He has humour and cerebral sharpness in spades.

'Playing the Angel' is hardly the most essential Depeche Mode album ever, but it is Depeche Mode doing what they do best.

What's great about this album is they've managed to wield the same monolithic power riffs but make them count, with melodies and ideas way more consistent than before.

'Cassadaga' is much less of a draining emotional journey for both chief player and listener alike than Bright Eyes previous work.

They've got better stuff in them, we believe, but, meanwhile, 'The Power Out''s strictly a forty watt affair.

What once felt like maverick defiance on the part of the 'Shop now leaves them looking directionless, with Tjinder sounding increasingly like an unattractive combination of smugness and bitterness.

There simply aren't enough superlatives to describe the genius of his music.

Few albums are this evocative, and 'Leaders of the Free World' is a thing of rare beauty indeed.

Great pop from a great band.

Essentially, 'Employment' is a very British record; an entirely Britpop creation spawned ten years after the event.

It's Emiliana Torrini, Cat Power and Nick Drake all rolled into one, and it's soothing enough to curl up and die for.

It's an obvious comparison given the company they keep, but, this time around, Aereogramme really are Mogwai and The Delgados on the same record.

Although pretty catchy, this album is a tad too monotonous.

Up there with the best debut albums of this, or any decade.

This could be Modest Mouse's finest hour were it not a little long - the nuances are occasionally rather swamped by the effort of listening to the hour-long record through.

He doesn't plunder, he interweaves - stuff gets thoroughly snake-charmed into his densely-packed music.

There are moments of brilliance here, sure... but there are a few too many weak skits and a few too many weak tracks here to make this anything other than a mildly cool summer thang, and summer is, like totally over now.

This is a standout record even by his high standards.

It’s like this: ‘Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers’ sounds like every record ever made, somewhere along the line.

They seem to have recaptured a lot of the elegance and urgency that characterised the increasingly seminal 'Rings Around The World'... and the songwriting, even if it is roaming mostly uncharted territory, is back towards prime potency.

Yes, it's a shamelessly arch and overarching achievement, and, make no mistake, some of you out there will hate this record and want to have at it with badly corroded screwdrivers.

Even Paul McCartney himself hasn't made an album this McCartneyish for some twenty-odd years now.

FC Kahuna have aimed scandalously high with this record, and they've not been found wanting.

It's a move on from 'Here Be Monsters', musically if not lyrically, and, for all his world-weary posturing, he's still only 25 for God's sake, though obviously in love with the idea of being a great singer songwriter.

It’s improbably refreshing to hear musicians that were clearly weaned on Frank Zappa, Supertramp and ELO messing things up and having a laugh.

With clever lyrics, batshit crazy instrumentation, and several songs you'll soon be whistling on your way to juvey, Sons and Daughters should have you leering scarily from the school bus for a good long time.

Gris Gris' practice of bleeding their songs together in dissonance creates a roller coaster that renders 'For The Season' over before you've really realised it's begun.

Cex played with Mogwai last year, and the experience seems to have had a profound effect on him. The best moments of the late nineties Scottish post-rock explosion seem apparent here, and there are even hints at prime Arab Strap, which is of course quite brilliant.