A friend of mine recently asked me, "What is it with Swedish bands and 'heartbeat'? Both Annie and Robyn have tracks called 'Heartbeat', while The Knife wanted to be different and called a track 'Heartbeats'." Now, obviously the track I'm about to review is not called 'Heartbeat' or even 'Heartbeats', but the fact that my British friend could not only name three contemporary Swedish groups but also three of their songs without feeling as if he was exposing a guilty pleasure indicates how much our opinion Swedish music has changed (Ace of Base, anyone?).

Little Dragon are more Dance-orientated and a good deal less retro than the 'Heartbeat-ers', but still know how to craft a Pop song you can be proud to love. 'Test' opens with a clanging not dissimilar to the 1950s musique concrete of Stockhausen, as if to remind the listener of electronica's avant-garde origins, before immediately introducing today's most irreverent application of such Classical techniques: the 4/4 Dance beat. Punctuated by the most minimal Ska-styled guitar/keyboard I've ever encountered (is that just one note?), driven by a Dub-bassline that becomes beautifully indistiguishable from the kick drum and featuring a Jazz interlude, like all great Pop songs 'Test' shamelessly steals from the best.

However, the undeniable highlight of the track is singer Yukimi. Recalling Matthew Herbert's work with Dani Siciliano, her multitracked laidback delivery effortlessly transports the listener to the centre of a dancefloor at an indeterminate post-midnight hour. Soulful without forced vocal gymnastics and Bluesy without being cliched, much like the music itself, her voice is able to take in all that 20th century music had to offer and exhale something cohesive, contemporary and copious.

A chic dancefloor-filler.

The Wave Pictures have been badgering away for a long while, producing a significant amount of fine output without the widespread acclaim they justly deserve. I Love You Like a Madman is another example of the low-fi dirty sound they produce, and as with almost all of their tracks; it has a beautifully crafted melody. The song is also complimented by a rather fine brass section running underneath it, adding another level to the band's usual, more broken down sound. Lyrically, David has that rare talent of being able to write an unapologetic love song, declaring unabated obsession for some girl or other, without ever seeming wet or drippy. No one likes a drip.

I Love You Like a Madman plays itself out with a lonesome saxophone playing a meandering solo to draw the curtains on a near perfect pop single.

I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH.

Young Love is the beautifully melancholic ode of a one-night stand. The Mystery Jets are bang-on in featuring Laura Marling, the latest young darling of the music scene, on the first single to be taken from their second album, Twenty One. I’ve never been a huge Mystery Jets fan (I wasn’t fooled, and I most certainly wasn’t called Denis) but the dialogue between Laura and Blaine telling both sides of a brief encounter won me over within the first ten seconds.

In a move I haven’t seen since the works of Jane Austen, the love affair is cut short by that damnably unpredictable British weather. Far from regarding this as twee, the lyrics “you wrote your number on my hand but it came off in the rain” melted my icily sarcastic heart.

Laura sings of how “young love never seems to last”, and it’s with this stark honesty the dialogue tells of the ephemeral nature of youthful liaisons and the quiet acceptance of the pains of growing up. It’s this self-effacing honesty combined with the vintage handclaps, oohs and aahs that create one of the best pop songs of this year.

Oh, and check out the video: it’s bound to be at the top of the YouTube hit parade in no time, as Laura and the Mystery Jet boys are involved in a game of human curling. Now that should be an Olympic sport.

Happy Valentine's Day from brilliant new 4-piece Glasvegas. Or maybe not. This is savage stuff. Brim-full of emotion and a genuine passion that is frighteningly affecting. Despair, anger, hatred, paranoia, guilt, resignation and sadness are all here by the bucket load in a sorry tale of excess, infidelity and demise.

‘Let the rain and tear drops rain down on me tonight’ pleads vocalist James Allan in an unashamedly spiky Glaswegian lilt. Apparently, he's been busy accusing his missus wrongly of playing away from home, in between bouts of his own alcohol and ecstasy fuelled infidelities – the guilt for which becomes all too consuming.

