Aspiring to find a middle ground between her folk background and the burgeoning success of electro-pop is an enterprising objective, but it is one which Goulding predominantly succeeds in through her genuine sincerity.

Sometimes The Blues is Just a Passing Bird is a quieter set of songs, and an EP that continues to reveal both the talent and ambition of one of the most exciting folk artists of recent years.

There's no pandering to authenticity here, no appeal to the emotion: Love Remains doesn't drag you into its world with any sort of force whatsoever so much as it places square within it, naked and indifferent.

If the point of music is for us to take something from it - whether it be an emotional response or a change in mindset or any sort of inspiration - then The Age Of Adz is the most selfless album ever recorded, and Sufjan is the most giving composer.

If Guster can grow old and still sound so damn cheerful, maybe everything won't be so drab after all.

Monogamy falls somewhere near the bottom rung. The indie game has changed. Without the Cursive name behind him, Tim Kasher is, sadly, not much of a player.

Unlike previous releases, there is not a dire need to shuffle back a few tracks to listen repetitively, but more of a, 'when I'm in the mood' feeling. No Age are certainly living in the moment, and Everything In Between has a similar retention factor.

Invented reins in Jimmy Eat World after Chase This Light. It still possesses the same inviting, feel-good sentiment, but it's expressed more personably, and in this regard it makes for a very rewarding listen.

Ring is an album that puts Cameron Mesirow on par with any of the emerging group of experimental female vocalists and if we didn't notice it before, there's a Glasser-shaped hole somewhere between Bat For Lashes' conceptual pop schizophrenia and Fever Ray's icy soundscapes and Cameron Mesirow is the missing puzzle piece. Debut albums rarely come more accomplished.

So no matter what audience The Big Deep finds, one must respect The Sleeping for this sincere and passionate performance... For this truly is now a band that feel comfortable in their own skin.

A great album, tweaked.

It's certainly an all-encompassing, monolithic piece of work, an album that'll make a bunch of people suddenly relieved that there's another Swans album, in a we've missed you kind of way.

It's so smooth, this record, that it's sometimes too smooth, to the point to being slight.

Hurley proves that Rivers still has some gas left in the tank.

With False Priest, Barnes finally seems to be settling into his own skin, cherry picking from his long history and patching it all back together into something that Of Montreal could ride into the new decade. Just no more concept albums, please.

Penny Sparkle's brisk length works to its advantage: music this glacial just can't be endured for too long. But this isn't to say Penny Sparkle doesn't (possibly) foretell a interesting future for Blonde Redhead; in fact, I'd say I'm hoping more than ever before that the band sticks with this newfangled direction, to see if they can work out the kinks and make the kind of record Penny Sparkle could've been.

The thing is, despite their participation in the bustling, creative and innovative 90's scene, Majesty Shredding might just be their best album yet.

What ultimately holds Flamingo together is its consistency; a trait which is not exactly synonymous with The Killers. It could be argued that there is not a single bad song included amongst its ten tracks (although it pays not to closely inspect the four bonus cuts included on the Deluxe Edition of the LP) and all are in some way catchy. It makes for a sound and interesting listen, but one which still leaves listeners a little disappointed.

Lisbon is an album from a band finally using the full palette of their talents to adapt and come out the better for it, and that's a pretty picture to behold indeed.

A Thousand Suns is an extremely well-crafted rock album from a band whose (self-directed) anger is, for once, well placed.

Harlem River Blues is Justin Townes Earle's crowning moment. It's relaxed without being tiresome, vintage without being gimmicky. Most importantly, it's great. The songs are great, the lyrics are great and there's not a weak song on it.

Album of the Year certainly makes a case for his continual progression into one of the best producers in the hip-hop game. Maybe next time out he'll release the 'Album of the Year', but for now we just have one of the best of 2010.

Indeed, Grinderman 2 is actually a far more listen-able record, with far more replay value, and this is what I'll remember when I find myself nostalgic for the dumb simplicity of the first album.

The high points of Pop Negro are where Diaz-Reixa is at his most celebratory and unrestrained and moments like the vocal hooks in "Ghetto Facil" and the stop-start pounding of "FM Tan Sexy" prove it. Unfortunately, the exuberance that bursts out of the clutter of his best songs is a characteristic seen too rarely here.

Airtight's Revenge sounds like he had a lot of **** he needed to work through, but from great talent, and great catharsis, has come great art. It's hard to imagine that this will break through to any major audience, since it's even less accessible than the rejected Love for Sale, but it seriously deserves it.

Personal Life is nothing new for the Thermals, but that doesn't mean that it's nothing to write home about. It still packs enough of a punch to please the most diehard of fans.

While Dark Is the Way, Light Is a Place isn't the album that will make long time fans of Anberlin still holding out for some sort of magnum opus from the band weak in the knees, it is the third straight near perfect album released by them.

