James Morrison You Make It Real Single, Polydor, September 22
MUMS will be clearing a space on their coffee table in time for the release of Morrison's second album next week. Until then they'll have to make do with this snapshot of what's to come.
His debut, Undiscovered, sold more than two million copies, making him the biggest selling solo artist of 2006.
His whiney, asthmatic voice trickled out of radios nonstop for months, and if that's anything to go by, it's going to be a long Autumn.
"I'll run to you baby, because you're the only one who'll save me," whimpers the Derby boy in a faux-American drawl, before launching into a compulsary, mid-way key change.
Sugary, mindless stuff that you'll wish you could forget.
Mogwai The Hawk Is Howling, Album, Wall Of Sound, September 22
AFTER nearly 15 years, they'd be forgiven for taking things a bit easy, but Glasgow's pioneering post-rockers are still as unpredictable as ever.
This is their first entirely instrumental album - a brave step that opens their sound up for scrutiny.
Opening track, I'm Jim Morrison, I'm Dead, is pure Mogwai - it creeps up from a haunting, barely audible sneer to a crashing, sonic crescendo.
Single Batcat is old school Mogwai - a fuzzy, noisy epic.
It's a dark and searching album, as eerie and questioning as we've come to expect from them. It nods towards My Bloody Valentine, but ultimately suffers from its lack of vocals, and fails to make a lasting impression.
Jenny Lewis Acid Tongue, Album, Rough Trade, September 22
JENNY Lewis has a lot to live up to. Her first solo album, 2006's Rabbit Fur Coat, went down a storm, while her Rilo Kiley band mates' side projects flopped.
The band's last record, Under The Blacklight, also received a lukewarm reception, but she's obviously been saving the best tricks for herself and Acid Tongue is her most exciting work to date.
From its understated opening, Blacksand, to the raunchy country drawl of The Next Messiah, she steers clear of the cliched indie girl trap, instead exploring the rootsy folk of the west.
She and Elvis Costello do their best Robert Plant and Alison Krauss impression on Carpetbaggers, a foot-stomping hoedown, while the album's title track is an acoustic, campfire tear-jerker.
Rounding off an excitable, schizophrenic record, Jack Killed Mom is a kooky, Holly Golightlyesque pastiche of traditional country. An exciting, giddy record that makes the likes of Amy and Duffy sound stifling and dull.