The album is imbued with a post-9/11 dread, which deters Fagen from recycling the nostalgia and Lynchian fantasy of his previous albums.

These are beautiful songs, as delicate as they are rocking and heavy.

The Drift is a record that demands a lot of work and repays tenfold.

You would call Drew the most exciting rapper Britain has produced since Dizzee Rascal, if that didn't sound like such faint praise.

The female Mike Skinner? She's far, far better than that.

This is an African classic.

The Hold Steady couldn't sound less fashionable if they set up a branch of C&A, but their bar-room rock - all power chords and fist-pumping choruses - is a perfect, if counter intuitive accompaniment to Finn's downbeat tales.

The Dears have never sounded so comfortable in their own skin.

It may well be the most off-putting album released this year. After playing it, there seems every chance it is the also the most astonishing.

An idiosyncratic triumph.

There's not an ounce of fat here. What's left reaffirms the Neptunes' credentials as fearless sonic innovators - eradicating the memory of Pharrell Williams' underwhelming recent solo album at a stroke - and fast-tracks Clipse into the pantheon of great rap lyricists.

What makes Williams such an important country artist, besides the excellent songwriting and that sultry, scarred southern voice, is her skill at stretching the genre's boundaries while mining its essence.

This is dance-rock for grown-ups: extraordinary.

The band bolster their indie credentials by touching on everything from Joe Meek (Thunderclaps) to the B-52s (She Is the New Thing) and the Fall (Excellent Choice).

The way repeated listens allow its unobvious rhythmic and melodic logic to take root is fantastically rewarding.

Full of the kind of bathetic genius English pop used to excel in, Art Brut are life-affirming - and are worth 500 of almost every other new guitar band.

This is one of the most brilliantly gloomy albums in his long career.

The most heartening thing about In Rainbows, besides the fact that it may represent the strongest collection of songs Radiohead have assembled for a decade, is that it ventures into new emotional territories.

Pop is rarely as genuinely affecting, joyful or good as this.

As addictive as its predecessor, Untrue confirms that Burial possesses not just the keen ear of a Lee Perry or Martin Hannett.

It's gorgeous from start to finish.

Each listen to New Amerykah brings fresh rewards: it demands to be explored.

It's hilarious, chilling and exhilarating: further evidence of the unique and enviable position Cave finds himself in at 50.

Portishead's third album is initially more a record to admire than to love, its muscular synthesisers, drum breaks and abrupt endings keeping the tension high. But after several listens, Third's majesty unfurls.

Boo!, their first album for 16 years, is well up to the standard of classics such as "What Up Dog?" and "Are You Okay?"

It all adds up to a landmark in American music, an instant classic.

Intimate, intense and beautiful, You & Me demands repeat plays and the Walkmen deserve a new respect.

Fantasy Black Channel is the most thrilling British debut of the year for its spirit of invention, its surfeit of ideas and its ear for a good tune.