This is a thoughtful, and thought-provoking, set of songs from a writer whose responses to the world around him illustrate an ever-deepening maturity, which is intriguing to chart across his four solo releases to date.

The Long Ryders should be proud--they’ve made a fine album that’s a worthy follow-up to their 80s oeuvre.

The live In Concert/MTV Plugged may lack the obvious, rambunctious energy of Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band Live/1975-85 and only (subdued) E Street favourites Darkness On The Edge Of Town and Thunder Road feature in the set, but the cheeky obscurity Red Headed Woman and an electric Atlantic City (from Nebraska) still capture Bruce’s magnetism as a performer. ... The remastered LPs sound pristine. ... It makes for a pretty boss bundle.

Despite the crossroads much of The Waterfall suggests, the band and their leader seem wholly, spiritually aligned--thrillingly so, in fact.

What remains a constant is the warm murmur of the voice delivering tales from the heart with a literary confidence few in his field can match.

Earth To Dora re-establishes Everett as one of the finest and most distinctive songwriters today – one who can make sorrow sound joyful, but who also knows that, without sadness, happiness wouldn’t be the same experience.

How Do You Burn? finds the Whigs in particularly lusty form.

Punchy, purposeful and convincingly contemporary, it’s frequently spiced-up with exhilarating examples of the band’s trademark, Television-esque guitar duels.

Those who fondly remember Goldfrapp’s early noughties primal glitterball electro-pop peak will thrill at Alison Goldfrapp’s debut solo effort.

A beautiful, haunted, haunting album; hear it.

This is a beautiful way to remember--and relive--their purity, their passion and their power.

He writes songs that could be straight out of Allen Toussaint and Dr John’s repertoire. It’s intentional--both are touchstones for the cult hero, and he uses them well, conjuring his own sound from them.

Further may not take Hawley anywhere new, but it succeeds in drawing you back into his world. Not a bad place to be.

The songs on Electric are given more opportunity to breathe and worm their way into our hearts.

Barely any light gets in during nine tracks that all sprawl over five minutes, titles such as DTM. (Dead To Me), Screamin’ Jesus and the racism-savaging Duke’s God Bar harnessing the rage Vega called an energy into seething walls of multi-tiered electronic cacophony, wailing guitars and jackhammer beats, although the closing Stars carries the underlying optimism that was also a crucial element in his work.

A Sentimental Education’s grab-bag of exquisite curios upholds a flair for the art of the cover that previously saw songs from Bonnie And Clyde to Neon Lights Lunafied, to echo the title of the band’s own 2006 covers release.

Purists may regard the project as a desecration, but the Flips could have pushed it even further with no complaints from this jury.

Though it may take several listens before you realise how comprehensively it’s seeped into your pores. It’s a subtly fetching, minor-chorded, soft-pop sepulchre, conveyed with stealth and tranquilly defocused implication, as opposed to sturm und drang.

With a warmth uncommonly found in Weber’s work, Elements Of Light emerges as a real triumph.

Most of this collection, however, offers fleeting impressions rather than signed-off, finished portraits. .... For Broadcast’s true believers, this is an essential and edifying experience, casting its own spells.

A surprisingly wide-ranging six-track EP of instrumentals providing a loving partner-piece.

Every track pulses with a live feel, but they’re all underpinned with the best elements of house, live jazz and even ambient music.

The Bowie that his fans love most--the unpredictable, courageous and cutting-edge enthusiast-- is properly back, and while this kind of intense listening experience might not trouble the current crop of massive-selling rock stars, he’s somehow a damn sight more vital than the lot of them.

There is nothing revolutionary about Cayamo but as an example of what world class performers can knock out on their holiday it can’t be beaten.

Crab Day looks set to achieve that rarely achieved goal of raising the game while keeping the faithful happy.

Howard’s voice is at its best when doing that kind of Arethra/Irma Thomas-ish stuff, and where the band uses simple dynamics, rather than density, to showcase the song.

Winningly, their wit is matched by a thrilling, fizzing set of noisy, melodic songs that ought to inspire utter devotion and soundtrack many, many summers of abandon and heartbreak.

Benefiting from Deradoorian’s ghostly vocals and Eyvand King’s orchestrations, Eucalyptus offers rich blooms wherever it roams.

An album of adroitly chosen covers and something more. Poke around in its shadows and the songs often investigate the idea of putting on a front as a kind of catharsis, their ravaged depths trawled for high drama.

All told, this engaging project shows how a geographical move can inspire a fascinating musical style, and an unexpected one to boot.

Most of the album is sterling work, with the bass alternately throbbing and growling and the beats crisp and sometimes technoid. The pair’s global influences add extra spice, only meandering into average territory on an ambient dub breather at the halfway point.