Familial plays its cards remarkably close to the chest, much like Selway's work in Radiohead. Selway never asks for attention, but still receives it through his remarkable consistency and precision.

Everett has stated that Tomorrow Morning is an album of redemption, and being so it beams with a warm and understated jovial jaunt that never outlives its welcome and is omnipresent throughout the album.

Everything a sophomore effort should be.

All We Grow is still a remarkable debut, a perfect companion for these upcoming leafy fall months, and a huge indication of really good things to come.

I can forgive a couple of transgressions if Teenage Dream redeemed itself with songs that were more than trashy, one-dimensional pop, but, alas, the rest of the album is just as predictable as the VMAs and only marginally more entertaining.

In defence of Surfing the Void, it's certainly not an album I'd describe as 'bad' per se--it's just a massive disappointment.

It's a staggering return from his alleged creative crisis, a terrific addition to his discography, and a wonderful addition to an already fantastic 2010.

The Final Frontier is the kind of record that takes several listens to truly appreciate, but it's definitely worth it.

The music on The Suburbs is as direct and straightforward as Butler's lyrics.

As a comeback album following one of the decade's most memorable flameouts, it reaches all expectations adequately. But considering the late musician you're obviously modeled after (and more disappointingly, the Hella-inspired track to which this album seems to forget ever existed), King of the Beach feels more like an expertly timed marketing ploy.

It's a take it or leave it sort of deal and though I presume that is exactly how it's going to be received among most listeners, there's a fan base here for any romantic fuzz-nerd with a sweet tooth, which considering the success of the inferior Dum Dum and Vivian Girls (of which one plays in Best Coast's live band (with all due respect)) is quite an audience indeed.

Nightmare is a completely different offering; even though it still has highly questionable moments, it's obvious that a genuine effort was put in, and that's enough reason to listen.

Mines is one of the better rock albums to come out this year, and yes, it's interesting.

And through the tragedy, what remains, this testament, is a spiraling exercise in gorgeous music, a record knee deep in that subtle legend, but ankle up a collection of tunes as haunting and surreal as the personas and events that surrounded it.

The point is that MAYA has to be taken as it comes, culture jam and all, and it's precisely at this point that it works out to be one of the most refreshing albums to hit the shelves in a long, long time.

The Stepford wives of shoegaze.

Freed from the aesthetic demands of an odd-couple partnership, Big Boi (Antwan Patton) improves on the standard set with 2003's Speakerboxxx, an ostensibly solo work crystallized inside a double-album set, delivering a record that's rigidly focused and almost uniformly strong.

Expo 86 proves that Krug and Boeckner still can do what's always been most important, namely writing songs that still kick *** at every available opportunity.

Even though the change in sound might alienate the most stubborn of fans, what they gain on their Barsuk debut is a new found sense of direction and a grandiose vision that stretches farther than the confines of math-rock ever could.

This album is audible therapy, complete with several cuts of Eminem apologizing, taking responsibility for being a terrible rapper, and promising to get better.

Stars are quickly carving out their own niche among their peers. And in doing so, they're writing some of the most fluid and organic music of their lives.

It may not be an especially immediate album, and is definitely not one which can be listened to as background music for fifty minutes, but its slow-burning qualities turn what initially may seem a little messy, into a satisfyingly cohesive release.

American Slang is a very subtle step forward from The '59 Sound, conjuring exactly the same thrills from slightly different angles. They're still the archetypal blue-collar all-American rock band given an emotionally sloppy, musically slick post-punk makeover.

Barbara is pure We Are Scientists, and in the context of the band's discography, it's hopelessly unoriginal but undoubtedly strong, the kind of record that will either have you tearing out your hair in frustration at a band that showed so much promise or singing along in your car to a CD chock-full of superb sing-a-longs.

It has always been those smooth, lush arrangements that have allowed Sarah to wear her heart on her sleeve without turning every song into an oppressively cheerless engagement, and that is still the case on Laws of Illusion.

The album is packed full of glossy guitar riffs, silly sing a long lyrics, and bombastic arena-rock choruses.

Stroud and Mast are still two of the best beat alchemists around, able to craft layer upon layer of instrument and sounds to brilliant effect, but it still sounds like you've all heard it before. It all leads to LP4 having little identity of its own, with the unfortunate tendency for tracks to blur into one another.

Sleigh Bells have crafted something entirely unique and that in itself is commendable, and the fact that they've done it with such a bold sound is all the more praiseworthy (or even surprising).

There is a savvy depth evident throughout ‘The Family Jewels’ which simply cannot be ignored; fun, serious, poppy and unorthodox, it is an album full of contradictions, but one which rarely fails to entertain.

There are a couple groovy licks scattered here and there which are half decent, but otherwise it's a tepid exercise in mediocrity difficult to even feign interest in.

At Night We Live is refreshing. Far are heavy, but without sounding like a generic rock band, poppy yet not cheesy, and proud to show they are back.

