With 'Talkie Walkie', Air are headed back where they came from. That they do this without actually retracing their own footprints and have produced an album with its own delicate but distinct hallmarks is a measure of their talent.

A smart, exuberant and very real record, whose reach has nothing to do with "authenticity".

Its charms sink their teeth in fast and deep.

Cowboy Junkies have made a 'growing older' record - there's a greater preoccupation with loss and death, reflected in a heavier, darker musical cast.

Marking not so much a revival as a triumphant rising from the ashes, “The Antidote” is a surprisingly potent and clear vision of musical intent.

Essentially, it's "Lovers" part two.

You simply have to marvel at the talents of a man who is surely amongst the most gifted and fascinating musicians of modern times, even if "The Avalanche" does feel like a vaguer retread of the absolute bravura seen on its big brother.

Essentially, 'It's A Wonderful Life', is an equally brilliant and perhaps more cohesive album, mixing an arcane guitar, string and keyboard based atmospheric tilt, with more fast-action, barrelling moments.

This minor masterpiece of an album is nothing less than a precision exercise in deconstructed songwriting.

If Hvarf is a mixed bag of treats and curios, then Heim represents something rather more thrilling: the future (perhaps).

Skim the surface and you'll find ten slabs of icily slick electro-pop, spend a little time and you'll uncover an altogether darker core; either way Unicorn delivers in whichever form you're looking for.

This is what she does, really: talk clever, talk dirty, talk funny and, with Timbaland's dedicated assistance, annually expand the possibilities of what pop music can sound like.

Well, it's not 'Low Life' or 'Technique' but there's at least seven welcome additions to the New Order canon and in the thrilling 'Crystal' and poignant 'Run Wild', a brace of bona fide classics.

"Howl" burns with just as much commitment and fervour [as the previous two albums]; it simply burns slower.

The need for rock'n'roll bands to declare war on clichés has been evident for ages. But who'd have thought a band in tight jeans and sunglasses would wind up leading the charge?

The monotony that blighted 1997's 'Wu-Tang Forever' and the sluggish complacency of some of the Clan's myriad solo projects in the past three years is notably absent. There's a born-again urgency here, with the RZA reclaiming control of the mixing desk from his disciples and trying out a few new tricks to spike the usual routine of cinematic string stabs and virtuoso raps.

Stick with it, and about four spins in, the album reveals itself.

With its refined beats, immaculate arrangements and intelligent melodies, Spirit confirms both Lewis's international ambitions and the likelihood that she'll pull them off.

A cohesive and satisfying listen crammed with generous melodies.

“Meltdown” is a sturdy, well-written and (perpetually adolescent lyrics aside) mature addition to Ash’s enduring and near-essential canon – ample reward for ten years’ loyal support.

Harping on in their own innocuous, oblivious manner, like the shy cousin of Squarepusher the four music makers have succeeded in creating a selfishly inviting album of great beauty and delicacy.

This second album from rappers Will.I.Am, Apl.D.Ap and Taboo is served with a hefty helping of soul sensibility and there are pinches of jazz and calypso thrown in for good measure.

There is as much to be embraced in this as in any of the Gorillaz material. If not more.

It’s all rather marvellous.

Ultimately though, the credit for the triumph of Yes is Tennant & Lowe's. While Xenomania bring a confidence and focus, the big choruses and nagging melodies are present throughout.

If it was 1985, they'd be the biggest band on the planet.

Not quite what we might have hoped for from such historically important innovators. But not quite as bad as it appears, either.

The Dallas native has created a womb of an album. It's a warm, soft, retreat from the outside world. Reading between the lines, this means no hits.... [but] reading the printed lyrics shows what a wonderful poet she is.

So far so daft but what prevents Gerard Way and co from descending into the po-faced seriousness that blighted Green Day and their preposterous "21st Century Breakdown" album is a sense of fun that has eluded the SoCal punks in their latter years.

The album's sinewy rhythms and monochrome production sheen start to fade into the background after a while, but as far as capturing a certain political and musical zeitgeist, "Stealing Of A Nation" does so accurately, and with more honesty and integrity than most.

With their grand orchestrations, love of idiosyncratic detail and self-consciously old-school dynamics, Guillemots sound refreshingly out of temper with the times.

Offend Maggie revels in that tease between balls-out western rock and Matsuzaki's playful but resolutely coy vocal patterns.

Amongst the glam rockers and the tender janglers, it seems that Beady Eye have simply written a Supergrass album. Let's see if Noel has an answer for that.

It's not radically new - although the Timbaland and the Trackmasters contributions are genuinely exciting - but it's exactly what a lot of people want to hear from a hip-hop album right now.