Some of the music is at the most extreme end of Jenkinson’s output, yet remains zanily accessible.

Across the album as a whole he works towards a sort of mid-world territory, between air and water, dream and reality.

Russell’s widow says her husband thought the album was his best-ever work; that will forever be open to debate, but what’s certain is that a truly great musician left this world on an undeniable high.

Originally envisioned as a nod to doo-wop, the album soon blossomed thanks to the involvement of various aides-de-camp, including Peter Buck, kd Lang and Neko Case. Yet their contributions are subtle, adding gentle harmonies and instrumental prowess to tiny, emotional epics.

Maybe after the stresses and strains of the past couple of years we need a familiar embrace to soothe away our pain. Raise The Roof fits the bill, even if it might win fewer prizes for originality than its predecessor.

Another excellent studio album of all-new material.

The voice charms at every turn, brimming with personality on what might just be the party album of the year.

The bleak lyrics are countered by a perky tempo, setting up an interesting tension. If much of the album runs on familiar, well-oiled tracks, The Waves shows what Villagers can achieve when they stretch themselves.

A well-drilled exercise in slick, sumptuous songwriting.

Though he’s undoubtedly an anachronistic anomaly whose idiosyncratic style (think Tom Waits meets Edith Piaf in a 19th Century music hall) appears out of kilter with convention, he has, nevertheless, produced an essential soundtrack to our times.

Sometimes, these songs are set to a more traditional backdrop--most notably the finger clicks and atmospherics of Sitting In The Stairwell--but for the most part, Lilies is no sonic reverse from the experimentation of Blackened Cities.

This experiment has worked better than fans could have hoped and, given the Mule’s current state of songwriting and performance, elevates this jam band to a whole new level. File under: inspired.

His music admittedly feels a little more battle-scarred nowadays, but this world-weariness fits the LP’s resigned, roots-tinged ballads Good Enough and There It Goes like a glove.

There are elements of anti-folk here, too, but as deliberately unpolished as these songs are, Kempner and band ensure that her songwriting talents aren’t muddied or obscured by it. Rather, they add to its realness, making these songs all the more powerful.

Tracks such as Psychedelic Orgasm and It’s Dark Inside embody the claustrophobic and saturnine atmosphere on what is essentially an underground hip-hop record made by an inveterate envelope-pushing postmodernist.

Here is a warm, kind album that may sag a little on the second side but has songs up there with Beam’s best. Think Teenage Fanclub’s recent Here for a similar bittersweet reunion. Mellow doubt indeed.

The original record’s improvisational nature is still here but hidden, its minimalist touches are scant.

Murry reaches their greatest heights on Wrong Man, which treats a relationship’s death as a foregone conclusion to gorgeously unfiltered effect. It’s little wonder the evocatively scraped strings and precarious piano of When God Walks In barely hold themselves together, though Murry’s capacity for clarity is equally pronounced.

The collection is likely to be remembered as a curious transitional chapter rather than placed on a pedestal alongside 2006’s meisterwerk Drum’s Not Dead. Even at its patchiest though, the sound of Andrew re-finding his feet offers greater rewards than most groups’ fully realised records of derivative blues-rock mating calls.

Subtle and understated, yet brimming with raw passion, this is songwriting at its cathartic, confessional best.

Thankfully, the three-part harmonies and irresistible melodies that lit up the debut remain ever present, exemplified here on both Memoirs Of Grey and Sweet Salvation.

Crimson/Red is self-referencing précis of his career to date, with the melodic elegance and lyrical insight we’ve come to expect but have been denied for so long.

There’s less of the superficial swagger, more mature contemplation and reflection.

For the most part, it’s hard to deny that Granduciel has succeeded in pimping his wheels for bigger journeys.

Overall Sleep Well Beast is a more subdued record that shows evidence of their solo side projects having shaped their new direction. Those who know that a new National album often requires multiple listens to fully grow and reveal its charms and nuances will have their patience rewarded, as this is a beautiful piece of work.

Hearing these oddly innocent songs (and his speaking voice) can’t help but reignite that overwhelming sense of loss, and also wonder, since Bowie passed on nearly three years ago: has any artist been so loved or missed by so many? Even with all its frolics, fumbles, filler and foibles, Conversation Piece can only be welcomed and celebrated.

Singer’s Grave works as a great record in its own right and--perhaps surprisingly, considering its gestation--could be the best starting point for those yet to explore his work.

Sequel To The Prequel’s catchy riffs also induce a sense of familiarity, making it addictive from the off.

Fujiya & Miyagi is the sound of a band no longer press darlings (see 2006’s Transparent Things), but not old enough for local festivals just yet. And it’s that tension that gives us the band’s most confident LP for ages.

Paced beautifully, a little funny, sonically on point, and with a wealth of new material for the hardcore, it continually rewards.

