This sense of rejuvenation is somewhat stunted by the inclusion of some Fratellis standards. The results range from the exhilarating 'Baby Don't You Lie To Me!' to the tediously dull plod of 'Rosanna'.

The only reasonable offering on 'How Does It Feel' is the multi-layered and kaleidoscopic lead single, 'Painted'. Elsewhere, it's the kind of standard by-the-numbers electro-pop that's likely to soundtrack your next visit to the local department store.

Admittedly it’s hardly a new approach of lyricism, but when something classic is done well it’s hard to discredit.

What ultimately makes Stuff Like That There such an appealing record is the obvious delight in performing these songs.

Despite the pristine production and supercharged atmosphere, this feels like his most personal set and where the music falls into more predictable territory, it's kept buoyant by Hammond's emotional warmth and his wistful, contemplative lyrics.

Lianne La Havas has grown up, branched out, written some devastatingly honest songs, and presented a highly competent album.

Sweet Baboo’s gloriously eccentric back catalogue has nevertheless often hinted at the capacity to deliver a truly special record: a glorious, emphatic collection of songs showcasing his truly affecting vocal and knack for ridiculously insistent hooks. No further hints are required for, with The Boombox Ballads, Black has got there.

Fifth effort Depression Cherry is no different, and whilst haters could accuse the duo of being a one trick pony, you must ask yourself if you truly care when the pony is so damn gorgeous.

What it lacks in ambition, it more than makes up for in songwriting.

Despite the overarching quality of the album, its continual, dirge-like range of instrumentation can become a little stifling and songs risk blending into one another.

It may spend a lot of its time reflecting on the past. But as an argument for that now famous district in South Los Angeles and its continued importance and centrality to hip-hop, it’s forceful and convincing, and one that ensures those Hollywood-style ‘COMPTON’ letters will continue to loom large--not just over L.A., but over this genre as a whole.

Overall The Secret History (Volume 1) is a well constructed and complete portrait of an early Pavement, but with the release's main audience being the avid fan (and with all these tracks available on 2002's 'Luxe and Redux' reissue of 'Slanted...') this leaves only the mad and the keen with a turntable who'll truly want it.

The battle between melody and noise at the heart of 'DEATH MAGIC' is a fascinating one, and the twelve songs on which it plays out are damn near bulletproof. Welcome to the most terrifying pop album of 2015.

Dornik has come out of leftfield to release one of the best quality and most addictive pop records of recent times.

In choosing to move down a more percussive path, the Phoenix Foundation set themselves a challenge quite different than those they had previously faced. 80-minute double albums are usually tough to follow, but they've chosen to reconnect with the spirit of the band rather than try to top 'Fandango' in a self-conscious manner, and in doing so have redefined themselves.

The album's ear-catching finish endorses Golden Ticket as a rewardingly receptive, slightly slippery customer to the death.

Where once the band may have occasionally caught your ear, these songs command attention throughout.

It's glittering and electronic, its lyrics and title inspired by Owain Owain's dystopian science fiction novel, and its melodies underpinned with discordant notes and bric-à-brac sonic oddities--but it shares a similarly subversive edge to that record.

These are gloriously creative songs.

It's palpable that the tracks are more at home on the stage, where you can feel the frenetic energy of the record itself, Georgia's boisterous on-stage persona coming through in abundance. On record, sometimes that energy gets lost in a noisy ether, her identity chopped and screwed into fragments.

Sad, contemplative and euphoric in equal measure, The Most Lamentable Tragedy is a true triumph.

These are songs for songwriters, beautifully constructed and realised--after a full rotation, it'd be difficult not to fall in love with this album.

They have plenty to make them stand out from the crowd. The legacy of Seattle grunge is alive and well and being extended in the hands of Strange Wilds.

Marks to Prove It is the most cohesive offering from the Maccabees to date.

It's as personal an album as he's ever written--more than just an amalgamation of the band's previous work, it is perhaps the purest distillation yet of everything that makes them who and what they are: rewarding, confusing, joyous, heartbreaking, immediate and profound, all in one.

Sleaford Mods have managed to express perfectly and effortlessly, what it feels like to live in 21st century Britain and from here, they can only get bigger.

On balance it's still a more than worthy addition to the New Jersey outfit's growing collection.

With one eye on America's rich musical history and one on the future of dance, if his formula needs to be tweaked, it is only by a little.

As a primer, it's pretty effective and the performances are occasionally absorbing, but it's hard to imagine anyone other than the most ardent completist getting excited about it.

This record isn't really comparable to any of Monkeytown's output, but it still stands up alongside it--and not just as a novelty.