The fear was always that Dirty Pretty Things would resemble The Libertines with a vital ingredient missing, and that's surely what's transpired.

The latest in a long line of frustratingly hit and miss solo efforts.

Sincere of intent and, as ever by Weller, stylishly and deftly delivered, "Studio 150" is a pleasant enough listen, which nevertheless will leave die-hard fans hankering for new Weller material.

What will draw fans old and new to this record, however, is the melancholia of Tindersticks frontman Stuart Staples' vocals, which become especially poignant on the forlorn 'Other Side Of The World.'

Overall, Machine Dreams is bristling with invention and teeming with variety, a fantasy world you won't wish to quickly wake from.

Renegades' is a formidable parting shot. A Rick Rubin-produced collection of 12 cover versions selected to show the breadth of Rage's influences, it's an object lesson in being both inspired by musical history and remoulding it in your own shape.

There's no denying Sway's dazzling verbal chops and it's not just the speed and flow of his delivery that impresses.... His musical backdrops, however, are very much less adventurous and anyone looking to "This Is My Demo" for grime's trademark, darkly paranoid, tacheometric beats will be disappointed.

It's almost the perfect R&B album; cool, sexy, inventive and suitably stylish throughout. All that's missing is a couple of killer singles.

Engineers here prove capable both of emotive songwriting and of virtuoso studio craft.... Yet it falls shorts of true brilliance, for the simple reason that the band steadfastly refuse to rock-out.

Penate has gutted his sound and replaced it with something expressive, warmly empathetic and, best of all, blindingly spangly.

Despite the clichéd lyricism and patchy production in places, "Red Light District" contains enough strength and fun to remain an enjoyable and uplifting ride.

A genre redefining album from the most innovative and exciting voice of a generation? Not exactly. Yet while predictably wide of the genius mark, at its best it does tag Drake a breath of fresh air.

"Send Away The Tigers" is not only the most enjoyable Manics record in years, it's the most consistent.

“Mind Body & Soul” goes a long way to answering many of the questions her debut left hanging in the air, and most of them with a resounding ‘Yes’.

This is the sound of Metallica drawing back into themselves and their history.

St Jude may be occasionally derivative, but it's also solid, confident and, musically at least, rewarding.

The question is whether Years Of Refusal finds Morrissey still opening his musical horizons and legs, or reverting to sour type. Predictably for a man whose solo career often seems to be a sadistic exercise in frustration, the answer lies between the two.

there are many who will find this record torrentially annoying....But to many others, Manners will be a welcome zephyr of optimism ushering away the angst of epidemics and impending environmental oblivion.

Braxton has gotten brave and ratcheted-up both the attitude and tempo.

An emotionally exhausting, sometimes excellent album.

It's almost all too familiar, so much so that it's hard to hear the tender songs and mesmerising instrumentals in their own right.

In drawing on rock, hip hop, electro, drum 'n' bass and early electronic artists, Van Helden mirrors the developments dance acts have been making in the UK and Europe, rather than US artists.

This is far from being a bad album - Jay has never made one of those, nor given the impression he is capable of doing so - but it rarely rises to the levels he has consistently reached.

"Accelerate" pushes along with urgency but a lack of bite - like background music to a bar scene in an indie thriller. "Horse To Water", however, has the machine-gun fast delivery of "It's The End Of The World…" and a cart-wheeling chorus redolent of old times.

There's every sense that Wild Beasts are happy embracing their own ridiculousness and there's enough cheeky humour here, "chocs away!" shagging scenarios and references to old boys and institutions to suggest that whilst there's serious musical craft at foot, the whole lark's just a jolly good old wheeze and "Limbo, Panto" is all the more fun for it.

'What Sound' could easily place Lamb alongside Dido and Zero 7 on this year's coffee tables, but also sets them apart as a unique, ever challenging outfit who'll be worth following long after we've come out of corporate chillout coma.

Just a little sensible pruning then and 'When I Was Cruel' would be a triumphant return to rocking form for Mr Costello.

Let's be clear about this: Head First is by no means a bad record, with its lush pop gloss and flickers of melodic loveliness. But it is a bad Goldfrapp record, their flimsiest and least adventurous yet.

So, once again UNKLE have produced another good rather than great album that sounds ahead of the curve.

Yet though the music may not win any originality awards - Sebadoh and Guided By Voices spring instantly to mind as precursors - there is a refreshing lack of pretension throughout.

If anything the songs might be less hungry than on their debut and less nimble than its follow-up, but it is sure-footed and firmly directional and they have no trouble reaching the benchmark they'd previously set themselves.

