‘Margarine Eclipse’ manages to be generous in length without ever finding itself repetitive, doodles are never allowed to become noodles, understated charm is maintained throughout.

This is an album that seethes with anger, ambition and malicious intent, and it's all the better for it.

Sigur Ros do this better than anyone else right now.

Yes, 'Let's Get Out Of This Country' is a ludicrously fey, coy, twee and light record that could very feasibly be knocked out by an injured butterfly, it's that gentle. But it's also a gorgeously produced, beautifully romantic and ultimately uplifting record.

Songs that shamble along in the gutter but can still bite your ankles if pushed.

‘America’s Sweetheart’ throbs, chugs, thunders, blasts, romps, rants and rocks.

One of the most witty, ambitious and intelligent British guitar albums thus far in 2005.

As far as style and technique go, it's more of the same; quite literally MORE. 'Kish-Kash'? Mish-mash: Basement Jaxx make dancefloor monsters, Frankenstein's monster stylee.

Delicately layered with ornate instrumentation and hushed vocals, perfectly poised between joyful and damaged, 'Personality' sees off the previously over-obvious obsession with America's dizzy expanses and endless horizons, instead offering something infinitely more natural and personal.

Keep giving it a whirl though and it becomes something rather exquisite.

From its downbeat organ opening to its exhilarating climax, it's almost the sound of a garage band taking on 70s prog-rock excess - all the ambition and none of the flabby indulgence.

'Cedars' is a record of huge maturity - witty, often quite sad, occasionally perverse, but hugely charming nonetheless.

Had 'It's A Wonderful Life' been recorded by anyone other than Sparklehorse, we could simply describe it as an amazing record before sitting back to bask in its splendour, but given everything that Mark Linkous has been through, that such a beautiful record not only exists but sounds so effortlessly graceful marks it out as a definite contender for album of the year.

An epic alt.rock symphony that takes the band’s trademark sun-kissed melodies and brass flourishes and melds them into something altogether darker and achingly beautiful. Unsurprisingly, it’s an approach that more than pays off.

The quality is high throughout.

It may well be too long and it might stick to its blueprint a little too faithfully, but singularity of vision can hardly be criticised on a debut record. 'Finelines' is a black-hearted but coruscating journey at speed.

Most of all, though, what we find ourselves thinking of when enjoying 'The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place' - and, rest assured, readers, it's an enjoyable experience right the way through - is the magical spangliness that elevated the Cocteau Twins from absolutely all of their more ghettoised contemporaries way back when.

A gloriously accomplished and very rewarding listen.

The ghosts of prog exorcised fully at last, Gorky's have once more put in a serious challenge to the Super Furries as Wales' most inventive band, and they've produced an album that, both in terms of its astounding quantum leap and its ambitious orchestration, swings excitingly near to the Delgados' genius breakthrough opus 'The Great Eastern'.

New Order are one of the best bands in the world again.

A lesson in understatement, 'Into The Blue Again' reminds us that LaValle is the undisputed master of emitting emotion without embellishing it with perverse orchestration or all manner of multi-tracked trickery.

A curious, klezmer-infested charm.

He lays bare pissed-off tantrums and his emotion through a burgeoning self-belief and raw musicality to create his endearingly bittersweet masterpiece.

'Absolution' is Muse's most accomplished album to date, and kicks their - at the time - excellent debut album 'Showbiz' into the ground.

This debut is pretty good, but don't be surprised if you overhear some twunt proclaiming "A.R.E Weapons are so 2001 daaaaling" anytime in the next couple of months.

As smooth and comforting as an afternoon on an old leather sofa that fits you like your own skin.

'Try This' is quite the album - most things to all people, touched by audacious greatness, and as fine an advert for imperfectionism as we could've demanded.

Patchy, though when it's good (and nicked) it's very good.

This is an album of gin-fuelled laments, uprisings and battered beauty: such dignity and sharp proficiency shows he can only do better.

There are ideas galore here, which is always admirable, though you feel he could have taken the 15 tracks, whittled it down to 10, and developed all this stuff to staggering effect.

It’s just a shame that after seven plays, it’s still a bit tricky to remember what any of the tunes go like.

Even for a band that crowbar "love" into as many titles as they can, you've got to admire their sauce, and, impressively, they're cramming really difficult music into affable scuzz-pop coatings.

It’s an atmospheric and tender record, and although you have to wait for each line you never lose patience.

'The Magnificent' largely sidelines Jeff's considerable turntablist skills preferring to showcase the talents of his A Touch Of Jazz production company.

A shimmering snowflake of a record.

It's hard not to feel that the mystique is so damaged by the poor execution of the opening, that the rest of 'St. Elsewhere', however good, struggles to catch up.

Even in spite of their obvious knack for a beast of a tune that knows no indie fear, they do a cracking job of getting peculiar on us as well.

Chock full of songs that are lounging rather than strictly loungey, cosmpolitan-sounding in a wearing-aviator-shades alongside a large-haired lovely kind of way and blessed with harmonies that fall narrowly on the breezy side of melancholia.

It's a warm and welcoming experience all round, and very much the mark of a band that know exactly what they're doing even if they sound remarkably out of step with everyone else.

Well as befits such a completely uncompromising visionary/awkward pain in the arse (delete one if you can be bothered) it veers between the preposterously awful 'Genuine Lullabelle' with its bewildering spoken word passages and the awesome wire taut assault of 'Be Prepared'.

Although Darnielle's incessant lyrical urgency occasionally causes some words to sound too forced, it's these delicate, well placed notes, minimal piano tinkles and two chord strums that save the songs.

Lamb's most rounded and complete collection yet.... Even if they've lost something special in the process.

At least 'Musicology' reunites us with that trademark Prince sound, that regal sparkle that’s influenced many and been matched by none.

