What it proves to be is an exhilarating, uneven, thought-provoking, over-egged, over-long, lucid, barnstorming, soul-infused hip-hop album of a type that, as I may have mentioned once or twice or five times, you just don't get any more. Except, of course, you do, and here it is.

This is a record that leaves you wishing for one thing more, though--some of these beats seem too good to be used on an instrumental, and could stand up handsomely against a powerful wordsmith.

Bossalinis & Fooliyones is, at worst, an amiable enough diversion, at best it's very entertaining.

Unknown Rooms is very, very accomplished, giving the sense that Wolfe has realised the extent of her own ability and acted on it.

Khan has truly emerged as one of modern pop's most thrilling voices. Steeped in references? Perhaps, but Khan's own spirit of invention and emotional wisdom are through lines which make The Haunted Man a singular journey.

The album hits its stride by 'The Strange Attractor', a pulse-raiser that seductively conjoins steamy, tranced out vocal inflections to an urgent, vacillating tribal tempo.

This excellent record on Manchester's Bird label isn't some generic late adopter's attempt to take on the Moon Wiring Club, rather a genuinely unhinged, unique and deliciously weird pop album.

There's a sense that Pink is somehow serious, utilitarian, workmanlike, that while the tracks brought together here may work in isolation and on dancefloors, they're not as suited to indulgently solipsistic listening as previous Four Tet records.

Metz [have] easily made one of the finest and most ferocious punk albums in years on this sledgehammer of a debut.

This is an album about a mother's love, made by a mother, for a mother. And it also happens to be Martha Wainwright's greatest artistic achievement to date.

While we often expect clarity of thought from our favourite lyricists, Wolf's admission that he doesn't hold all the answers makes these songs all the more relatable and poignant.

The range of sonic ideas, fully realized songs, and prodigious vocal talent on Kaleidoscope Dream arrives as the most pleasant of shocks.

It's an album which succeeds by virtue of elegance, and which knows a hell of a lot without ever seeming overly knowing.

Breakthrough is an eclectic and challenging record that features more than a few sublime moments of heady bong-haze depth.

Cohen brings to mind the far out, oddball eccentricity of Robert Wyatt, patted down and smoothed over by Colin Blunstone's suavity, adding to the canon of otherworldly, offbeat artists who resist definition.

This is the sound of a band once again setting a course for personal creative development and revelling in its every ambitious step.

It's flawed, but unlike the vast majority of Ellison's current contemporaries, its flaws and contradictions remain as intriguing as its positive points, and lend themselves to repeat listens.

Solitude and/or headphones are the key to The Predicting Machine, another unflashily fine opus from a fellow who's almost cursed, in terms of the praise he gets, by being too reliable.

In an age of hyper-optionality these tracks are never festooned with excessive detail where a few stark gestures would do, and the results boil over with primitive playfulness.

What we end up with is a fairly decent dubstep album with Cuban samples sprinkled on top.

On the whole, though, call Transcendental Youth a stumble and wait for the next Mountain Goats release next year.

A Thing Called Divine Fits is a seemingly rare thing; a really good, life-affirming rock record that just works, and gets better and better the more time you spend with it.

This isn't an album; it's a series of OCD thoughts thrown together in passing, the only sense of cohesion coming during a rare chance for bassist Chris Wolstenholme to take centre stage on vocals.

Sic Alps, a taut and absorbing listen, appears to have a mission to take conventional beauty and make it something more interesting by fraying its corners and smearing it with a little dirt. There is nothing Sic Alps could have done to create a better, more delicious sweet and sour record.

I think of this band as one of the most consistently interesting musical projects of the last ten years, and this new material hasn't proven me otherwise.

Order Of Noise shows off Gainsborough's more accessible side--a good thing--but it's also a signpost marking a good place to start digging a little deeper, both into his own music and that surrounding him.

Though their sound is undoubtedly unique, their music has become formulaic.

Much of this delightful album resonates with the sound of a man's ambition fulfilled.