It gets repetitive after a while.

She enlists help from guest artists and DJs to encapsulate the past six years – but there’s no innovation or originality.

Unfortunately it's largely downhill from here [after opener "Silence"].

This album would not be selling or gaining attention if the band consisted of either of the aforementioned, proving that Share the Joy is nothing worth rejoicing.

Raven in the Grave isn't significantly weaker than any of it's predecessors, it's flaws are just significantly more obvious.

Everything that made their self-titled debut forgettable has been brought back and laboriously run into the ground.

There's a lot of kinda clichéd and heavy-handed stuff.

Detractors have long said that Harris’ music is tailor made for background summer playlists you can ignore – listening to this project, it’s hard to disagree.

What Did You Expect has its moments, albeit brief ones.

There is a disappointing flatness to the songwriting, the performances and the general drive of the record. It is the sound of a band going through the motions, scared to make much of a show of themselves for fear of making a mistake.

By draining the grunge and punk influences from their sound and then over-producing every single song, Lucero have effectively become every Southern rock, blues-inspired bar band you've ever heard.

There are, sadly, very few moments on Set the Tone that don’t feel phoned in, awkward, or outright bored. Even the skits feel like a forced attempt to recapture a bit of Ghostface’s zaniness.

When they really let themselves down is on the sappiest songs.

The Libertines, with their second comeback, have chosen the other, “safe” direction, and sacrificed their integrity for it. Doherty sounds tired, abandoning nostalgia for kitschy gestures. Barât has fun, putting on his old jacket and playing rockstar, but he’s not rethinking his role as musician, or portraying growth as a songwriter.

The result is an album that is still adrift at sea, unaware of the musical landscape around them.

The most disappointing aspect about Syd Tha Kid's delivery is her inability to create a remotely compelling protagonist - something Odd Future members have proved themselves more than capable of doing.

The Rapture show that they are as worthy of pupils as they have been for the last decade as teachers. But, unfortunately, they still have a lot to learn.

[The songs'] punchiness and repetitiveness can quickly get on one's nerves, depending on your disposition.

I'd say that MDNA is at the very least "not bad," but frankly, it's worse than bad: it's mediocre.

Van Weezer is the definition of a modern Weezer album: if you go in expecting it to be as dumb and forgettable as other recent Weezer albums, you’re going to get exactly that.

With some rather boring compositions and hokey songwriting, this record doesn't have a lot going for it.

Regardless, even the harshest of words are unlikely to stop this album from being a success. And that, well, is kind of depressing.

The songwriting here is just not very good. And even when the referential tracks are fairly decent, they only would have been minor entries of their era. Shades of Madonna and Avril can’t disguise that there’s no distinguished personality here.

The vast majority of Dark Lane could play in a suburban Baskin Robbins without offending a single soccer mom. Honestly, they’d be unlikely to even notice it was playing. The few songs that would have moms asking to speak to the manager – which are by and large the project’s better offerings – feel more cribbed from younger artists’ playbooks than ever for the Toronto king’s rapidly aging brand.

I Love You Dude is offensive in its banality, and other than that it's so mundane that it's tough to even want to care.

There’s something to be said for burning bright and fast, but with the limp arrival of Y2K! it seems this room went dark long before we were able to leave the party.

The whole thing comes off as either an expensive major label joke or nigh-impenetrable high art concept. Maybe both.

Future This is stuck in some kind of awful, awful limbo between Robert Smith-less Cure and hyperbolic electro dance music.