Traditionally, Kylie Minogue has been at her best attempting pure pop, not chasing credibility, but X-her tenth studio album, and the first since 2003's Body Language-somehow pulls off the trick of being both. With production credits split between old hands like Richard Stannard and Guy Chambers and new faces like Calvin Harris, the Freemasons and Bloodshy & Avant, the Swedish team behind Britney's "Toxic", X does a neat job of matching big hooks with forward-thinking production tricks. The poptimistic Kylie fan will head straight for "2 Hearts", a sassy falling-for-you number with a glammy beat and a chorus poised to fill a thousand Karaoke rooms, and "Wow"-a thumping disco number with a lot of love to give. Scattered alongside these, however, are some slightly more adventurous productions that demonstrate that despite a few years off the stage, Kylie is well up to speed with 21st Century pop: the excellent "Speakerphone" begins with the sound of a strummed harp before diffusing into a shimmering, Scandinvian-tinged electro-pop number reminiscent of Robyn or The Knife, all snapping, sassy beats and vocodered vocal; meanwhile, the ghetto-pop bounce of "Nu-di-ty" proves raunch is still by no means beyond her. A very welcome return. , -Louis Pattison.

The second album from Hot Chip, The Warning sees these inspired pop alchemists pull off some truly devious musical juxtapositions. Scholars of music from Timbaland to Stevie Wonder to the Aphex Twin, this South London quartet make quirky, ideas-packed vocal electronica perpetually veering between moments of bliss, humour, and sheer sonic mentalism - take the opening "Careful", vocalists Alexis Taylor and Joe Goddard sweetly harmonising "Every year, exactly this time of year/They float a balloon up into the air", as the tune leapfrogs along on the sort of demented breakbeat rave seldom seen outside a Squarepusher record. Luckily, Hot Chip know enough not to sabotage all their elegant pop moments. "Boy From School" cribs deliciously from Stardust's robo-Balearic anthem "Music Sounds Better With You", while "Over And Over" ("Like a monkey with a miniature cymbal/The joy of repetition really is in you") is bouncy testament to the joy of dumb, fun dance music. Further in, too, there's sweet moments like "Look After Me", an R&B-tinged plea to an ex-lover, that sees these clever-clever white boys succeed in getting sentimental without resorting to irony. A dream synthesis of warmth and intelligence. -Louis Pattison.

It’s a sleepy, laid-back kind of vibe that runs through Man Like I, the debut album from North London’s Natty, but don’t mistake it for laziness. The tales we find within mark our narrator out as neither saint nor sinner, bouncing round London’s streets with a badman swagger and an eye for the ladies, but with a skill for a deft, lyrical narrative and a social conscience learnt from his heroes, “Marcus, Mandela and Marley”. And while Bob Marley is a fair reference point to Natty’s shuffling, light reggae skank, it’s just as easy to locate these tales of life, love, and misadventure on the streets of London in the neighbourhood of Lily Allen, Kate Nash, and their attendant clan of new-school songsmiths. Some of it, then, is pretty simple fare-see “Last Night”, a break-up number that sees Natty reach for the spliff and the bottle-but elsewhere, there’s politically charged numbers like “Burn Down This Place”, a lament for his slave ancestors, or “Hey Man”, which sees our narrator lash out at the political apathy displayed by his peers. “My father’s generation had fires in their belly, man/We sat there like living room furniture, in front of our tellys, man”. -Louis Pattison.

On Version, British-born, New York-bred DJ Mark Ronson cocks a sideways glance at some of the bigger UK chart hits of the last few years, plus a couple of old favourites. Formerly producer for an all-star cast that includes Lily Allen, Christina Aguilera, Robbie Williams, and Amy Winehouse, here Ronson has cajoled some of his famous mates into repaying the favour. The result? An album of A-list karaoke that at times, struggles to transcend its novelty, but nonetheless throws up some fun reversions. The uniting factor is Ronson's band - a live-sounding band augmented with trumpets, saxophones, piano and strings which, to its credit, puts enough of a stamp on the material that no single artist steals the show. And that's quite a feat, as there's some big names here. Lily Allen tackles the Kaiser Chiefs' "Oh My God" with her token gum-chewing insouciance. Amy Winehouse proves The Zutons' "Valerie" was always meant to be a strings-swept Motown stomp. And Tiggers and the late Ol' Dirty Bastard tackle Britney's "Toxic" (although few Wu-Tang fans will be surprised just how far ODB wanders off script). But the most significant misstep? Robbie's take on The Charlatans' "The Only One I Know", an unexpectedly drab remake that serves best to remind you how good the original is. -Louis Pattison.

