"Supernature" is the rarest of records - one which arrives late in the life span of a genre but defines it so completely and perfectly that a full stop can be placed right there.

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.

Furious techno stomps and mellow streamlined electronica clash head on with Karl Hyde's often nonsensical vocal style, pushing the group forward yet sticking close to their original blueprint.

A perfectly contemporary hip-hop release rescued from the ashes of independent hip-hop cliche.

It's truly intriguing in the way PJ albums haven't been since the commanding "To Bring You My Love" back in 1995.

'Is A Woman' is a deep, rewarding, frustrating, baffling, engaging experience then, an album that drifts away from you just when you're getting hold of it.

With Truelove's Gutter, Hawley stands at the other side of his beloved city's bridge, leading the charge for the welcome return of pop that demands your full attention to get the best out of it.

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.'

With each offering clocking in around the two minute mark, 'I Will Be' is over almost as soon as it's begun - leaving behind a smouldering trail of hazy mysticism and filthy bass lines. It's short and sweet, but there's a definite sting in the tail.

By narrowing their range and increasing their focus, and by wearing their hearts on their sleeves and not smirks on their faces, they may just have released their first, confidently Hot Chip record. And that turns out to be something rather wonderful.

Steele's self-conscious attempts to create a legend for himself only distract from what is actually a very good album.

"Wincing The Night Away" shows The Shins as fleet-footed and supremely confident, their slightly off-beat sensibility happily uncompromised by its (newly) gleaming production and overall panoramic bigness.

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.

The album lacks the flab of previous efforts and, where he's been guilty of hiding behind guests before, the contributions are (perhaps inadvisably in retrospect) kept to a minimum. Sadly though, the grandstanding and chest beating take their toll on both Graduation's aesthetic and the listener's patience.

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.

It's a rich, bright, clever and engaging album that should trash those lame prejudices against Belle & Sebastian once and for all.

While Popular Songs may contain few surprises for long-term admirers, it is nonetheless a contrary beast in that it demands to be heard in a single, complete sitting.

If you're not a fan of their weighty retro riffs, Into The Future is not going to sway you; but those who loved their self-titled debut will thrill to the darker, more convincing sounds of former single 'Stormy High' with its Plantish wails and solid Sabbathy riffs.

Not only does it contain Green Day’s finest songs (and choruses) to date... but it also scratches at the surface of political dissatisfaction with nails sharp enough to leave a nasty scar.

Weller fans can once again breathe a sigh of relief, for the man's still got it.

Imagine an album programmed by a focus group of John Peel fanatics.

The brothers keep it tight though, allowing themselves room to manoeuvre and muck about with time signatures and effects, but within the confines of songs that rarely exceed four minutes.

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?

"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.

Neither Callahan's trademark poetic gloom nor his even-keel misanthropy have been ditched in time for 'Supper', but it does see him breathing deeper than before and moving with a surprising spring in his step away from the claustrophobic intensity of his previous work.

This is rock with a big fat drunken grin scrawled over its face in lurid red lipstick.

Definitely in the hat for album of the year.

All We Could Do Was Sing does exactly what it say on the tin - an astonishing album, rich in storytelling and fables; woven with 11 brilliant songs by a band apparently driven by nothing more than the sheer love of performing.