These recordings may not have the cultural significance of his 60s classics, but he is on terrific form.

Contains some of this year's most original and moving songwriting, and displays a breathtaking virtuosity and inventiveness on the part of its creator.

Butler has produced Old Wow like a soul record, full of space and warmth.

The concept of realness underpins hip-hop; the fearless, whipsmart talent of Angel Haze brings you face-to-face with the resonant reality of it.

Idealism packs in more memorable riffs and tunes than the recent Bloc Party and Futureheads albums put together.

In full flight of one of their frequent psychedelic crescendos, Dead Meadow are among rock's most eloquently deafening joys.

Holmes' decision to debut his own breathy, vulnerable vocals enhances the dusky intimacy: the bewitching sense of a previously elusive producer venturing something of himself.

The 10 songs last barely 25 minutes, but in that pared-back simplicity every melody and bass thrum and poetic image counts.

The 71-year-old singer’s tales of youthful “racing down the Bowery” are wonderfully evocative, as Blondie rediscover their Midas touch.

These are songs to lose yourself in; a paradise of loveliness that suggests Hannibal and Milosh won't be remaining anonymous much longer.

Lump is brief, but Marling’s gorgeously uncanny melodies--which, like Lindsay’s synth sounds, have an other-timely quality--are dazzling enough to linger indefinitely.

Black Up, their full-length debut, connects black consciousness with the dark mysteries of deep space, synthesising tribal drums, kalimba and African inflections with fragmented beats and eerie, futuristic synths.

These ELO/10cc-style mid-tempo rockers step up to the crease with the languid confidence of a suitably refreshed Australian batsman ready to hit the ball out of the ground.

Her flow has the freewheeling energy of the battle freestyle, and often forgoes narrative in favour of a stream of boastful non-sequiturs about Mortal Kombat and Blue’s Clues, but, through sheer force of charisma, her blunt edges still cause major damage. Tracks like Brujas and GOAT are equally arresting, though, for their sharper, steelier focus.

The album's standouts, however, are the two collaborations with Tirzah, whose understated vocals fit perfectly with Tricky's unnerving instrumentation and help to reveal an artist who's still capable of surprising, disturbing and revelling in his own idiosyncracies.

It ends up that most unusual of things, a stadium rock album with a personality of its own.

The album’s pleasures are many. It’s hard to go wrong with good musicians and great songs. On Versatile, Morrison serves the lyrics where he needs to (I Get a Kick Out of You), and breathes unexpected life into songs sullied by ubiquity (Unchained Melody).

The lo-fi has gone large-scale, each song slowly unfurling to reveal dense, dreamy rhythms, choirs of silky voices and opulent melodies rich in atmospherics.

Some might feel the arched eyebrows undermine the sincerity, but either way, this is a recording with its fair share of memorable music.

Songs about depression, society and the environment sound euphoric, with elements of 80s synth pop and 90s fuzz and the racing tempos only slowing slightly for evocative closer Avalanche Alley.

Like all the best instrumental music, it's evocative stuff: the trio's multi-layered blend of vintage synths, skittering beats and crashing post-rock instrumentation keeps your mind's eye busy with images of futuristic cityscapes, gallant space troopers and, on the riotous title track, Jean Michel Jarre and Vangelis teaming up to battle Rage Against the Machine for sonic supremacy.

This album should continue the process, while providing a reminder that Dempsey's musical heroes are now also his admirers.

He strays further still from country’s core sound, replacing the pedal steel and banjo with flutes, saxophones and acoustic guitar. By doing this, and choosing deep cuts rather than hits like Okie From Muskegee, he universalises a music that is still overlooked by many listeners, and in some cases arguably improves it.

One of the most understated and charming albums of the year.

It may have been exhausting and painful to put down on record, but listening to it is anything but.

The songwriting paints in broader strokes than the hyper-specific character studies of the debut. What the Annies lose there they gain in fuller, more ambitious arrangements.

It's such a nuanced album that it can feel undemonstrative, with even the choruses lacking impact--but that, too, typifies a place where nothing is what it first seems.

Welch writes fine, timeless melodies, and her mostly gloomy lyrics are performed in suitably mournful, no-nonsense style.