Having recently and radically reinvented themselves-and their business model-with recent album Ghosts I - IV, Trent Reznor and team are back with another 45 minutes of brand new music. The Slip, released free as a download and licensed again under the Creative Commons license, follows up musically and conceptually on themes already explored on Ghosts I - IV as well as on older projects like Year Zero, With Teeth and The Fragile. Ambient electronic loops mingle with dark lyrics and searing rock riffs to create a progressive and at times prophetic tapestry, which begins with the ambient "999,999", morphs into the scintillating rock of "1,000,000", and the post-disco of "Discipline" and ends with seven-minute meditations like "Corona Radiate". Along the way are some classic NIN moments. "Head Down" harks back to a more traditional sound, while "The Lights in the Sky" won't surprise anyone that knows Reznor's fondness for blending pretty piano melodies with morbid lyricism. There are indulgences here-not least the eleven-minute "The Four of Us Are Dying"-but many will consider it a small price to pay for such beautiful sonic bravery. -Paul Sullivan.

Anyone expecting Sigur Ros to have abandoned their emotional and majestic approach will think again after hearing the opening bars of their new album, ( ). When Sigur Ros released their second long player Agaetis Byrjun back in 1999, they caught everyone on the hop. Though it was pretty much the first anyone outside of their native Iceland had heard of them, the quartet had been studiously honing their sound for the last five years, developing a spellbinding mix of rock guitars scraped with violin bows, angelic falsetto vocals and dramatic builds of percussion fuelled tension that offered all the ineffable quietude of religious music. ( ) is a slightly rawer, undoubtedly heavier experience than its predecessor, but it still manages to shine a torch into the darkest corner of our souls, describing accurately the aching beauty and the hopeless anguish that makes up the contradictory essence of human existence. Experimental flourishes hark back to their eldritch debut album Von, and Jonsi's vocals-which have devolved over two albums from Icelandic to his own "Hopelandic" half-language-finally melt into lyric-less harmonic textures that still float across the band's earthy tapestries as naturally as clouds cross the night sky. Rest assured though that any changes are slight; the melancholy brilliance that made Agaetis Bryjun such a life-changing event is still very much the driving force behind Sigur Ros's music, making this new album every bit as essential as the last. -Paul Sullivan.

Reykjavík-based noise quartet Sigur Ros are the biggest band in their native Iceland, which should say much, much more about the collective insanity of that earthquake-ridden, blizzard-beaten crag of an island than anything to do with Sigur Ros' sound. But in their music, Sigur Ros reflect all the breathtaking glory of the Icelandic wastes-a fairy-tale explosion of unhinged elemental majesty that's finally crystalised here, their debut European release. Poised somewhere between the haunting soundscapes of Labradford and the lilting Celtic falsetto of Enya, Agaetis Byrjun is a truly breathtaking listen. Frontman Jon Por Birgisson sings in a language that Sigur Ros dub Hopelandic-an otherworldly mutation of Icelandic, sung in the falsetto cadence of angels; similarly, he plays his guitar with a violin bow, opening the floodgates for brilliant waves of feedback. And while it's the opening "Svefn-G-Englar" that's Sigur Ros' defining moment to date, there's far more that Agaetis Byrjun has to offer; the pomp and flourish of a full orchestra on "Flugufrelsarinn", or the awe-inspiring near-religious mantra of "Ny Batteri". -Louis Pattison.

Sly & The Family Stone might have psychedelicised soul music, but Marvin Gaye personalised it. Although the powers-that-were Motown didn't even want to release the record, the unexpected success of What's Going On, issued in 1971, inspired Stevie Wonder, Curtis Mayfield, and just about every other black artist on the planet to take greater responsibility for their music and its meaning. Gaye co-wrote the songs and produced the album, flavouring it with layer upon layer of his own multi-tracked vocals, oceans of hand percussion, strings, flutes and jazzy horn solos. Spacy and loose as a spliff-fuelled Sunday afternoon jam in the park, the nine songs all played like hit singles. The title track- inspired by his brother's return from the Vietnam War-and the obvious social commentary of "Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler)" and "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" actually were hit singles. Two other tracks ("Wholly Holy" and "Save the Children") would inspire hit covers by Aretha Franklin and Diana Ross, respectively. Nevertheless, What's Going On sounds as fresh today as it did the week that it came out. -Don Waller.