It's taken a while. 'Lungs', the debut album from the woman known to her bank manager as Florence Welch, and "Flossie!" to her dad – finally came out today (6 July), despite having been sitting on most music journalists' desks since about March.

The buzz has been building for so long – NME put Florence on the cover in January – that there's a feeling it may have exhausted itself already, leading some critics to resort to personal sideswiping.

Like Drowned In Sound, who raged that Florence had "sold her soul to Beelzebub in hopes of becoming an adult contemporary chart star", and expressed hope that she would "spend eternity burning in a lesser circle of hell", which seems a little harsh.

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1. Wolf Gang - Pieces Of You
Behold! Striding through a rosy new dawn comes a homegrown British artist that’s more than a match for the grand high poobahs of American weird-pop. Max McElligott sounds like he spent his formative years holed up in the trunk of a twisted old tree with only early Roxy Music and Byrne & Eno records to keep him warm. Throwing itself from branch to branch around the cavernous canopy of a lush sonic jungle, it’s somewhere between the sweet sass of suave post-punk poppers Orange Juice, ‘Remain In Light’-era Talking Heads and the old doyen of debonair himself, Bryan Ferry, by way of the multilayered pop of Of Montreal or Grizzly Bear. It’s AMAZING.
[Listen]
Download another Wolf Gang track from the Radar blog

2. Boy Crisis - Boy Crississippi
“Our name is Boy Crisis and we think you’re great”. Nice opening line and, yes, flattery will get you everywhere, you dapper rogues. This exclusive taster of MGMT’s sleazy little brothers’ forthcoming album typifies their silly, saucy brand of Prince-referencing high jinks (“Our breath smells like nipples and it’s not a coincidence”). They can’t fool us though – you can just tell by looking at them that they’re the sort of well brought up young men that always won the spelling bee.
Download as a free MP3 from The Daily Download

3. White Belt Yellow Tag – Tell Your Friends (It All Worked Out)
If you’re constantly torn between the heart and the mosh, you’ll be pleased to hear that these Yorkshire lads have found a way to unite the atmospheric solemnity of Elbow or Doves with the pop-rock rush of Dinosaur Pile-Up or Nine Black Alps. Heaving with hurt, portent and downhome Northern vocals, it’s the best of both worlds.

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Venue: 'Century City', CBS HQ, Los Angeles

Date: April 1981

Background: The Jacksons were promoting their 1980 album 'Triumph', featuring the hit 'Can You Feel It'. Michael Jackson had already enjoyed solo success with 'Off The Wall', but 'Thriller' and superstardom was still a year off.

This is an edited version of a feature which originally appeared in NME, April 1981

Up on the seventh floor I sit cradling my two notebooks and a glass of Heineken. As [The Jacksons] arrive one by one I’m struck by a terrible thought. Jesus wept, I can’t place the names to the faces.

Let’s see, there’s Michael and Tito and Marlon and … and … oh sure, Randy the little one and uh … er … Dopey, Happy and Doc. No this is serious. Help. I’m shaking hands with each member as they arrive, grinning away, and I’m trying to think of the album credits.

Suddenly I hear a raising of vocal octaves and an increase in nervous giggling from the outer office. Michael’s here. In he comes, waving meekly to the kin and smiling benignly at my forehead as we shake hands. He shakes hands like I imagine the Queen Mother might.

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We've put together an online poll to help you vote for the greatest Michael Jackson track. Click here to determine the NME readers' Top 20

It’s the question that's been racing round the Glastonbury site – the third thing everyone is instantly asked during every backstage ‘stop-and-chat’, just after “You looking forward to The Boss?” and “How shit were East 17?”

And it’s this: What’s your favourite Michael Jackson song?

The answer to this question generally depends on your age. 30-somethings, and the more thoughtful kind of music fans, generally plump for 'Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough' - largely because its clean rhythmic lines and majestic funkiness are free of the taint of '80s pomp that accompanies Jackson's later, blockbuster hits.

Ask a child of the '80s, however, and he or she will generally choose either 'Man In The Mirror' – that most overblown, yet curiously moving, of ballads – or 'The Way You Make Me Feel', a song whose sleek, onrushing groove has won fans in unexpected places. More than one metal fan has pointed out to me the rhythmic similarity between that track and the remorseless ‘power groove’ of Pantera’s 'Walk'.

But there are so many deathlessly brilliant songs to choose from – which is why it’s the kind of conversation that keeps drunken Glastonbury-goers chattering late into the night.

So how about you? Which Michael Jackson song do you love the most?

Poll - vote for the greatest Michael Jackson track

The true tragedy of Michael Jackson’s death is the cruel timing. After a decade making headlines for all the wrong reasons – child abuse allegations, court cases, a catastrophic breakdown of his finances – Jackson was, in 2009, on the verge of a genuine career rehabilitation.

The fact that all 50 dates of Jackson’s London O2 residency sold out in hours served notice that the erstwhile king of pop was back, re-energised, and willing to remind fans of why he was famous in the first place – not for his freakish celebrity, of weirdness, or his Christ-like personal flights of fancy, but for his jaw-dropping, superhuman powers as a performer.

By way of tribute, here are Jackson’s finest moments.

I Want You Back (1969)
Co-authored by Motown boss Berry Gordy and originally intended for Diana Ross, this was the ultimate showcase for the bell-like purity and exuberance of Jackson's youthful voice - he was 11 at the time.

I'll Be There (1970)
Staying just the right side of schmaltz, this graceful ballad is given an added note of vulnerability thanks to its famous fluffed line, "Just look over your shoulders, honey" - a nonsensical attempted reference to The Four Tops' 'Reach Out I'll Be There'.

Wanna Be Startin’ Something (1983)
Elevating gibberish to an artform ("Mama-se, mama-sa, mama-coosa"), 'Thriller''s insistent opening track demonstrates Jackson's ability to use his voice as a percussive instrument.

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I have spent all of today being a fucking idiot.

On Tuesday Steven Wells, my favourite rock writer, died after a three year battle with Hodgkin's lymphoma. Like most people, I only found out today and, with 99 per cent of the NME office being en route to Glastonbury, it’s been left to me to compile an obituary for next week’s issue. I’ve been a fucking disgrace. I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself; the sheer weight of articulating what his words meant to me, let alone at least two generations of NME readers, has almost ruined me. I’ve made cups of tea, I’ve smoked cigarettes, I’ve been for an obscenely long lunch. I’ve done anything I could do to avoid writing something on page. Even in death, the unique talent, spirit and flair of Steven Wells has left me questioning everything I’ve ever believed. Articulating the life and times of a character as big as Steven Wells is a job for a big man and I can’t help questioning whether I’ve got the girth for the job.

To paraphrase Steven’s article for the Philadelphia Weekly upon learning he had cancer: JAMES YOU FUCKING LOSER SHITRAG BIS FAN. Shut the fuck up and grow a pair.

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