Masters at building tension upon tension then gently letting it go, their cyclical instrumentals are both sorrowful and consoling.

Euphoric, feelgood electro-pop of the indie rather than chart-topping persuasion, with the Massachusetts quartet's debut substituting lost-boy yearning for outright hedonism.

The result is a flawless (post)modernisation of heartland rock that wears its lovelorn pessimism proudly on its ruffled sleeve.

One of the most surprising and magical records for which Damon Albarn has ever been responsible.

Eschewing the Incredible String Band nostalgia of Espers et al for a more complex hybrid somewhere between the Kinks at their most relaxed and the Band at their most committed, Vetiver have made a record that's as summery as a field full of butterflies.

The angry funk of 'Down in Mississippi' proves too good to last, but only 'We Shall Not Be Moved' is (predictably) dull.

Chicago's veteran alt-rockers haven't sounded this much fun in ages, their seventh album balancing their easy-going and experimental sides.

Where fellow Aussie pasticheurs the Vines get more depressing the more they manage to sound like Nirvana, listening to Wolfmother's hilarious attempt to board the long-departed cock-rock bandwagon - singing 'She's a woman, you know what I mean!' as if they have never seen a woman, let alone touched one - is actually quite fun.

Hypnotic repetition, mysterious soundscapes and recurring lyrical codes render this debut utterly engrossing and totally essential.

Continues where 2007's sprightly comeback album "Beyond" left off.

There's an intriguing synthetic wheeze lurking in the upper reaches of Jackson's vocal range. Those who feared this effect might pall over a whole album will find solace in the unexpected emotional intensity of her lower register.

It's much darker, more contemplative territory; the songs are like intimate nocturnes located somewhere between classical and soul.

And yet, as is often the case with music crafted solely in the key of strife, the result is bizarrely life-enhancing, chiefly thanks to the head-spinning fashion in which Gnarls condense 40 years of rock'n'roll into one seamless psychedelic whole.

There isn't a duff or thoughtless moment.

There's the odd jarring note but Bare Bones remains a work of high class, deep feeling and, let's not forget, magical singing.

Easy Tiger is his most rounded creation.

After nine albums the Nashville oddball's parade of styles has dissolved into ambient noodling.

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

Ultimately, there is something refreshing about MGMT's lack of cynicism and the winning way in which they fuse hippy and punk ideals.

Slime & Reason, then, is yet another gutsy work from a deeply honest artist.

The banjos and root-tootin' bass might seem overly reverential but there's something comforting in her landscapes of small-town America.

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

Something a bit crunchier that's been boiled up with producer Josh Homme in the Mojave Desert, but with the sweetener of Alex Turner's words.

Although it's as uncentred as 2004's "Uh Huh Her," this album broadcasts confidence rather than confusion.

The lyrics lack focus at times but this is a winning debut.

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

Lunatico won't alienate fans by having evolved too fast, nor disappoint by excessively rehashing old themes.

Although they are more focused on Ten Silver Drops, they also sound more reined-in and less idiosyncratic.