Med sud I eyrum ... is a beautiful collection that blows Sigur Rós beyond the place they come from, geographically and musically.

It's an album likely to confound and alienate, but its nooks are home to a rugged kookiness that no one but RZA could pull off.

One of the most exciting things about White Denim is the way they balance unfettered extravagance with constructive constriction.

That it lacks any obvious singles hardly seems to matter. Viva La Vida is an assured return that should go some way to restoring Coldplays wilted critical stock.

Adding a plaintive beauty and combining it with coke-ravaged, mid-Seventies, Spector-ish AOR and some playful studio trickery, the album is a raw, introspective and melancholic delight.

Wry, understated and occasionally heroically sorry for itself, his fourth--and best--album mixes folk, pop, country and rock to superb effect.

Forget her peers or even ex-Eurythmics - think Dusty or Aretha, albeit of SW2, instead. 19 has been on constant repeat for several weeks now and will be, I suspect, for the rest of the year to come.

The result, typified by the rousing 'Oh! Vanity' and emotive 'This is the End', is a melodic and hard-fought triumph.

I Know You're Married... is a sure-footed, emotionally engaging step up the ladder.

Now, 35 years on, her voice is as resonant, lachrymose and strong as ever.

Eighteen months touring and producing themselves at home have toughened the bands sound. And broadened it.

It's much darker, more contemplative territory; the songs are like intimate nocturnes located somewhere between classical and soul.

Her voice, dark, nuanced and full of mystery, shows what a class act the singer has become.

It's an inventive reimagining of hip hop with huge basslines underpinning the otherwise cinematic atmosphere.

The synth-punk shout-pop of this boy/girl duo was cobbled together in a Salford arts complex for a budget of zero pence. And--in a totally great way--it sounds like it.

While it's debatable whether the Cool Kids alone can restore hip hop to its former glories, there's no doubt that the Chicago-based duo (Chuck English and Mikey Rocks) are a breath of fresh air.

True to form, this third record pootles around before, ultimately, achieving lift-off.

This Is Alphabeat feels like the story of a band having embarked on an ambitious experiment in classic pop, having pulled it off, and having turned in something of a modern pop masterpiece to boot.

Stunning in places ('I'm Wild About You'), pedestrian in others, the song remains the same, which is achievement enough at Al's age.

Her new dance album – her 11th – is a brilliant collaboration with the likes of Basement Jaxx and the Scum Frog.

Take one listen to the title track, accept that it's the greatest pure pop single of the year and everything you wanted from the Klaxons and didn't get, and you'll be seduced into wanting to believe that Midnight Juggernauts know what they're doing.

It's a bravely eccentric selection and a captivating homage to a singular writer.

Rockferry is a fantastic album of burning blue soul.

While Narrow Stairs may scale down the melody-assaults of previous efforts, with their fresh groove and whiff of rebellion, Death Cab announce themselves as genuine rock stars.

It's a stunning record, a must-have even, but it fails to turn musical excellence into cultural significance and may end up being played in branches of Borders rather than in bedrooms everywhere.

This is easily Costello's most instinctive, least self-conscious record of original songs in over a decade.

Far from venturing further into the polyrhythmic interior, four long tracks find him drawing closer to techno's primal pulse, until celestial finale 'Wing Body Wing' squares the Afro/Detroit circle with a single dramatic power-chord.

The songs are deeper and richer than on 2006's "12 Songs," but still naked and raw.