The Soul Sessions Vol 2 is Stone's most focused and rewarding album since Vol 1.

It's camp, but it's shadowy. It's epic, but it's introvert. It's highly peculiar, yet hugely commercial. It's one big, beautiful oxymoron.

You could argue that A Joyful Noise is the album Madonna should be brave enough to make. But it might also be the case that it's the album that Gossip should have been brave enough not to.

As it is, it's simply the next Leona Lewis album.

Francis is a trick-free troubadour and for all The Remedy's rather monotone approach, there may not be a more personal album in 2012.

In Case You Didn't Know doesn't surprise, but it certainly fulfils.

Apart from the odd soulful moment and some clever production, there is nothing here that sets them apart from their obvious influences.

Raucous boot-stompers kick up the dust around soppy slowies, with many a chorus dripping with the sort of gooey gobbledygook that typifies a thousand rom-coms.

Those glimpses on Perfect Symmetry of something flashier and sexier make this retreat to familiarity a somewhat saddening step backwards.

It's not particularly clever, but it is expectedly big: if you're a Carey fan with a stocking that needs filling this year, this'll perk you up better than any alternative speech or sherry trifle could.

A marvellous little record where improvisation rubs shoulders with immediacy.

Sadly, the songs here are slight and flimsy. Most of them sound like blink-and-you’ll-miss-it backing tracks for under-performing American drama series, pleasant and wholesome as a high-street sandwich, but instantly forgettable.

It's hard to tell how serious De Luca is being here, so over the top is everything (there's a song called Fish in the Sky. No, really). It could be misconstrued as a parody of 70s and 80s musical mores, cramming as it does all manner of instrumental bombast and excess into its 50 minutes.

To use a fishy term, McCartney well and truly floundered with this one.

What saves Grey Oceans is the occasional good idea: the Eastern-tinged Smokey Taboo mixes tablas and wilting strings with Bianca's woozy, half-rapped vocal to impressive effect, while the very peculiar Fairy Paradise is, more or less, Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy as remixed by Paul van Dyk.

Fewer Pro Tool and more risks, and Dhani might just be onto something.

Hearing these songs in any format is a tremendous pleasure, and Hucknall here does them credit.

There is truly nothing edgy about this collection.

Despite being disabled with rotten cover art, Ritual is a sturdy affair, and one that should continue White Lies' steady ascent towards something serious and important.

If you thought him too weird for your tastes previously, Tha Carter IV is the album to introduce you to the never boring world of an artist whose importance remains so significant that, should he finally collapse like the star he is, he's likely to take half the rap game with him.

There are some fine songs on Natural History, which deserve better than being presented as if they were museum exhibits.

Generation Freakshow is more mature, more considered, and less noisy, but it's nonetheless got Feeder stamped all over it.

While lyrical simplicity is welcomed when attached to music that dazzles, here it regularly sounds predictable.

By trying to interpret a whole new landscape and atmosphere, Howling Bells have compromised their strengths in an awkward attempt to force themselves into a new style.

As difficult as it is to take Edgar seriously at times, so earnest is he about his sexualised sonic seercraft that resistance is futile. In short spurts, Majenta's kosmische perv-core satiates.

Thoughtful rap that deserves mainstream attention.

Something for the Rest of Us is every bit as easy on the ear as each of their albums has been since 98's big-league breakthrough, Dizzy Up the Girl.

Right now, for all its impressive fireworks, it feels hollow as its title.