Set to a sound that owes much to the genius of Phil Spector and The Jesus and Mary Chain. Alan McGee thinks Glasvegas are the best Scottish band of all time - they’re not. But with a few more offerings as brutally honest and exciting as this and he might be onto something.

Pete & The Pirates are great. Guitar pop hasn't been this exciting since The Libertines' debut. Nothing too smart, no overt post-punk influences, no attempt at non-existent depth. Mr Understanding is an over-excited barrage of sharp, sketchy simplicity.

And it makes you feel so young: “Could it be I’m alive after all then/Picking pennies of the floor with my cold hands/Look at me, no hands, ain’t it cool yeah/Look at her falling out of the taxi cab.”

It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but it’s the imagery that’s great. I can remember riding my bike, showing off and releasing my grip of the handlebar. I can remember goading pissed women stumbling out of cabs. I can remember when getting pissed was a novelty, not routine. And so do Pete & The Pirates.

They’ve got an energy, a buzz, a playful pizzazz about them. And check the video. Chickens, lights, mirrors, shades, larking about. This is what boys in bands were supposed to do before they got all serious and started strutting around in leathers, competing over women, insisting on class A’s and appearing all intellectual. Basic, raw and monstrously entertaining: boy pop at its best.

Save the Whale epitomizes the best times a band can have before they reach the ambivalent clutches of fame and fortune; the desire to strike, pummel and batter every instrument in sight like you’d never played or heard it before, in the name of making sweet noise. Wet Paint has perfected the art of clogging up one’s phone with hundreds and thousands of complaints from your dearly beloved OAP neighbours about the ‘awful racket’ from next door – have they never heard of music?!

The single urges to be played louder, and LOUDER, to reveal it’s true intensity. Babak provides vocals of the day, which are slightly tinged with a confusingly seductive arrogance, adopting a carefree ‘I’m singing because I can’ attitude. This against the melodic electric guitar and boisterous drumbeat is enough to send you on a solo Beyonce booty shaking frenzy, coupled with some head-banging Ozzy Osbourne would be proud of, provoked by such lyrics as ‘Do you remember those days/ dancing in your underwear’. The song finishes with an escalating no-holds-barred thrashing of their willing instruments, (I swear there is a revving engine here somewhere!) which remind you of exactly how their music is to be portrayed; as beautiful, loud, noise.

If it all gets a bit too much, the ubiquitous Lightspeed Champion’s B-side version is the perfect medicinal-remedy (the doctor told me so) to nurse such frantic thrashing of the arms and legs. So much calmer it made me wonder if I was listening to the same lyrics! But the swooping ‘woo’ mid-song is enough to deliver another dose of fun and light-hearted humour, which depicts the attitude you should welcome this song with.

Now take off those shoes and dance your feet to death to the A side; but remember, such ravenous award-winning dance-offs may need a little pampering of the B-side variety.

Try imagining a musical mash-up of a relaxing and melodic slice of Mogwai combined with an electronic club beat and maybe your getting close to this one. Skibunny's single Aah Ooh is juxtaposition between so many genres stemming from the DJing background of the band. A dreamy pop vocal draws you beyond the common electro-acoustic sound to create something else.

Normally remixing music, Skibunny have built up a solid reputation in the DJing scene, with a club of the same name holding a very good reputation for alternative nights. Now we see their first release of original material and it is an enjoyable song. Although slow and slightly pathetic at the start, the song has a steady build up throughout that draws you in to its tranquil sound. The vocal, with its echoing Aah Ooh’s, invites you to dream away about sitting in the sunshine with your friends and has a very positive summer feel. At the same time the beat does not distract from the dreamy mood of the song, only creating more of an atmosphere behind the calming vocal.

Slightly cheesy, but given a chance this song is actually very enjoyable. Anything that provokes such feelings of summer and drinking with friends is positive in my book. The single features a remix by Japanese producer and DJ Handsomeboy that has more electric knobs tweaked and piano bits. This is more upbeat than the single but equally pleasurable. The calming Aah Ooh is perfect listen on these cold days as we look forward and daydream about the summer.

