It's about the best a studio grime album can be.

It might be easy to criticise 'Those The Brokes' as a stab at busting through into the MOR mainstream, but it's fairer to see it as The Magic Numbers developing their expression while staying faithful to their core sound, and quiet charm.

This album is fucking brilliant – it made me want to cut my hair, paint the ceiling, fuck the postman and burn the disco down. So I did. Then I curled up in a corner, cried, and shat myself.

The band have colonised the rich turf at the intersection of meticulously structured mope-rock and free-flowing three-chord pop, where moments of resignation cosy up alongside twinkling hopes for the future like Winehouse to the sauce.

They've totally nailed it.

Yes, it's the relentless energy, humour and versatility which makes this record stand out and apparently their albums are merely incidental compared to their stunning live shows.

The album is closer to the thrash end of their style then the folk, and the music reflects the anger in the songs brilliantly.

As White Stripes albums go, 'Icky Thump' is a goodie, and there's no resting on of laurels either.

One trick pony's they may arguably be, but they've done the same trick twice and pulled it off.

The good news is that for a bunch of brats they're well in control of the complex, riddling, labyrinthine structures that go toward making the perfect pop punk songs.

Thankfully, it's even better than expected.

Anyone expecting any of the more experimental tangential qualities of the German group will be disappointed, as will anyone expecting intense lyrical workouts from Smith. Instead we have an extremely convincing whistlestop tour round current electronic music with a partially deranged, completely eccentric lexicographer raving brilliantly over the top.

There's nothing quite as immediate or fantastic as 'Disposable Teens' here, but the album on the whole is a triumph.

Well as befits such a completely uncompromising visionary/awkward pain in the arse (delete one if you can be bothered) it veers between the preposterously awful 'Genuine Lullabelle' with its bewildering spoken word passages and the awesome wire taut assault of 'Be Prepared'.

This is not just an album that can be appreciated by fans of the avant-garde, pop and rock alike but a genuine fuck you to the people claiming modern music has nowhere left to go.

This is classic timeless pop.

Their brilliance lies in writing the crassest, most obvious, lowbrow hooks.

As good as 'Tio Bitar' is, it's actually a weaker album than 'Ta Det Lungt' in some respects.

One of the finest albums of the year.

It's in the vein of 'Debut' in terms of songwriting but there are a lot more samples of foghorns on this record.

The confident arrangements throughout 'No Shouts, No Calls' are the finest Electrelane have yet committed to tape.

Lyrically, it's astounding as ever.

'Everything Last Winter' is a record by a band blithely unconcerned about any perceptions of cool.

Akin to Bowie's 'Hunky Dory', in its senseless but brilliant eclecticism.

Rabid Dinosaur Jr fans will find plenty here to enjoy.

Unassuming, unpretentious and totally listenable too, this is thirteen songs and fifty minutes that might just make her famous.

'5:55' is a welcome addition to the Gainsbourg family's musical legacy, and we can't give any higher compliment than that.

Anyone expecting something similar to his early doom-laden musings will find nothing of the sort here.