In the US they're pitching this as Diamond's revelatory masterpiece, which is a bit rich considering he's performed covers often before, and his own best songs were as strong as anything here.

Throughout, there are unexpected melodic twists and turns, and the whole thing feels like a bid for commercial acceptance, if indeed the market for this classy music even exists anymore.

What first seemed like an impenetrable puzzle will prove endlessly engrossing.

She places faith in unremitting earnestness. It's often affecting, and draws you in at times, but somewhat smothering in its unrelenting glumness. There's also a paucity of fresh melodies here. This profoundly personal album is unlikely to woo passers-by, but loyal, long-time admirers will adore it.

The Deserters, given a chance, will completely negate any such journalistic silliness with just one listen, because it is a jolt of psychedelic, oozing instrumental wonder and songwriting magnificence.

Whether Mazes are a band that to stand the test of time remains to be seen, but this is an enjoyable, exciting and mostly excellent snapshot of their lives as they are right now; and you can't help but want to join them as the days grow longer and the nights lighter.

Talk About Body is a long, long way from the oblique post-shoegaze blur of chillwave, witch house, ill-bient and experimental dubstep at the cutting edge of the alternative.

Mylo Xyloto may have an oblique title but it's a triumph because the music is anything but.

On the whole, this is an interesting experiment in the creative process, as well as the values of musicianship and friendship.

They've also striven to make their soiree as all-are-welcome as possible. If the latest serving of salad days for indie has to start somewhere, it could do a whole lot worse than here.

When Melua reveals this sensitive side she's amongst the best artists in her easy-on-the-ear field, and she could yet surpass several of her own idols. But The House contains enough forgettable filler to suggest she's some way off delivering a career-defining canon classic.

It all adds up to a record for those who want thrills but don't want them dumb.

They're too bland, too safe and too boring.

While Court Yard Hounds is a well-packaged and produced collection, its songs seem rather ordinary compared to Chicks material

Good news: Lights is an expectations-passing collection that should see fans of the singer's material to date elevating her to superstar status.

While it lacks focus and cohesive identity, the album Paul Banks named after himself does demonstrate that there's more to this artist than previous form suggests

While it might not find itself a massive audience, fans of earthy, charismatic Americana might do well to seek it out for themselves.

Such dark lyrical tropes have served him well in the past, and even the blokey-but-sensitive shtick of his lovably clunky, WTF rhymes are part of a well-honed musical formula. But credit where it's due--he provides something for everyone.

A welcome return, then – let's hope they stick around for a bit longer this time.

It's safe, something of a retreat from past endeavours to a sound more suited to commercial returns in the present.

The lack of a cutting edge doesn't itself mean that such songs aren't lacking in charm, and each one of the 12 compositions that makes up Speed of Darkness does feature a tune that the listener can whistle.

These 10 songs often appear to be just elaborate jams, whipped up in the studio, with a few scribbled-down choruses added along the way.

The songs here are less oikish, more nimble and nuanced, than a lot of Oasis' ponderous later music.

It comprises 11 tracks that sound like intros in search of songs. It is bland of lyric and tinny of sound. The rhythms plod alarmingly.

It layers on the schmaltz but stops short of choking the listener with sentimentality by revealing a wickedly singular wit and some snappy expectations-eschewing cuts.

She doesn't seek to graft herself onto these songs; instead, and with considerable skill, she draws out from them new layers of wit, tenderness and melancholia.

While The Cast of Cheers are shameless rip-off merchants on more than some occasions here, there's evidently ability at work, and a decent ear for a catchy chorus or two.

If there is a fault with this record however, it isn't Faithfull's but her band's, as the playing is perhaps just too polite and polished.