The theme of the year so far has been the confounding of expectations.

Which, with my usual foresight, I hadn’t expected.
I’ve only myself to blame. After all, I should have known 2009 was going to be a strange one as soon as I heard Panda Kopanda’s This Hope Will Kill Us. Known as a nice-guy outfit, keen on unthreatening jangly pop, the experimental brio of their debut came as a genuine – and very welcome - surprise. If their early material was in thrall to vintage R.E.M., this time Animal Collective appeared a more accurate (and rewarding) reference point.
Robyn G Shiels’ brilliant The Blood Of The Innocents also had shock value. Not just in the quality of the music (and, as I said at the time, Will Oldham could put his name to these songs without losing face). No – what really has you shaking your head is the fact that no label has yet taken a punt on releasing the thing. If there’s any justice in the North, however, the scene-stealing appearance of ‘Hello Darkness’ in next year’s movie Cherrybomb should see all that change.
The Cutaways' record has proved fun company over the summer. Initial impressions (encouraged, no doubt, by frontman Paul McIver’s mutton-chop sideys) may have flagged it up as nowt more than a one-listen quirk-athon from the school of knock-kneed indie. But no no no.
You may hold a (very reasonable) aversion to the school of asymmetric haircuts and skinny jeans – and yes, in places, Earth and Earthly Things sings from the same slack-shouldered hymn book as some of the worst recent indie offenders. What saves it, though (actually, what elevates it) are the gleaming moments of romance and low-rent poetry that keep popping up throughout. Be in no doubt: McIver is a songwriter to watch. The band’s buzzing art-rock is intriguing enough on its own to warrant further examination, but add in lyrics that are by turns witty, melancholic and narratively inventive, and the Cutaways are as exciting a prospect as have emerged all summer.
Speaking of which - The Summer Experiment provided more evidence of this year’s inclination towards bespoke, rather than off-the-peg, thinking. Formed in May '08, when former members of Catoan were twiddling their thumbs while preparing to  leave town in the autumn, the concept (a group of musicians come together to collaborate over the three sunniest months of the year, playing what they produce at a gig at the end of August) proved resilient enough to justify repeating twelve months later. In other hands this could be a slack and messy excuse for an extended jolly, but this particular lot have some serious left-field and modern classical pedigree, and the results have been both provocative and thrilling. Here’s hoping they bring their buckets and spades back with them in 2010.
We also like the look of Albrecht’s Pencil – like TSE, formed by a bunch of music graduates, but unlike them, using acoustic instruments rather than fully-amped ones to articulate their theories.
In all honesty, we’d given up on Phil Kieran delivering an album. How great, then, to discover that Shh is every bit as twisted, challenging and thrilling as we’d always hoped.
Then, of course, there’s Cat Malojian. See the three of them gathered together – legs crossed, voices low, banjos and fiddles at the ready – and you could be forgiven for thinking you’ve stumbled across some God-bothering youth group leaders, or (more accurately) some prematurely old, finger-in-the-ear-merchants on the look-out for the nearest convenient session. But as last year’s eponymous debut suggested, and as the follow-up The Dawn Chorus has just proved, they’re also as capable as Norman Blake or Michael Head of conjuring up incredible, heartfelt pop music.
  And there is much to look forward to in the coming months. Local accents have been bouncing off the walls in David Holmes’ home studio over recent months. Since the release of The Holy Pictures, Holmes seems to have been quietly mentoring some of our most talented (and strongest) personalities, and it won’t be long before we’re presented with the results. We’ve already spoken at length about Cashier No 9, but Foy Vance has also been very excitedly talking-up the fermenting record. I was left cold by Hope, but given the counter-intuitive bent of the year thus far, I’m now expecting great things. Likewise, whatever Shiels, Martin Corrigan and Charley ‘Desert Hearts’ Mooney are working on under the name of John Edgar Voe.
Did I say expecting?
Maybe just scrub that.
Best leave ’09 to carry on as it fancies. It seems to know what it’s doing.