We get grooves as smooth and tight as Lycra, funky stabs of brass and arch lyrics delivered with cool detachment.

Words and Music, the first full studio album in an aeon from Sarah Cracknell, Bob Stanley and Pete Wiggs, is a masterclass of pop theory and practice in perfect harmony.

The occasional familiar, Carpenters-esque track aside, it makes for an exhilarating musical progression--even as his lyrical style remains unchanged.

Charges of over-solemnity may be levelled its way, but only occasionally are the melodic and narrative threads lost to a focus on miasmic, brush-stroked atmospherics.

A potent shot in the arm for Afrobeat.

As with some diseases, the album gets worse before it gets better, but by the end you're left stunned in admiration. Hell, there's even a redemptive arc. Amazing.

ODIGTS is the soul album of the century. It might yet turn out to be the album of the year

Post-millennial indie boy-rock has taken a savage beating here. And it may prove the best it’s ever had.

It's a little too polished for the Oh Brother... crowd, but fans of Gillian Welch and Alison Krauss should take note.

The music? It is of course exciting, youthful, dazzling in its energy and simplicity.... However, you may feel, given the track listing, that you have been this way before...

The orchestra's work is subtle and supportive rather than flashy, allowing free rein to that astonishing voice.

The results can be more interesting than listenable – and the musical contents do seem wilfully random.

The songs are sparky and Cherry is in excellent voice as she raps, sings and swings against the sparse, drum and bass-style backing orchestrated by Four Tet.

Pleasant, sad, classy and thoughtful. No more than that.

David Bowie's perpetual predicament is that he can't escape David Bowie's past. In that respect, he's just like the rest of us: we can't escape David Bowie's past either. The Next Day leaves you wondering why you'd ever want to.

The intricate interweaving of guitar and ngoni juxtaposed with the bright, clear backing vocals makes for a sound that’s dynamic and assertive.

A sassy self-overhaul, AM issues lubricious R&B come-ons over a self-assured narrative arc with personality and open potential cannily spliced.

The fourth album from the award-winning strings-and-sisters folksters is a thing of shivery and spooky charms.

Listened to sympathetically, as soppy late-night jazz, it’s fine. Just don’t expect sparks to fly.

Morning Phase is an often gorgeous sequel to Sea Change, but it’s also more than that: it’s cheering proof that Beck isn’t ready to start repeating himself just yet.

[Life is Good] proves once again that Nas is one of the smartest and most skilled players in the game.

PTSA may never stare you in the face, but you'd be a fool to turn your back on it. It's carrying a knife.

“Organic moonshine music” she calls it, and no one could argue with that.

At what point does a child prodigy turn into a talent so exceptional that we no longer talk about age? Sarah Jarosz’s third album answers that question in style (though just for the record, the banjo, guitar and mandolin supremo is now 22).

Here are a dozen more such, all beautifully crafted and conceived with poetic flair, arranged nicely for restrainedly plucked instruments, sung in a thin soprano which strains into a yelp.

It's all a bit "junior school music project" at times, and there's nothing John Cale wasn't doing half a century ago, but it's nevertheless an impressive work.

Built for repeat listening, this will keep on giving. Don't you just hate it when the hype is right?

First Aid Kit sing harmonies so close you couldn't run a Band Aid between them.