Much hype surrounds Dev Hynes, the devilishly handsome genius behind Lightspeed Champion. He's a former member of Test Icicles, a trio whose music and general on-stage movement resembled characters in a flick book. In contrast to this, Hynes’s current incarnation takes a drastic departure from his musically angular Test Icicle work. Tell Me What It’s Worth, the third single from his debut album, Falling Off The Lavender Bridge is a melancholic ode complemented by backing vocals worthy of a Disney Princess (actually the work of Emmy the Great). Mesmerising as this vocal combination is, once I listened closer, I found the lyrics humourously abrasive as Hynes coos 'negros turn a blueish-grey when they're dead, well that's funny 'cause I've just gone quite red'. Hynes’s lyrics provide a welcome contrast to the sing-song melodies of most folk music.

When watching Channel 4 at a ridiculous time somewhere between Friday night and Saturday morning I came across Hynes being interviewed. After confessing eternal devotion to American rock band Weezer, he took to the stage and played an acoustic set complete with violin accompaniment. It’s refreshing to see an artist who refuses to be pigeonholed into one musical category, be it folk, anti-pop punk or rock, but welcomes all influences.

In amongst the glut of sugar coated schmaltz vying for the rather hollow accolade of Christmas number #1 for 2007 is this rather lovely cut from Welsh Wizards Super Furry Animals. A gift it is indeed. The track will be available free to fans in download format, complete with B side and artwork on Christmas day. It’s safe to say this won’t be troubling the upper reaches of the charts then, but when did SFA ever sell any records? The band’s lack of relative commercial success is still somewhat perplexing.

It matters not. Never intended to be a Christmas single, TGTKOG is one of many highlights from long player Hey Venus! released earlier this year. There are no bells or lyrics about snow. Just Gruff’s gorgeous tones, a meandering brass line and some intricate harmonies. Nadolig Llawen.

It's fair to assume that most bands are having fun; travelling around the country playing music and generally being outrageous on tour buses is fine work if you can get it. Kotki Dwa however sound like they're enjoying it even more then everyone else, not only have they rummaged around the musical toy box but they've emptied the shop. Robin's Clogs is a wonderfully crafted indie pop song, with slicing guitars not dissimilar to Foals except without the edge and with a squeaking synthesiser over the top playing out a melody as catchy as they come.

Kotki Dwa then are one of the new generation of British pop bands who are re claiming the fun in indie from across the Atlantic. Vocalist Alex, unlike so many of his contemporaries, is actually able to sing melodically and belt out fine vocals with a painfully delicate voice, sometimes sounding on the verge of tears, yet conversely remaining wistfully upbeat, lips smiling but eyes crying. You know the type. This is never more apparent than on B-side Halogen, which holds it's own to make a single of two fine songs. Oh, and they can even sing in French.

There’s a lot of talk about Foals at the moment. This quintet from Oxford is tipped to be the next big thing for English music in 2008, combining math rock qualities with techno beats and funky influences. As a result, this bunch of guys have managed to get noticed and talked up by the press before the album they recorded with David Sitek (TV On The Radio, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Liars) has been officially released. And as a matter of fact it still isn’t available in stores.

No wonder I was quite excited about having in my hot little hands on their first single, Balloons. With its beautiful artwork that combines a lovely taste for typefaces and the casual messiness of pattern repetition. It’s the kind of imagery that doesn’t really give you a clear idea of what to expect from it. Will they be just another indie pop band? Electro? Math rock? Foals turned out to be a mixture of all these varied genres.

And so here they are: compulsive guitar riffs played fast on a sort of minimal techno base all mixed with the syncopated vocals of the Devo like singer. Three guitars are playing at the same time making the distinctive mark to Foals songs while keyboards and drums create the background sonic wall...Balloons is quite succinct at just three minutes, but there is no need for anything else as the overall result is overwhelmingly catchy. They remind me of Hot Chip and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but I can also find something in common with El Guapo in the way they work on the electronic part of the track.