The Chemical Brothers continue to buck any notions of a creative burn-out with their strongest release in a decade.

It's not completely unfair to say that Déjà Vu won't be joining the pantheon of great albums any time soon.

It's too early to say if Currents will be the masterpiece that Kevin Parker is remembered for, but not too early to state that this is his best LP yet, a near-perfect album in a body of already remarkably impressive works.

Well worth imbibing.

It can be a little too sterile in places but for the most part, Working Girl shows that Little Boots is a canny operator who, now that she's been given the opportunity to do things on her own terms, has finally shown us what all the fuss was about in the first place.

We really want to like Lantern for its originality; its bravery and its attempt to grasp a genuine uninhibited euphoria that isn't easy pull off. Sadly it just misses the mark way too often and leaves you with fleeting glimpses of what could have been a very exciting album.

A gorgeous, triumphant return.

The focus from all concerned makes the convincingly grisly fiction a lot of fun.

The LP is consistently engaging: a solid rock 'n' roll album crafted by a bunch of talented musicians finding their feet--and sounding like they're having a damn good time in the process.

It can arrest large scale arenas, and Matrixxman's Swiss Army Knife game is indisputable, though it's often used as a plot twist that's not necessarily relatable to the original story.

Without getting too deep and meaningful and forgetting that Distractions is simply an album of indelible punk jams, it's also the sound of a disillusioned and discontented generation, and their collective vitriol speaks volumes for the rest of us.

It's dramatic, emotive, a little cheesy, but magnificently good fun.

It might not cut as hard and sharp as Van Etten, but her careful lullabies ooze with enough steady sadness that when the light finally does break through, typically via bubbling layers of instrumentation doused in near shoegaze-ready echo, the result really is akin to soaring above the pines.

The plethora of guest vocalists (J'Danna, BIXBY, Okmalumkoolkat, Heavy D. & the Boyz) means things stay relatively fresh, but more often than not, it's not enough.

The jury's out on whether Miguel's offerings as a whole are indeed superior to Ocean's, for now he should be content that they share a space at the pinnacle of genre-defining pop music.

Each track possesses its own surge of mind movement propelled by the depth of eclectic sonics, psyche and contemporary wording.

An enlightening journey through the mind of an outsider, but an entirely relatable one.

They've birthed a catchy and danceable summer record which shows plenty of promise but falls short of something great.

These 10 tracks continually buckle under the weight of Flowers' torrid lyrics, mind-numbing cliches, and woefully derivative song structures.

The sound is typically dense but never overwrought with a wide sweep of styles and textures, The Orb being past masters at moulding a huge pool of raw material into a cohesive, listenable whole.

Inji is a good album. It's one of the best albums to have been released this year, which says a lot about Dust's ability as a composer.

Across its 14 tracks, Fingers, Bank Pads & Shoe Prints twitches with endless inventiveness and energy, finding Boo tinkering with vocal snatches as frequently as he skews the beats into ever-more queasily unusual formations, drawing from soul, soundtracks and classic dance music along the way.

An astonishing debut from an essential new band.

It all feels a bit too calculated at times, though when he ventures into the realms of floral Kinks-y psych pop on 'Mystic Mile' or the slack Beach-Boys-via-Mac-Demarco style surf of 'Never Gonna Hold You Like I Do', there's a promising glimmer of the discrete and intrepid artist he could be.

His incorporation of lo-fi house and cosmic techno uplifts through the smallest dosage, and induces a powerful stupor until you're out the other side, perching on a Balearic mountaintop.

The unconventional twists and turns of My Love Is Cool makes Wolf Alice one of the most exciting new bands around.

Alternative Light Source is a worthy successor to 'Rhythm & Stealth', not as sparse or hard hitting but brimming with energy, ideas and familiar Leftfield diaphragm-rattling bass.

On occasion, it gets a little too pleasant, but, when the songs soar, it’s an infectious listen and, with the prospect of summer sunshine ahead, it will serve to soundtrack hazy days.

While familair touchstones remain in place, they are thouroughly eroded and inverted by Doctor L's production adding subtle,a dn not so subtle, layers of noise and distortion along with a throbbing bass presense and post punk reverb.

A solid debut, then, and one most likely coming to a festival stage near you this summer. Buckle up and be satisfied.

A hugely accomplished debut album.

There is a Big League sheen to much of this record which, mercifully, at no point saps the band's wildly abandoned creativity.

FFS manage to combine all the characteristics of what makes each band appealing but the record never veers too close to Franz Ferdinand territory and neither does the supergroup fully embrace the experimental side of Sparks.

