This one challenges in its immediacy, with an emphasis on melody that twists into more muscular signatures so that listeners are never quite sure of the ground they’re on. Meanwhile, in the words and music, there is spellbinding poignancy and aching beauty.

Best here are the former Free/Sharks bassist Andy Fraser uncurling his immortal taut funk on Shock Treatment and New York’s Robert Gordon crooning I Still Love You with quivering pathos.

Adamski’s productions have moved with the times, while keeping references to the piano-rave era (though inviting us to Pump Up The Waltz might trigger less happy flashbacks). If there is a key weakness, however, it’s Adamski’s soft spot for a shaky cover.

The band’s full-length debut has spent a long time in the works, but it’s nonetheless an impressive statement of intent.

Great Big Flamingo Burning Moon is another collection that showcases the band’s strengths: Dave Tattersall’s winning way with a pithy short-story of a lyric, and hook-laden songs punctuated by bursts of savage lead guitar.

Brooks, though, stands out by dint of a nimble melodic touch, compositional sophistication and a broader historical frame of references. This makes From Out Here both satisfying and hard to pin down.

If you like your house served tartare then this is an uncommon delight: 15 brutally raw tracks to smack, jack, bump, pump, pop and drop your way through.

Hayman may fall short of fully embracing the Victorian utopian dreams of his source material, yet a communitarian spirit of which Morris would have approved pervades.

For the most part, this album of amiable desert blues lacks the fire that lit up its predecessor.

Certainly, Childish should never be making laptop beats or recruiting choirs from the DRC, but there might be a sense that his sound needs fresh vigour.

Hold On It’s Easy is in fact one of Cornershop’s most difficult works, for all the wrong reasons.

It all adds up to reaffirm that The Unthanks are among the most quietly accomplished groups around.

Roberts’ latest work is full of sonic space and warmth: an intimate and classically manifested set of tracks in which his melodic arpeggio fingerwork on the guitar is reflected by a soft and expressive voice.

Hexadisc is, for the most part, a difficult listen that doesn’t really seem particularly groundbreaking.

The old sarcasm and spite that made the first few records such evil fun is still here--in particular on Long Haired Punks and Grinding Teeth--and while speedy thrash beats aren’t present, miserably filthy and heavy drone riffs are--a step forward.

No Cities To Love is Sleater- Kinney’s most focused, accessible and often furious work.

It’s not the second coming of Ironman, but tracks such as Love Don’t Live Here No More, Emergency Procedure, Homicide and Blood On The Streets make this one of the best Wu-related releases of recent years, confirming Ghostface as its most consistently engaging member.

It’s a bold and vibrant experiment that, over its beguiling 40 minutes, realigns the piece’s hypnotic power to the trance-inducing qualities inherent in Malian music.

Chhom Nimol's twisting, beguiling vocals tell a hypnotic story without reliance on lyrical narrative; they seamlessly blend into the lushness of the group’s confidently exotic music.

The finest album of Tillman’s career to date, it should have the staying power to make the end-of-year lists.

Shackles Gift reveals a tougher, more concise group than before; though, on the likes of opener Rigid Man and I Want You To Know, they appear to have morphed into--to these ears at least--a less interesting proposition: a relatively straightforward rock band.

Constant throughout is the storytelling flair that sets them apart from peers such as The Smiths and The Cure; there’s an introverted literary stand-offishness to The Go-Betweens’ lyrics.... Meanwhile the four CDs’ worth of rarities and live cuts contain as many riches as the albums proper: a testimony to the strength of the material here. Roll on Volume 2.

His ever more exaggerated diction adds an unexpectedly acrimonious character to some lyrics so that while Modern Blues is far from disagreeable musically, the words will have long-time followers speculating where he’s at.

It’s a solid, sturdy listen, with flourishes of electronics that bring sparkle, but much less of the pop sheen that was evident on Here Come The Bombs.

Not only a remarkable return, but also a songwriting master-class that will hopefully see BC Camplight embark upon a second act worthy of his talents.

The laidback intimacy of the recording reaps especially rich rewards on the heartbreaking Sad Songs And Waltzes, further enhanced by Mickey Raphael’s harmonica. It’s the sibling bond that’s strongest, though: a whole history of great American music coursing through the Nelson blood.

Belle & Sebastian--now much more of a unit than ever before--have found their stride, turning in one of the most satisfying, complete and cinematic albums of their 19-year career.

Regardless of the pretentious set-up, this is another fine record.