The mix is obviously as explosive as they apparently are on stage (never had the chance to see them yet). It’s a brilliant single that can easily appeal both to the underground geeks and the rest of the masses. Easy to listen to, makes you want to move and would potentially be destroying everything around you in the warehouse party you’re rocking out at.

Would it be wrong to call Emmy the Great’s new single lovely? Well, in the simplest sense that’s just what Gabriel is and unfortunately this review will be full of polite (anti) folk clichés, for this I apologise in advance.

Here Miss Emma Lee Moss continues in a similar vein to her debut EP My Bad, keeping production to a minimum and allowing her greatest strengths - her voice and prodigious song writing skills - take centre stage. The song itself was written and recorded in a matter of days; and this kind of DIY, back to basics approach is very much evident in her sound, as Emmy’s music is best served live and here she successfully brings all the encompassing atmosphere and low-key effectiveness of her gigs to this latest release. Lyrically, she is head and shoulders above many of her scene counterparts; intelligent, considered, poetic, no whimsical ‘slice of life’ musings or kooky intonation, thankfully choosing to instead creating something a little more left of center, otherworldly in places.

Supposedly written with ‘a cute boy from Myspace’ in mind (ok, I know, I know) it soon becomes clear that the spirit of the song lies somewhere else entirely, in fact the lady herself refers to it as a period drama, ‘about selling out, but in the 19th century..’, an altogether more convincing description. Written as a farewell letter, Emmy tells the story of a young woman set to follow convention and marry into money, leaving behind her girlish innocence, optimism (and Gabriel himself) for a life of security and predictability; and hey, I’ve seen my future in an evening dress and I’ve been walking to her step by step.

Performed and written with an incredible lightness of touch, Emmy isn’t interested in bludgeoning you over the head with stories of tragedy and lost love, preferring instead to present the intricate and melancholic wrapped up in the sweet, uncomplicated package that is her astonishing voice and way with melody.

It's always infuriating when you hear about a band, roughly about your age, from the same country as you, who suddenly grab everyone's attention in the best possible way.

Now this is one of those things that's just about possible to deal with if the artists in question are untalented and/or a flash in the pan and/or play thrash metal. Elle
S'appelle are fortunately none of these things. Having only been together for less than a year, they are a wonderful mix of bouncy guitar pop with perfectly fitting lady vocals over the top. With beautifully worked in melodies, they're just as catchy as one could want.

Little Flame is a perfect debut single, with the silliest lyrics this side of a Decemberists B-side, about a cheeky little flame who burns his way through a neighbourhood. The vocal harmonies of girl (Lucy) and boy (Andy) are delicate, sweet and sing-songy in equal measures. B-Side She Sells Sea Shells is perhaps superior even to its bigger sister, with layered keyboards on organ setting, it's as chirpy as one
would hope for, and with a boy taking the main vocal line, it is a nice variation from Little Flame.

It's only a matter or time before you see Elle S'appelle filling the more Death Cab inclined indie dance floors across the country, limbs will flail, feet will stomp, beer
will be spilled.

Something strange has been happening to electronic rock music recently. We all already know that bands like Klaxons are received ill-gotten awards for doing precisely what The Happy Mondays did at the end of the 1980s, and there are still fluorescent loons bouncing off the walls of grimy nightclubs every weekend, but when did this hybrid genre start giving people goosebumps? Urging me to stand on the roof of my house with arms outstretched like only a football montage and Nessun Dorma ever have done before?

Future Of The Left have always been, and remain, awesome. If you still need the info, they’re born of two parts Mclusky, one part Jarcrew.

Velvet Voiced Joan Wasser pops up with new offering ‘Real Life’ following recent headline shows at Shepherds Bush Empire and an appearance at Lattitude festival. Having earned her salt as a band member backing both Rufus Wainwright and Anthony Hegarty – Joan As Police Woman have slowly accumulated a reputation of worth, aided no doubt by a relentless touring slog. This stealthy progress appears to have stalled somewhat however with the dissapointing ‘Real Life’.