This is a smash-up-the-house, get drunk, pull faces kind of record. And most probably his best.

A impressively remastered album (including a new mix in the audiophile-friendly Dolby Atmos format), a decent live set. .... Remember REM any way you want, but Automatic For The People is a good if ultimately maudlin one.

A classic and classy Browne album that draws on his full repertoire of styles.

A backhanded triumph.

Tortoise may have become a little less cutting-edge in their old age, but within an area of the musical landscape which owes much to their enduring influence, they remain perennially relevant.

The unorthodox means of composition ensures that the material on ATGCLVLSSCAP feels alive; blessed with some formidable grooves it retains a freshness and zeal that might have proved elusive if it had been recorded as a conventional studio album.

Why Make Sense? is a record painted in broad strokes. There are optimistic bangers – that lead single has a scintillating build, taking the listener ever upwards, with Alexis Taylor’s falsetto laced over it; even for Hot Chip, it immediately sounds like a floor-filler. But there are also slow jams.

The cumulative impact on Mother Of The Village and Take Me Home (featuring the Beaufort Male Choir) is potent: packing robust poignancy, these lullabies for working-class pride deep-mine history with great storytelling skill, sensitivity--and, pointedly, a kick of sustained political relevance.

A mere 36 minutes in length, it’s an all-killer no-filler triumph.

Some will rhapsodise about the songs of angels, while others will feel that the most dangerous and angry superbug mutations are still found in the filthiest, most chaotic places.

This is the first new Simple Minds album in recent memory that you’ll want to keep returning to.

A deft, balanced and measured record.

There is plenty here to remind you of their previous triumphs, as well as those of similar labels such as Estrus and Crypt.

Longtime fans will be pleased to hear that not all of Exai is a mature, intellectual exploration of the possibilities of electronic music.

Power Of Peace is exactly what it is; people old enough to have long packed up this business, getting down to it, having enormous enjoyment doing it. No one would expect it to touch either artists’ greatest work, but at times, it certainly comes close.

Robyn brings an affecting vulnerability to all the performances. Whimsicality is turned down a couple of notches and the tenderness that has always underpinned his best material shines through.

Life Will See You Now won’t disappoint the devoted. Pop pleasures are myriad.

They’ve fashioned a rich and powerfully diverse record.

Trouble Maker is up there with their best.

An absolute joy of a debut.

The Ramones unwittingly started one of the biggest upheavals music will ever see. Finally we get to find out why, in the most well-realised form yet. It’s heartbreaking that none of the original band are here to see it.

The hardcore will need these and it’s hard to argue with the performances and the sound quality. Both shows find Young introducing new material from Harvest, released later that year, and beyond.

The gorgeously wistful All Of Our Yesterdays and Skyless Moon lament time’s passage, but Here Comes… barely wastes a second of its sweet, tender and winningly off-piste, high-plains drift.

Purple Mountains is no return to form – Berman left us in 2009 with no discernible lapse in quality – but a surprisingly welcome return, given the shift in quality contained herein. A purple patch, if you will, but a far deeper one than you would expect. Deep purple it is, then.

The Next Day is certainly his most engaging and intriguing since Outside. For now, that’s more than enough.

The arrangements may never veer too far from recognisable country templates, but Shaver imbues everything with great charm and wit.

The album proper finds an omnipotent Led Zep still within hailing distance of the top of their game.

A debut album that suggests anything is possible.

The emotion is so directly delivered, one is jolted by the sensation that Ms Simmons is hiding in the corridor. A wonderful record.

After the brutal old school motorik of Lights Flicker (Manning, sax and guitar dogfighting over Zappi’s hypnotic vamp) and Heron reciting over the oceanic swell of Fish, no doubts are left that Faust’s unique creative flame still burns as bright as their social conscience.

I Was Real’s resulting stew is even more disparate than what came before – this time out, you can add boogie (Tetuzi Akiyama), jigs (WZN#3 (Verso)) and pure drone to the mixer – but still with the singular vision to bring everything together into one harmonious, joyous, borderless whole.

It took several listens for the potions on Move Through The Dawn to take effect. ... Sometimes, slow burners provide the best flames.

It’s an excellent and cohesive appendix, far preferable to the hotchpotch of remixes sometimes appended to successful albums.

Shadow Of The Sun expands their palette, mushes those hues over one another and deliberately, deliciously, paints them outside the lines in a glorious mash of fuzz.

Baby Blue Abyss is a shape-changing beast. Styles vary, the approach is schizophrenic, but still the core of Baird and his scattershot mood remains.

Love Will Find A Way is very special: an ego-free celebration of the tune, the big-name guests all working with Bailey to realise his vision.

Understated is an absolute triumph, matching any of the high-water marks of his past career.