Nothing earth shattering, but enjoyable nonetheless.

[The live disc is] arguably far more interesting and focused and energized than the studio effort.

It is a lot of fun, brilliantly produced and is the perfect winter soundtrack to plans for a summer road-trip.

One of the most distinctive and satisfying records you'll hear all summer.

Despite the unconventional approach, it's definitely an album.

Razorlight's debut has more hooks than a fishing rod factory, and the advantage they have over Oasis (in addition to not sounding anything like them) is that they haven't had their arses kissed enough to disappear completely up them yet.

As a headphone album, 'These Were... The Earlies' is something of a stunner.

With a secret nod and a flick of an amulet, JJ72 have wandered into Mercury Rev's sacred ground of mystical contemplation.

Most of the hooks are appalling - a few, sung by Skinner, like 'Such A Twat', and opener 'It Was Supposed To Be So Easy' are enjoyable, but when he lets his mates croon soupily all over his beats, shit gets distinctly unpleasant.

This may not quite live up to 'Ocean Songs', but it still stands up on its own.

There are, admittedly, times when it looks like they're just showing off.

While not quite aspiring to the lofty benchmark of 'Whatever, Mortal', this recovers the lost ground of 'Pajo'.

The warmth of her debut is still there but now overlaid with something fearsome, forceful and almost overbearing at times.

Manitoba is a lunatic and a fool, and his strange music, crafted from nature and machine and birdsong and the wind and the air and the seas and THE GODS... it is a fine, fine thing indeed.

It's a pleasant listen, with twice the beauty of its predecessor 'All This Sounds Gas', but while the songs are easy to appreciate, they are difficult to love.

'Walking With Thee' is a smoothed-over cacophony where the surreal meets the jovial and declares it an octagonal fish - deadly seriousness with a hint of smirk.

We’re filled with consternation when we first give it a whirl.... Thankfully from [track 4] on in, it gets a damn sight better.

'Why Bother' is a testing listen, of course, and after a while the vocals can begin to make your brain start to dissolve in minor whirlpools.

R.E.M. still have the remarkable distinction of never once producing a bad album, but this is perhaps the biggest example yet of the group merely treading water, whereas once they majestically swam.

The overall vibe is laid-back and the production slick, with dark moments, fun bits and some cool guests. But it lacks the punch that would make it a classic, and it's all too easy to forget that it's even playing.

Consistent and cleanly sexy stuff.

Sophomore album 'The Only Thing I Ever Wanted' is the work of a band with a keening melodic sense, akin to the development apparent in the prime works of, say, Idlewild or the Delgados, and, impressively, it does this without losing any of the idiosyncratic DIY charms that characterised its makers in the first place.

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

Fascinatingly dense, soulful and utterly divine.

A much more brutal and vicious record than its predecessor.

Unlike 2002's 'Geogaddi', it's a wholly gripping journey throughout.

A collage of pristine party-hop that will both make the kids bounce and the purists smile.

The good news is that for a bunch of brats they're well in control of the complex, riddling, labyrinthine structures that go toward making the perfect pop punk songs.

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

A rock-solid album that improves with each listen.

There's a lot of tracks on this album that go a lot deeper than anything Jigga's ever done, but so what? They ain't gonna cut it as party jams. Well, except the party jams.

Admittedly, this time round he's prone to touch on more comfortable territory than before... but often there's a delicious sense of him going back to basics without sacrificing the benefits of modern technology.

'Pressure Chief' sees the California quartet merge their trademark post modern kitsch with something vaguely approaching proper singing and the results are, by and large, pretty favourable.

A soothing, gentle rock'n'roll opus.

Rabid Dinosaur Jr fans will find plenty here to enjoy.

This is probably the record that everyone who bought the Keane album should buy.

It's not without fault; too many songs and too little variation between the tracks detract from unequivocal enjoyment. Much more of an album to admire, rather than cherish.

There's little that sounds really new here.

The music itself doesn't quite have the simple accessibility and easy soul of her debut, but it's loads of fun and bursting with ideas.

A good record, if a little frustrating.

But even on those tracks that don't make the cut as RJ stand-outs almost everywhere you care to look there are stylish touches and subtleties waiting to be discovered with each subsequent listen.

Too often, though, as on the lacklustre title track 'Favours For Favours' or 'Thursday', it has to be said that the new beast just isn't as feisty as the one-trick pony of old.

If there's one thing that unites 'Illuminated By The Light' it's how sweaty a vibe it gives off.

Worth the wait? Well, sort of. This is the sound of a band that has tired of its popular straitjacket ­ searching for something more real, more original, more cutting edge. But you can't forget what you've learned, can't retrace your steps or begin again afresh.

Quite simply, only the Chili Peppers are even in this class now, and it took them a lot more than four albums to get there.

They’re waay better than The Coral, exhibiting none of the tedious, skunk-smoke wackiness that characterises their labelmates.

It's clearly touched by the hand of Brian Eno, who tries (and succeeds with) all sorts of jumpy, trippy beats.

The Rapture may not quite be wholly heavenly, but they've made an album that's entirely admirable and often lovable.

Z's leaden voice is what really makes The Like stand out.

Not necessarily a fantastic album then, but a great excuse for a record, nonetheless.

Not much here is too likely to blow up on the airwaves... it's too dirty, too ugly, too hard, and too Real.

It appears to paint from a more kaleidoscopic emotional palette than some of the earlier Stars endeavours.

Though not really getting the joke can somewhat divorce the listener from proceedings, the slick, masterful production and real-life cameos from the likes of Ghostface and particularly Cee-Lo on the majestic 'Benzi Box' make up for the feeling of exclusion.

They're simply repainting comfortable territories with even subtler strokes than ever.

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