On first listen 'Harmonies For The Haunted' seems slight enough to be a collection of b-sides and discarded songs from the first album.

They seem to have recaptured a lot of the elegance and urgency that characterised the increasingly seminal 'Rings Around The World'... and the songwriting, even if it is roaming mostly uncharted territory, is back towards prime potency.

'Gold And Green' is such a joyous rattlebag of a record, so untrammelled by convention and received wisdom that it tends to make Keiran Hebden's last effort sound a bit like mid 90s stoner trip hop.

It's a mastery of creating fantastic dirges, then manipulating them into slithering beasts backed by tight drums, precise guitar scratches, and Dunis' quavering vocals that rescues 'We're Animals'.

Z's leaden voice is what really makes The Like stand out.

This is a record that brattily demands total attention, and as such, will either be lauded as a bold journey, or derided as pretentious indulgence.

If there's a snag it's not that the album exactly dips - it's just there's a lack of variation of pace, meaning it can be difficult to consume in its entirety at just one sitting. But, with a little patience, it comes alive.

KW's album can only be thought of as even remotely good while we don't have a young, hungry KRS One, RZA, Rakim Allah, Gift of Gab or Ol Dirty Bastard to challenge him.

[An] irritating abomination.

The sad thing is, even at her most mainstream, Bjork's always been truly artful, but, in this case, she's merely painted a vulgar picture.

This is a rather stronger record than [Daft Punk's] on the whole, even if it likewise suffers from flaws in execution.

An assortment of evocative instrumental journeys that warm the cockles.

With clever lyrics, batshit crazy instrumentation, and several songs you'll soon be whistling on your way to juvey, Sons and Daughters should have you leering scarily from the school bus for a good long time.

It's highly unlikely that Buck 65 is ever going to become the cash cow that his paymasters probably thought he was going to be, but let's hope that he is invited to keep on presenting us with his skewed worldview; a beautiful painting seen in a shattered and blood stained mirror.

If there's a quibble, 'Honeycomb' does lack variation of pace. Though it doesn't matter when the tunes are as consistently as good as 'Sing for Joy'.

If you are the sort of person who thinks of cannabis in terms of how much you smoke a day rather than how much you smoke in a month or a year, then you are going to like this album very much indeed.

Sophomore set of the century, near enough.

You'd probably want Missy to wash her hands before she got anywhere near a real kitchen if this album is anything to go by. The perv.

[A] confusing but entertainingly eccentric package.

'Multiply' sees the flavours of Al Green, Curtis Mayfield, Prince and Sly Stone twisted into 2005 with subtly inventive touches and modern production suss.

So once you get behind the relatively unobstructive and emotive voice, what you have is the sound of NYC circa '77 pushed through the ramshackle indie filter.

A great release from a great new talent, Kano has the words and the beats to deliver.

It's a warm and welcoming experience all round, and very much the mark of a band that know exactly what they're doing even if they sound remarkably out of step with everyone else.

This bears the same relationship to pop music that wallpaper paste does to food.

'In Your Honour' is as rancid and moribund and as redundant of ideas as it is possible to be.

This album is sublime.

As with other really good bands in this genre (such as Franz Ferdinand and Interpol) it transcends being just a mere mash of influences.

There is no doubt [Martin] has talent, but there are just too many retreads, too many regurgitated ideas, and no fire, no raw anger, no big hairy bollocks.