Take one listen to the title track, accept that it's the greatest pure pop single of the year and everything you wanted from the Klaxons and didn't get, and you'll be seduced into wanting to believe that Midnight Juggernauts know what they're doing.

This is intoxicating psych-indie for heady days in unbroken sunshine.

With neither the sugar rush of "Hot Fuss" nor the blustery thrills of "Sam's Town," this is the Killers' most beguilingly strange record. As an accurate reflection of its frontman, it succeeds handsomely.

This album will make your life considerably better.

I Know You're Married... is a sure-footed, emotionally engaging step up the ladder.

A wonderful record that is flawed - that'll be those flatulent synths again - but by design.

A truly original, innovative, heavy-as-hell, interesting heavy metal record that you can listen to more than twice without wanting to smash it to a million pieces with an axe.

If this all sounds a bit heavy going, Crack the Skye offers plenty of simple pleasures as Mastodon heap on the musical melodrama, with a more-is-more approach to fretwork that's bound to see them liven up moshpits when they support Metallica this summer.

Terius "The Dream" Nash is the song-writer behind Rihanna's Umbrella and other more intriguing than average R&B hits. His second album continues the theme, with assistance from Kanye West.

True to form, this third record pootles around before, ultimately, achieving lift-off.

That it lacks any obvious singles hardly seems to matter. Viva La Vida is an assured return that should go some way to restoring Coldplays wilted critical stock.

It starts out inchoate and hard to put your finger on, then coalesces into something wiry and unshakable.

It would be disappointing if this turned out to be the best debut album of 2007 - there's nothing particularly original here - but Hats Off to the Buskers is nonetheless a record that re-energises melodic guitar music in the most irresistible fashion, recalling the euphoric punch of Oasis' Definitely Maybe or the Strokes' Is This It as it does so.

Tankian has always got one more surprise up his sleeve. But his scatter-shot approach does not detract from the acuity of his polemical insights

Happily, Slipknot can pull in these directions and still maintain a new standard of bone-crunching intensity . There are louder metal bands in the world, for sure, but the Iowan nine-piece continue to make the most noise.

Forget hi-life vibes: this psychedelic trip takes you from Jo'Burg to Brooklyn and way, way beyond.

It is also a sound that on this, their fifth album, seems as resistant to change as the forces of nature and while seemingly limited in palette, is as expansive as it is inventive.

This live double album, recorded in July 1998, offers another take on those great songs.

[It has] an unexpected depth, unity and resonance.

Beck, at last, is back.

If we are going to go, the magnificently mournful title track of this EP may as well be the soundtrack.

Not just a dignified salute to an absent friend, but a cracking album in its own right.

A warmer, more linear record than their debut... Spellbinding, frustrating, wonderful.

White Denim somehow manage to cover all points of the musical compass without ever losing their overall sense of direction.

Far from venturing further into the polyrhythmic interior, four long tracks find him drawing closer to techno's primal pulse, until celestial finale 'Wing Body Wing' squares the Afro/Detroit circle with a single dramatic power-chord.

By the time he closes with fittingly open-ended encores of 'Listen to the Lion' and 'Summertime in England'--neither of which is on Astral Weeks--he is truly gone. And in a triumph as unlikely as it is complete, Astral Weeks is reborn.

Fantasy Black Channel is a tour de force comprising glam, techno, and rave, all of which he twists into unimaginable shapes.

A perfectly summery blend of Krautrock, prog rock and more danceable grooves.