Refreshingly repetitive. We love you too, Bear In Heaven.

A strange, interesting, occasionally brilliant album.

These are songs that flinch as much as they fight, that veer wildly into strange territories but never overindulge and that, essentially, draw all of the best bits from Coxon's weird and wonderful arsenal into one inimitable package.

There's value in finding their [remixers] take on Nick Cave's already unique sound.

These are tracks made for the pub, to be bawled to with beating hearts and swollen lungs. Get involved.

It may be a skip away from the processes they know best but, in 'In Time To Voices', Blood Red Shoes find fresh invention.

Provides far more ecstasy than agony.

Their narratives have been stronger before, but 'Noctourniquet' remains abject absurdity masquerading as sexy heroism.

A coy, slow burner, it doesn't kick off properly until its latter stages.

An accomplished, repeatable debut.

Saxophone solos! Samples that may or may not be from the Sugarhill Gang! The EastEnders theme tune sung in the style of Boyz II Men!

A who's who of re-mixers have been cast for the job, and there's value in finding their take on Nick Cave's already unique sound.

Expansive, orchestral and delicate, its beauty [the band's music] is totally deserving of another round of critical acclaim.

A refreshingly innovative take on the decade [the 80's], and though it occasionally lacks a little heart, 'Interstellar' at least pushes Rose's talents in an impressive and unexpected direction.

Most of the tracks are about as blank and sterile as an airport terminal.

'Port Of Morrow' is a glorious and confident return, even if it lacks a little darkness at times.

Spoek Mathambo's mixture of rapid rhymes and genre-melding combining thrillingly.

Sadly, Siberia is lacking any genuine spark.

The Jezabels are so nearly there on 'Prisoner'– they just to focus.

To say Michael Kiwanuka's debut is not the most modern-sounding album would be an elephant-sized understatement.

[An] intense, skeletal, and actually-rather-dreary debut.

[Zoo will piss you off if you think] their Fugaziish formative albums are sacrosanct and that any deviation voids them in the eyes of The Living Christ Our Lord Henry Rollins. Two, you hate loud noises.

'Visions' is a cornucopia of Claire Boucher's most vivid waking dreams. Gripping, then, but also as intangible as the prevailing dread of a forgotten nightmare.

While Dry The River stick resolutely--and somewhat predictably--to their 'start quiet, build to a stomping ending' mantra throughout, Shallow Bed is an uplifting debut.

The Clearing is a subtle, expansive work.

The tenth Magnetic Fields album sees Stephin Merrit returning to both form and familiar territory.

Truly special.

Both bewitching and berserk, Featherbrain keeps its creator comfortably in the shadows.

It's sentimental in places, but it also marks the 24-year-old out as one of the most exciting new producers around.

On NZCA/Lines, he achieves his goal [to make 2012 sexy], slipping from slick pop that transforms the mundane into sheer seductiveness ('Okinawa Channels'), to monastic barbershop harmonies ('AM Travel Approach').

Jamie Stewart's most preposterously tremulous and knuckle-whiteningly transgressive work.

Ghostory is as potent and decadent as School Of Seven Bells have ever been.

There's a nagging sense of melancholy throughout that gives these tracks a compelling and slightly haunting quality.

Fine, intelligent and, at times, thoroughly heart-warming--but you've got to work for it.

It's a startling beginning, but it's followed by eight equally mesmerising, if altogether different, songs.

Its Yeasayer-aping can seem too familiar at times, but on the whole Young Magic's debut is a beguiling brain-burp of a listen.

With the wind still in their sails, Tennis have smashed another winner.

Tear-stained and unsettled it may be, but the second chapter of Perfume Genius' flamboyant, disturbing story is uniquely compelling.

Altogether, it's an insipid assault of dribbly, sub-Billie Piper pop sludge.

Sledgehammer riff-filled rock doesn't need to be clever, but it sure as heck needs to sound like it's driven by full-pelt, carnage-causing energy. And that's where Band Of Skulls' second effort falls short.

When the wrecking ball stops swinging, however, there are moments of emotional weightiness ('Leader Of The Pack') and glimpses of tenderness ('End Of The Line') that give this LP a more human edge.

Social commentary ('Blaze Up A Fire'), emotional nudity ('Elephant') and confessional bravery ('Angel Wings') illuminate a warm, honest album.

There are moments of weightlessness and beauty here.

Though the grappling guitars of 'Riot In My House' wouldn't seem out of place on an MC5 album, Blues Funeral doesn't always kick out the jams.

Some way off a breakthrough they may be, but they're still a chilling thrill for those unafraid of the dark.

Forget hidden depths, Plumb exposes every inch of the Brewises' brilliance.

A peculiar unwillingness to climax is something that many Shearwater records have suffered with over the years, and Animal Joy is unfortunately no exception.

At just eight songs, doesn't stick around long enough to outstay its welcome.

Born To Die may ultimately prove too-blinkered a vision to fully appeal to the Sheeran-loving public in the long run, but Lana has certainly proved that she's not just here to play games.

Be Strong is funny, innovative, uplifting and, most importantly, always fun.

Smart guys, smart record.

Something's exquisite charms confirm that Chairlift mk.II are a much-improved proposition.

The resulting collection of campfire singalongs proving nothing short of magical.

Prepare to swoon.

If he'd shown us a little more, MU.ZZ.LE would be altogether more satisfying, but that's just not Gonjasufi's style.

It's largely uninspired and generic dance music, all industrialised dystopia and insouciant dehumanisation, making U&I an often prosaic return.

Form And Control is a pleasant enough offering, but there's nothing phenomenal on show here.

Mis-steps like the sticky Santana-worship on 'Hanuman' are far less palatable, but when the combinations match up, it proves exactly how impressive this band have become.

America Give Up proves them to be far more exciting than a mere second generation rip-off.

Ecstatic, raucous, spine-tingling and delivered in the only way they know, Baby is a piece of Tribes for their devoted followers to hold onto.

Generally Moonfire is an album big on melody, heart and hooks.

Casiokids received a one million Kroner grant from fellow Nordmenn A-ha for musical potential....A-ha can consider their money well spent.

Disenchantment should always be this spellbinding.

It's the inconsistency of Future This--particularly the band's newfound tenderness vs. Their miscalculated explosions of noise--that make it a largely baffling listen.

Glowing Mouth is as emotionally jolting and cosily reassuring as a night in with a David attenborough boxset.

Ester is very much an individualist work.

Not exactly champion wordsmiths, then, but the ebulliently heart-warming rush of the tunes is reason enough to forgive any clunkers.