The sheer scope of 'Latin', however, is what rescues it from feeling like a box-ticking completion of a mission--as 'P.I.G.S.' races off into the distance after its lull, there's the feeling that there might still be more to see, more work to be done.

Like their debut, 'Start Something' is ultimately too long but where it occasionally flags the pace is soon picked up again.

The result is pretty much what you'd expect from an album bearing Lynne's name on the credits.

It's ironic and ill-fitting that such ditch-hopping actually embroils them in impassioned debate--and it's a credit to them that, love or hate these songs' lack of drama, you'll remember them very, very well.

Inevitably, it all starts to grow a little samey.

Perfectly lovely to listen to, undoubtedly, but curiously difficult to digest. [combined review of both discs]

Although 'Love Is Hell' comes with the assumption that it's more honest than 'Rock'n'Roll', the influences here - albeit different - are just as distracting. [Review applicable to both Part 1 and Part 2]

It feels like a definite upgrade for her, Kate Nash deluxe, courtesy of producer Bernard Butler's expectedly lavish touches. But her standard style of outloud diary readings are not privy to the same overhaul. They prevent it from feeling like much of a progression.

In fact, on the musical front blink-182 are more reminiscent of the Beach Boys than the Sex Pistols: a very, very fast and tasteless Beach Boys, admittedly, but those massed harmonies and that glossy production are the pop perfectionist's fantasy taken to its logical conclusion.

While passages are lovely, the work as a whole struggles to hold the attention.

Carr has always wanted to create his very own sound, and for the first time we are starting to hear it here.

Overall the duo have given us a much braver and stronger album than their last, but as far as anything truly revolutionary goes it’s merely a step in the right direction.

This album's reduced sonic density is both refreshing and slightly disappointing, since the confounding head-rush of their tunes was always a large part of their appeal.

A more satisfying album intellectually than it is musically.

Hands is both exciting and inconsistent, an uncertain step in very much the right direction.

Deeper and darker takes longer to charm, which is bad for singles, but should see the album's shelf life extend to long after Mika's novelty has worn off.

This is a relentlessly exciting album--it's just that sometimes you feel it would be more rewarding to turn off the boosters, slow to a float, and take in the view with awe.

If his family and creditors truly cared about Michael Jackson's legacy, they would now let it and him rest in peace. And chimps will fly...

But though the music is as good as anything they've ever done, rarely resorting to that downbeat, drunk-in-pub-tells-his-life-story tendency they've too often made their trademark, the lyrics are way below [Aidan] Moffat's usual standard.

Furthermore, the way that 'Rulers Of Ruling Things', 'The Horn' and 'The Courage Of Others' arch effortlessly into trippier psych-rock inflected territory suggest a more expansive, weirder Midlake to come.

At times, 'Nocturama' feels like he's trying too hard. Some of the ballads suffer this way, as if Cave's straining to recapture the gravitas of 'The Boatman's Call' without excessive revelations or dramatic contrivance.

Tweet has the kind of voice that doesn't overpower her music but lets it breathe.

The quality is unmistakable and confirmation enough that she deserves to be remembered as more than just Biggie’s widow.

"Dynamite" may be his most consistent long player yet, which is not to say there aren't some lows.

It's another solid and undeniably enjoyable album. But from a woman as supremely talented as Blige, somehow enjoyable rates as a disappointment.

It's genuinely sad to note that "Everything's The Rush" sounds a little too much like hard work.

He may not possess the eloquence or understated flair of a (Neil) Hannon or a (Richard) Hawley, a fact highlighted as the cheesy horn arrangement of 'Run With The Boys' sends things all a bit too Phil Collins, but most songs here play host to a charming menagerie of ideas and perhaps prove that the band dynamic he's lusted after to this point was the one thing holding him back.

There are a batch of mighty tunes here, and a sound that, while hardly de rigour, melds some of rock's freshest, brightest lights to their own street-wise, archetypal city swagger and 'Mockney' wit.

Amid such hi-octane dancefloor tracks such as this, current single 'Ready For The Floor' is, in context, pedestrian--its uncomfortable resemblance to Russ Abbot's 'Atmosphere' becoming more apparent with every listen.

A return to quieter, more familiar Eels territory.

Underpinned throughout by the kind of melancholic edge discovered on radio friendly ode to smack 'Under The Bridge', and punctuated by a spontaneous, back-to-basics feel, it's an album that sees the Chilis revitalised.

In a bid to make a startling epic work, she's concentrated on the form and neglected the content.

In a time where we could have fairly expected another state-of-the-world sermon, Dylan's thankfully stopped the overdone end-is-nigh bell-ringing that's characterised his late-period, allowing the ghosts of romances past and present to permeate Together Through Life.