The results sound as if Lynch's old protégé Chris Isaak had taken a left turn into lyrical eccentricity, pulsing synths and sinister atmospherics.

The most compelling tracks take drastic liberties with the original material, deconstructing Kinshasa sound systems into industrial-tropical hoedowns that reflect postmodern London more than Africa's teeming townships.

Her overemphasised enunciation puts Boyle firmly in the Julie Andrews stage show tradition but, at her best, she rises above inoffensive background music to gently brush the emotions.

Those who loved The King Is Dead should certainly enjoy the EP--a sort of CD extras from a fine main production.

She really does sweep the listener away, spinning wild webs of sound and carrying us off to her own aural dreamland.

Reed's words dictate the musical structure. Often, Metallica simply fall in behind them in a free-form drone. Like much of Reed's late-period work, this is abstract and literary but even by his standards, Lulu is gruelling.

Smoking in Heaven is hugely enjoyable.

Great pop music with its big heart in the right place.

The wild, rattling bawlers are each distinctively turbocharged with reckless and richly textured energy, while the ballads run poignantly on their rims, leaking emotion.

High Flying Birds is the best collection of Gallagher tunes since his Morning Glory days.

Lisa Hannigan is on confident form in her second solo release since the split from Damien Rice.

It's surprisingly exhilarating stuff.

Underneath the almost soporifically smooth old-soul and country polish, Adams's ear for a delicate melody and feel for the shadowy nuances of emotion give this latest chapter beautiful depth.

It's a fully-acoustic affair (guitar, piano, upright bass, drums, etc), with a luxurious, live-combo presence and some gruff musings on time, humanity and music.

There is an avant garde boldness here that is, at times, quite amazing.

It's simply a great album from start to finish - wonderful tunes, superb musicianship, star guests and a unity of purpose about delivering a fitting tribute to the music he loves that raises this album to such a high level.

The performances are superb.

It's a fun-loving, tune-heavy indie/punk/pop romp, with girlie la-la harmonies, a none-more-cheesy organ sound, and welcome vocal echoes of Britpop femmes Elastica and new wave heroine Lene Lovich.

It's surprisingly accessible, hypnotic and beautiful if you give it time and concentration.

From the clarion call of The Hosting Of The Shee to the haunting The Faery's Last Song, the result is a fabulous feast of words and music.

It's all precisely mixed and impressively textured, but lacks Blake's more raw, emotional connection.

Business as usual, then, with few new thrills.

The album is a beauty, none the less, the care put into it confirming Williams's exalted position in the tower of song.

Nothing on this, her fourth album, rivals that hit [1234] for toe-tapping immediacy, but it is rich in atmospheric beauty.

It's an album undiminished by time, that can still make me want to throw myself around an imaginary mosh pit or curl up in a fetal ball.

A guest spot for Little Dragon's Yukimi Nagano adds spice to this unexpected feast.

His fifth album, however, finds him still in peak form, voicing socially aware hip hop and outré electro-disco, all with an eloquence which often eludes the newer generation.

It's a heart-warming who's who.