This is Happening is a marathon-length listen, as in, if you can find a way to deal with James Murphy’s silly, sometimes bizarre lyrical themes and grand scale tracks, it may be worth the wait.

They’ll never be one of the greats, but Band of Horses have proved that they’ve near mastered the art of making quality, old-fashioned rock ‘n roll.

Brothers marks for perhaps the first time in their career that the Black Keys may have opened the door on a new chapter, one that revolves more around the band’s refined songwriting, monster hooks, and growing grab bag of influences than on any one classic sound.

Nas and Damian Marley are a formidable pairing, seemingly on the same level throughout most of the album in thought and overall presence.

The Archandroid is everything her fans had been hoping for and then some; Monae has earned her place at the forefront of black music in 2010. This ballsy, funky, and furiously intelligent album is pop as everybody wishes it would be.

This is an album you can connect your own hopelessness with. It's weirdly relatable, this album, with not really its lyrical content but its various moods.

The National should give faith to anyone who has become disillusioned with indie music, anyone who misses a time where it didn't seem like all the musicians thought they were better than you and you could actually relate to the damn words they were singing. High Violet is another batch of cement to further supplement The National's already unshakable concrete career.

We've been left with a blatant emulation of a tired sound by a band that seems so uninspired that they couldn't even be bothered to make enough effort to differentiate their own songs from one another.

The riffs are meatier, the leads are catchier and the breakdowns, while still present, are reserved for only optimal moments, making The Powerless Rise an instantly memorable modern metal album.

While it is still caught a little in-between moods and is clearly front-loaded, ‘The Optimist’ feels more instinctive than ‘Fantastic Playroom’, and is ultimately a step up because of that.

There's enough fun, intelligent rock n roll to give anyone their Hold Steady fix but in context of their discography, and with a little bit of prodding, this is something grander.

Forgiveness Rock Record is simply evidence of the fact that Broken Social Scene are still very much kings and queens of a world they helped create.

Time will tell if "Cosmogramma" is the most definitive moment of his career, but at this point it seems the realm of electronic music is open for Flying Lotus to be the next big visionary of his genre.

There hasn't been a better blueprint for the New Pornographers' sound and mission, and, if all else fails, Together will certainly make you smile.

Diamond Eyes is wild and serene, and I can honestly say its Deftones' best album to date.

While the ten tracks here can switch from sexy to mature, dark to funky, and the differences make themselves further known with extended listening, the heavy reliance on the synth does, unfortunately, keep that complaint intact. Omni is still a very solid record.

Mondo Cane is a summer-time staple and a faithful reminder that Mike Patton can sing but sadly little else.

At just over thirty-five minutes, the length of the album works to its advantage too, not overstaying its welcome as well as solidifying the fact that there's nothing exceptionally challenging about In Evening Air.

The bands debut album Tourist History is clearly far from original, yet it ultimately wins listeners over with its immediate, enthusiastic, likeable and catchy mixture of ingredients, which results in a sound that is certain to have toes tapping from the pubs to the clubs.

I would love nothing more than to tell you that Nobody's Daughter is a massive ***-you to the haters, but unfortunately, all this does is give them more ammunition, meekly soiling the legacy of a band that deserves far, far better.

This is a mainstream metal band that probably puts just as much emphasis into their marketing as they do their music, but, like it or not, they’ve also released their best album so far and it’s actually pretty entertaining.

Avi Buffalo wear their musical influences on their sleeves (Built To Spill, the aforementioned Shins, Elephant 6, etc. etc.), and their lyrical direction is more Superbad than J.D. Salinger, but it's charming without being cloying, poppy without being overly sugary. Most importantly, it's the kind of debut that leaves you thrilled for what the future may bring, and that's something special.

While she has not found Torn Mk.II and continues to prove her weaknesses as a vocalist, Imbruglia has at least shown some much welcome diversity here. That, along with her hallmark sweet melodies, means that Come To Life is at least worth a listen.

Using neanderthalic rhymes that MC Hammer would be proud of, the lyrics are in your face and exclusively concern rock ‘n’ roll, girls, drinking and partying.

Swim is quite dark; this is definitely pop of the bedroom sort, and despite Snaith's vocals usually being indecipherable, buried underneath hissing drum machines and meretricious synths, there's a pervading sense of intimacy to the whole thing.

As much as Travellers drags in the middle after the novelty of hearing new Apples in Stereo has worn off, it does redeem itself near the end, more on the basis of Schneider hitting on some of the best melodies of his recent career than on any variance in sound.

The Radio Dept. are comfortable in their safety, the masters of indie pop/shoegaze fence-sitting, neither here nor there in message or meaning. It’s a stance they’ve refined with each release and Clinging to a Scheme rocks back and forth cautiously over a safety net of the softest cotton, never in any danger of losing its footing in the first place.

The entirety of Blue Sky Noise blows away anything else that Circa Survive have ever done. It is immense, it is challenging, and it will make fools out of those who doubt it.