This is savvy, intelligent music.

The album is littered with so many clunky lines and cliched conspiracy talk it almost becomes laughable, but the main problem is with the narrative itself which makes next to no sense at all.... Luckily, a good sizeable chunk of this album is good enough to stand alone, stripped of the high-minded concepts.

Denmark's Kölsch repeats the trick of 2013's '1977', hanging on the coattails of the EDM set with a less extravagant set of fireworks but with plenty of instantly recognisable and effectively crafted signposts and set pieces.

A bold, kaleidoscopic funnel of sound, Valet's rich return is worthy of celebration.

The songs that do aim to be bigger however, simply don't stand-up against their previous work or the mellower parts of the album.

PINS still have a long way to go, but they've essentially done what few bands achieve on their second album: made a record more focused and measured while retaining rawness and negating the use of effusive production.

As a collected body of work At.Long.Last.A$AP is far from dreadful, but taken as a whole it lacks the elements of depth and star quality that--having set the bar incredibly high with his debut--many expect from A$AP Rocky.

There's a wild-eyed energy that pulsates throughout Nozinja Lodge's 45-minute length and, while this may be an acquired taste, it captures shangaan electro's kaleidoscopic nature perfectly.

There's nothing completely new here, but fans are sure to be satisfied, at the very least, until the collective's next album arrives.

Will Young is in fine form and, on this evidence, about 70% great.

An emotive, emphatic and often joyous collection of music that plays equally for the head and the heart.

Derulo has stripped away all of those oddities to focus purely on the music and, in the process, has lost much of what sets him apart from the pack.

The joy is in the ambiguity and Braxton's exemplary manipulation of sound and space.

As dense as it is bare, the aural fog and disorientation of alt-techno he has made his own across four albums has Actress throwing himself headfirst into a heap of wires and making sure every choice earns their right to the tracklist.

Occasionally Jaga Jazzist paint themselves into a corner--the ending of the title track plucks an earlier riff out of nowhere and it feels a little like they took the easy way out--but Starfire is never anything less than thrilling.

Mostly, Before We Forgot How To Dream reads a little like a portrait of Bridie's hero Joni Mitchell as a young artist: irreverent, observational and soulful.

The upped slickness does mean the album offers little in the way of the provocative, though, so you may be disappointed by Breakage's leniency, and a wrath that's merely implied.

There is more than enough emotional sensitivity available between the duo without resorting to being just like everyone else, and for that reason (amongst many others) this fragile, coming-of-age album should be celebrated.

Multi-Love undoubtedly reveals Unknown Mortal Orchestra's willingness to reinvent and innovate, yet it's still beset by some of the difficulties that have featured in their previous work.

The understated nature of the score makes it doubtful this will bag many awards or turn many heads but, never mind: grab some headphones and enjoy the ride.

The bottom line: if you're looking for an intelligent summer record then hit download immediately.

For a band consisting of four members, Born Under Saturn is both remarkably adventurous and eclectic.

As much as this collection of instruments can so often deliver the hair-raising tricks we expect, these pieces feel more resonant, more entrenched. The surface level thrills are there, but the impact lingers.

Fading Love feels like a transitional phase in the producer's journey, an accomplished springboard to launch a more definitive statement of intent next time round.

It would be wrong to say that this is an enjoyable album, but it is rewarding in its own way.

The album's weakest points come in the shape of some unnecessary interludes that only act as murky limbos between its better parts.... Other than that, Hiatus Kaiyote have put together a project that is both vibrant and uninhibited in its nature.

The band's fondness for over-long outros means that it occasionally drifts, where a tighter edit would have made it soar. But for the most part this is an entrancing album of spectral lullabies.

Producer MJ (of Hookworms fame) and the band intended to strip things back and become more economical with their sound. While they certainly have achieved this, in this instance it has arguably starved the songs and disallowed them the space to breathe.

Far from a departure, it's more the continuation of a recurring theme--but one that isn't half bad at all.

The music has stark contrasts that work well to portray the emotions of singer Jim James.

If anything, the album is held back by his ambition--imprudent testing falls short of his usual standards. There are lessons to be learned here, and as a document of Tyler's growth, this may well be looked back upon as a watershed moment.

The Past, The Present, The Future has rebooted more of the bad tropes from that era than the good.

Darling Arithmetic finds O'Brien continuing to fashion his sound in this cherished manner, the tales he spawns both introspective and impressive.

Mad and all-consuming, this is music for disillusioned youth with enough wry wordplay to back it up. In all its angst and menace, you can't help but feel liberated.

A notable and accessible triumph.