It’s been 3 years since The Go! Team charmed us all silly with their marvellous debut album ‘Thunder, Lightning, Strike’ –garnering a mercury nomination in the process. This then, is the first cut off their second long player ‘Proof Of Youth’ scheduled for release at the tail end of summer.

Picture the scene, you are an obscure musical outfit, notorious for your belligerent attitude towards the press, fiendishly controlling over every aspect of your musical/visual output, then, you have a hit song, a surfer covers it and you become known for it across the globe? What do you do? Well you claim it back, darken it up and release it again of course. At least that’s what The Knife have done with the blissfully electric summer smash of last year – Heartbeats.

I’ve always been a little torn when it comes to the Klaxons. On the one hand I feel I should resist any band championed by the likes of Jo Whiley and Zane Lowe, hyped to preposterous levels and stalked by Peaches Geldof. On the other, I can’t help feeling that ‘Atlantis to Interzone’ is one of the greatest indie/dance/pop crossovers of the past five years. So, in an attempt at an impartial review I’ve decided to put that all aside and try and judge their shiny new single with unbiased ears.

The Twilight Sad are all over it, reeling in plaudits from all and sundry, both here and over the pond. They deserve it too. Singer James Graham just sounds so damn Scottish, and we all know that that is just cool. They also manage to sound like most of the best bits of most of the best bands out Scotland in the last twenty years. They manage the detached, half-drunk commentary of Arab Strap's Aidan Moffat, the sheer massiveness of Mogwai and the angry forlorn cries of Biffy Clyro... without even a hint of The Proclaimers or Shamen.

Jack Penate, him with the legs what move like nothing you’ve ever seen, they’re great those legs. This tune’s alright too; nice and jingly jangly, backed by a bit of ska, he’s all Pete Doherty and Jamie T like with his cocky-ness but without Pete’s opium addled Thomas De Quincy romanticism and T’s who-does-he-think-he-is wide-boy act.

Sheffield youngsters Charles and Rebecca’s first single is a brilliant introduction to their very individual brand of country tinged indie-pop. Simplicity is everything with this duo and by keeping things stripped down they’ve created a sound which has the immediate effect of making you want to see them live. Touring frantically for the past few months seems to have paid off and transferring all that live goodness to vinyl, keeping production simple and vocals at the forefront of everything, was a great move.

Above all things Natasha Khan is a great storyteller and a brave songwriter. Someone who isn’t afraid to wander into a Kate Bush-esque world of old-fashioned fairytales and exploration of weird and wonderful sounds. In an indie market saturated with guitar led stories of everyday mundanity it’s a welcome relief to hear someone delve into the mystical, magical world of their very own unique vision. Little surprise she’s become a favourite of fellow innovator Bjork. With such a confident, fully-formed sound under her belt it’s difficult to question the attention this newcomer has so quickly garnered.

This debut single from hotly-tipped Cardiff students Los Campesinos! suffers from the same problem as past efforts from the very similar Leeds band The Research and Bristol-based Kid Carpet. Namely, the whole thing reeks of a kind of contrived wackiness. I’m all for simple pop – The Ramones, for instance – but there’s simple pop and then there’s children’s music, and this – so sugary and kooky, veers towards the latter. And yes, the Americans say “math” – how amusing.

Massive, joyous handclaps the Klaxons would wear Gap for. The sound of Delta 5 and LiLLiPUT scaling Phil Spector’s wall of sound. Vocals as fun as a pretty Swedish girl joyously screaming her favourite karaoke song at your house. And still, Love Is All’s cover of The Pastels’ Nothing To Be Done is the weaker song on this double A-side.

Rory Atwell from Rat:Att:Agg was in the band Test Icicles. A band whose neon-sponsored screamo will appear either ridiculous or brilliant in obscure “I Heart 2006” programmes yet to be made. If Rory’s new group make enough of an impact to feature in fictional nostalgia shows from the future, a part of my soul will die a little.