Cohen is clearly making the music he wants in the way he wants, but Milk Maid are releasing it into a world containing countless similar items old and new. [That have been influenced by 90's American lo-fi]. This needn't necessarily matter, but for many might mean the difference between a diverting record and an essential one.

Marr’s guitar work can be fascinating--but it’s forever shadowed by less-appealing vocal work.

The hit-and-miss nature of her words wouldn't be so noticeable if the music was more of a distraction. But the skittering sub-Motown fare accompanying much of this album fails to muster a chorus worth savouring.

Should he ever stretch himself as a musician the results could be fascinating – think The Beach Boys before Pet Sounds, and what they felt capable of afterwards – but right now he's operating in a comfort zone that should guarantee continued commercial success.

Tunes are plentiful, but competing with angularity and dissonance to establish a prevailing mood.

Finally Famous is sporadically fun but adds nothing to the ongoing evolution of hip hop, in the mainstream down.

Unfortunately, over 10 tracks, the band's musical limitations become ever more obvious, with songs like Hold My Breath and Jam for Jerry rummaging through the same box of retro tricks to lessening effect.

If you avoid Mysterious Phonk during the impatient daytime hours, you'll find it impressively dark and uncomfortable.

They still have enough primitive power to brush past any road blocks, but they could do with tweaking their formula somewhat if they don't want to run out of gas.

With these perfect nuggets of hormonal pop, Pete & The Pirates may not be courageous or sophisticated but they will make you want to jump around the room --even when you're empathising with Sanders' woes.

Still, despite some odd uses of language on them, tracks like Shut-In Tourist and Everything's Gonna Be Undone will undoubtedly keep fans of this enduring band more than happy.

The Oscar-winner is an understated powerhouse on her second album.

Soundgarden, Seattle natives at the epicentre of the early 1990s' plaid-and-flannel rock scene, already have one best-of to their name, 1997's A-Sides. But Telephantasm goes further, spreading itself across 24 tracks and two discs, including excellent live performances alongside commercially released singles.

There's definitely a place for We Are Born in our post-Gaga pop landscape. The album's accessible tunes might not stand up to in-depth analysis, but they stand a good chance of lighting up cheesy club nights everywhere.

Old Dog New Tricks is hardly an overhaul--the likes of Don't Know Why She Love Me but She Do ensures there's plenty here for adherents to the tried and true. But it's clear that this old dog is stretching his legs more than on any previous album.

Love & Danger takes on verbal Picasso forms with the reliable regularity that has made him a cult figure.

Cultdom seems assured at the very least, and How I Knew Her is less an album to yield all its myriad charms instantly, more one to slow-drip its way to adoration

Hercules and Love Affair have vaulted over any second album worries with a jubilant and celebratory collection of large tunes.

Pink Friday isn't a classic by any means, then, but when Nicki Minaj is on fire nobody in hip hop – male or female – can extinguish her bright-burning talents.

Biasonic Hot Sauce is a mesmerising album.

It's fair to say that for every misstep there's an unexpectedly winning duet, but not enough of Jones' maturity is brought to the fore.

With Audio, Video, Disco, the duo has created their own realm and progressed into a formidable force.

It's a collection that feels fresh and clean, uncomplicated by over-thinking.

As it stands, they've not only crossed over but given themselves the scope to impress even further in future.

Whereas the finest music of this ilk goes full pelt with either ideas or loins, sometimes concurrently, Business Casual is, as its title suggests, the ultimate middle ground.

Soothsayer lyricism atop sinister guitars and eldritch electronics.

Despite the clunky moments, there’s ample proof that Team Bieber know exactly what they’re doing and who they’re talking to. As you’d expect, it’s the ballads that hit the hardest.

These sky-surfing legends may have another great album in 'em yet, but for all its intermittently irie moments, Into the Future isn't it.