In places <i>An End Has a Start</i> is bleakly compelling; nevertheless, great swathes of the record strain towards a pasty arena-rock future.

Probably a track or two short of being a stone-cold classic, Our Love To Admire nonetheless makes for hugely rewarding listening.

A sparkling return to form for a band regarded by many as the great lost hope of the early ‘90s.

Jason Isbell, formerly of the Drive By Truckers, releases a solid, sad, gritty new album as a solo artist.

It would appear that working-class Coventry trio The Enemy are now officially the next big thing.

Velvet Revolver are a formidable collection of important figures from 80’s and 90’s hard rock, and this strong mixture of personalities lends their music a certain charisma, even when it isn’t particularly accomplished.

Twilight Of The Innocents re-announces the group's commitment to melody and proves they have successfully re-ignited their creative spark.

With their very different moods, the ‘London’ and ‘Dublin Sessions’ respectively nourish two different aspects of spiritual longing: the soul’s yearning for a sense of reverence and awe, and its equal need for spiritual intimacy, comfort and familiarity.

This is a surprisingly enjoyable outing as these things go.

Although the sound of 30 people making music is always going to have an uplifting edge to it, the songs here are less self-consciously happy-clappy than before.

Icky Thump is freighted with moments of frazzled virtuosity yet may prove excessively outre for most palettes.

If Lullabies To Paralyze was a strange forest fairytale dusted with desert blues courtesy of Billy Gibbons, Era Vulgaris finds the band holed up in an abandoned funkhouse in the centre of a shady copse, waiting for some strange sexually-contracted fever to pass.

Missing, thankfully, are the twee Paulie-isms that often insult our intelligence, making Memory Almost Full that rare thing, a modern-day Paul McCartney you can listen to without wincing.

The mangled electronic hailstorm is unrelenting, but it is also perversely enjoyable and infectious.

It’s a bold, ambitious statement from a techno producer keen to expand his range watch this space.

Never a dull moment then, but a little consistency would go a long way for The Used.

Strange House is actually an intriguingly intelligent debut.

It’s as warm and forgiving and generously tender a collection of songs as you’ll hear all year.

Despite their disparate origins this is no hotchpotch of leftovers and out-takes.

The Boy With No Name has a handful of absolute crackers, proving that Travis are still capable of penning a tune that wraps its tendrils around your ears and won’t let go until at least four minutes have passed.

Jack the volume up and let Fields suck the air from your lungs.

But so what if The Magic Position ends up creaking slightly under the weight of its own ambition – surely that’s better than settling for the norm?

Imagine an amalgam of The White Album, The Kick Inside and Professor Longhair, all conceived as an off-Broadway extravaganza directed by Julie Taymor.

What’s most remarkable about the record is its incredible level of musical cohesion – it’s like the trio never stopped playing together.

The record goes some way towards capturing the heaviness of that band’s live performances.

Sensuous showcases a more playful Cornelius than we’ve seen before.

A boisterous and bratty collection of hook-swamped shout-alongs.

The group have kept their sound surprisingly fresh incorporating some welcome sonic refinements, without making any great creative leap or departure.