going back to find out we wouldn't argue.

Though not really getting the joke can somewhat divorce the listener from proceedings, the slick, masterful production and real-life cameos from the likes of Ghostface and particularly Cee-Lo on the majestic 'Benzi Box' make up for the feeling of exclusion.

For the uninitiated, they churn out a joyless mess of badly tuned indie guitar, spasmodic jazz drumming and cutesy vocalisations, and on 'O'Malley, Former Underdog' they overlay this with irritating electronica that is reminiscent of the noise your discman makes when your mobile phone is in the same pocket.

There's no let up in Kuperus' constant yelps around the difficult end of her vocal range, and it's this that, ultimately, lets 'Gimmie Trouble' down and disappointingly makes this otherwise excellent Adult. album feel rather indulgent and immature.

The whole experience becomes rather draining after a few listens.

I defy anyone not to seep happiness through the pores of their skin once in possession of this record.

Like The Polyphonic Spree stripped of all their faux compound dwelling arse wittery, this is an unambiguous shot of serotonin straight to your head and heart.

At the end of the day this is a bit more of a grower than the last one, but is easily as good.

Where Ladytron's first two albums might have felt to some to be alienating and monochrome, like a shallow bender on champers and very nice drugs, but a shallow bender nonetheless; 'The Witching Hour' is blessed with a far greater palette of sound and sensation, and is as fine a spell as you'll succumb to all year.

'Fall Heads Roll' as a whole might not quite scale the heights of 'The Real New Fall LP', but there's no doubt that elements of it are up there with it.

The most poetic, bookish and winsome of the anticon crew, his new album as Why? sees [Wolf] creating lavish wordscapes over the deceptively straightforward folk rock music.

A little wanting.

Patchy, though when it's good (and nicked) it's very good.

There are already too many Bloodhound Gang albums in the world. This one should be recalled and recycled. Into something that's not a Bloodhound Gang album, obviously.

The Birmingham band's finest hour yet.

More than anything else, 'Cripple Crow' is an album that it sounds like it was born amidst a fun, exuberant creative process.