A fine album for autumn.

Throughout, monster riffs abound. Perhaps this monochrome-clad cartoon combo are as great as singer Howlin’ Pelle always said they were.

Burial has concocted a noir-ish sound that’s as powerful as it is atmospheric.

In Rainbows really does present Radiohead at their most full-blooded and confident.

The new album conjures something of Condon’s own imagination, more deftly-etched romantic fiction than dry travelogue, and is all the better for it.

When Cease To Begin rocks out it's euphoric, but there's a mournfulness shadowing each of these insistent melodies that will have you crying even as you smile.

The songs on Comicopera rate amongst his very best--emotionally complex, politically charged but never short of beautiful.

Don't let the seductively pleasant drift of the tunes fool you: this is sharp, dark stuff.

Even by her own unsettling standards, however, her seventh album is disturbing, a collection of smudged and spectral laments that appear to have been written before the invention of penicillin.

The result is a folk album so rich and intricate that, in scope, it's comparable to Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks."

it's great to hear Banhart playing outside of type, and the swagger and muscle occasionally at work suit him surprisingly well.

It's a bewildering jumble on first gaze, but Harte's little fingerprint-smudged slivers, so lovingly composed, are precious things, and you'll fast find yourself addicted to his sweet, glum love stories.

Give it a bloody good stereo and your full attention.

An ambitious, filler-free, modernist-sounding beast which laughs in the face of underachievement.

The Go! Team are clearly committed to the lo-fi, DIY aesthetic, but with songs as strong as these it’s rather a shame they didn’t apply a little depth and finesse to their production.

Good Bad, Not Evil delivers 13 testosterone-crazed grooves which mercifully give finicky revivalism the swerve, in favour of fuzz-frazzled sonics and lots of fun.

Experimental yet poppy, awkward yet unforced, Panic Prevention is a minor masterpiece from a truly bar-raising new talent.

M.I.A. and co-producers, including Switch, straddle more styles than you’d find in most music collections, let alone on the same disc.

It's brilliant: Broder's twisted tales are better than ever, this time underpinned by urgent guitar riffs, off-beats and perfect pacing.

Roots And Echoes is an album of songs with all the warmth and familiarity of old leather--and as strangely unexciting as that sounds.

Rather than play catch-up, the Chems are accentuating the difference, digging deeper into melody instead of piling on the noise.

If there is such a thing as music with a hairy chest, this is it.

There's a real richness here, and raw venom beneath any fey first impressions, as gentle finger-picking bursts into free-jazz fuzztone guitar blasts and bloodied lyrics.

NYPC's restrained disco needs to rip it up and get wilder, cos this down‘n’dirty posse is actually cleaner than a Boots cosmetics counter.

It’s a fun mess, and although heavily indebted to 60s psyche folk and acid rock, Astronomy For Dogs has a verve and colour that saves it from derivative pastiche.

Overall, The Sun feels like three men taking things at their own leisurely pace but without wasting a second.

Their debut has a great deal of shadowy appeal: there are lyrics about ghosts and secrets, set to drowsy washes of guitar.

Whatever the permutations, Amiina's fragile magic can't fail to beguile.