He should be commended for going light on the MC features--the bluntly-titled ‘Grime’ is proof enough that he can hold his own on a beat.

Ice On The Dune is patchy, and shows little progression from 2008 debut, ‘Walking On A Dream’.

Turner’s inconsistent seventh LP may not compare with the likes of ‘Love Ire & Song’ and ‘Poetry Of The Deed’ but a willingness to experiment paired with a deceptively simple message make it a decent, if unremarkable addition to his stellar back catalogue.

Patchy with flashes of killer bee sting.

It’s a slight, undemanding effort, and there’s charm to be found if you’re willing to meet the band halfway.

Its straightforward, no bells and whistles approach is at once its greatest appeal and its most obvious shortcoming. Doris & The Daggers is deliciously satisfying beer rock--nothing more, nothing less.

At times the lyrical component can leave you cold.

Head Carrier is far from triumphant, it’s by no means a failure.

Despite the vast flavours Bibio is presenting throughout this record, so much of the quality production is slighted by tracing the same predictable frequencies and manoeuvres as so many servile songwriters leagues below have made prospering careers out of.

It's a shame, then, that these creations occasionally meander into somewhat monotonous territories.

There are enough moments of musical eclecticism here to suggest that Built On Glass is his solid starting point, rather than a definitive statement.

There are strong highlights across the set, despite this, the failure to be concise forms part of the force's biggest downfalls.

With more attention paid to plucked triads and syncopation than packing any sort of resolute punch, This Is All Yours just can’t see the wood for the trees.

The record is funky, it might sound good near some waves (the title is also a play on the .wav format for digital music files, which Harris is constantly sending to studios across the world), and the beats generally bounce happily along. It does what it says on the tin.

Many fans will still be happy with the change that Beauty Behind The Madness has brought but some will surely feel the album has nothing to offer except immediate accessibility for the short attention of the mainstream.

While Bailey’s true-to-self, organic approach on Revelations should be celebrated, the record serves more as a transition than a defining peg in Bailey’s young career.

Not a great pop album, then, but certainly the product of a great pop star.

Wasted Daylight, a sugary, ambient number, offers a particularly sublime performance from Millan, as does He Dreams He's Awake, of Campbell. However, these two are the fairly obvious highlights in an otherwise misfired effort.

It's more a relic of the past than a record of the future.

They could do with a couple more uptempo nuggets like 'The Kids Were Wrong'.

Guaranteed to make you cry sugar-coated tears or vomit Care Bears depending on your tastes.

Welcome To Sideways sits comfortably amongst older material, but is more regressive than revolutionary.

Neither offensive nor inventive this album is a bit like a bag of Rainbow Drops; thrillingly pretty but ultimately full of air.

Despite his obvious talents as a pop-soul vocalist, you're left with the impression that Woon is far more interesting when he's wearing his producer hat, but we'll keep a sturdy eye on his every move regardless.

There's nothing here to write home about but it should make a nice stocking filler for Mum.

Unfortunately their laudable desire to sound like the future rather than the past seems to have backfired, leaving ‘Paradise' a crop of good ideas that wear quickly on the ears. On the plus side this overly polished sound might help convert at least a few godforsaken You Me at Six fans onto real punk (that is, if real punk will have them).

At times uneven, the project stands as testament to the unique bond between these two A-list rap talents.

The album wears a multitude of influences on its sleeve, containing elements of hip-hop, house, disco and funk, but ultimately there is a distinct lack of variation amongst the thirteen tracks.

Infuriatingly irresistible.

In spite of much of ‘CHARLIE’ missing complexity or a distinctive flair, the album remains punchy and bright and what Puth lacks in poetry, he makes up for with glimpses of pure pop excellence.

Rainbow is a muddled hotch-potch that offers little beyond the fact it heralds her return. It's great to have Kesha back--it really is--but let's hope the quality improves in future.

This might not be as immediate and catchy as previous Animal Collective releases, possibly due to Panda Bear’s absence, but its one of their most transfixing and beguiling.

The full length return of The Streets, it offers Mike Skinner at his most vivid and most forgettable, offering moments of illumination before retreating into darkness.

While songs 'Bondage Of Fate', 'If You Want It' and 'Sometimes' present a classic vibe, standalone track 'Pulse' is equally akin to the electronic sound of today. Nice touch.

It's alright and will shift units: boundaries will rest easy however.

Madame X isn’t just an album (if it is that at all) – it’s an opera, or a comedy of errors. It’ll make you feel confusion, frustration, happiness and maybe joy, but it will definitely make you feel.

RL Grime seemingly wants to keep everyone happy and while that approach will almost certainly find success in the clubs or the fields of Coachella it often hinders rather than helps his studio efforts.

The Doom-helmed ‘Lil Mufukuz’ and Phat Kat’s ‘Bubble Up’ show the Dabrye-plus-MC chemistry at its best, but if there was ever a criticism of the previous entries in this trilogy, it was that Dabrye struggled when it came to trimming the tracklist. ... The same is unfortunately the case here too.

When it punches hard, ‘Jose’ doesn’t miss. ... Yet ‘Jose’ – like Drake and Kanye’s efforts, previously – is led down by quality control. The creativity is undiminished, but it struggles under the weight of its 24 track span – clocking in at more than hour, the record at times tries the patience.

A mixed bag that's perhaps polluted with Toddla's inevitable fame and fortune.

It doesn’t really coalesce into a total success, despite some unquestionably fun moments, clear skill and grand ambition.

There’s no denying, though, that ‘LOOM’ does feel slight. In the era of weighty releases profiled for streaming audiences a mere 10 tracks does seem underwhelming – one song is actually repeated twice, but with added J Balvin for more impact. Far from a disaster, it’s an album that dares to be succinct, but also feels blunt.

There's a lot of slightly tedious ambient wallpaper. Sure, it works to unite an otherwise diverse set of songs, but you can't help but think there's a much better play list waiting to be whittled down.

Always Inside Your Head is often a frustrating album, peppered with sparks of genius and disappointing dead-ends. Ultimately, though, it’s another example of an artist constantly – restlessly, you might say – developing.

Clocking in at almost 72 minutes, Sukierae is a bloated, if lulling, listen.

As unconventional in approach as ever, the set extrapolates from their previous ventures and results in a confident and competent continuation of established qualities.

AIM may be not the magnum opus that Mathangi Arulpragasam is capable of, but the music world would be a good deal less colourful and quirky without her in it.

For all of John Kowalski and Rian Trench’s accomplished textures and impressive ’80s sci-fi sheen, it’s these [songs "Happiness Is A Warm Spacestation" and "A Sky Darkly"] simmering, slow burning heavyweights that give Supermigration the thunder it needs.

In its entirety Marble Skies is a mixed bag that showcases the multitude of genres Django Django can draw upon, but it lacks cohesion.

I Used To Spend So Much Time Alone sees the Seattle group recede deeper into their comfort zone with a batch of tracks that are lukewarm at best.

Season High is a pleasant ride--a breezy escapade through dreamlands and ultraviolet meadows. It’s a sometimes sickly-sweet concoction that’ll leave you once or twice with the feeling of overindulgence.

Swift’s unencumbered analysis of the tectonic shifts within her personal and public life are equal parts razor sharp and self-indulgent. But as a pop album, Reputation is never revolutionary, the adrenalin rush heady but ultimately short-lived.

As an exercise in reclaiming control, in setting out her stall, it is a definite success, a hand-made pop exercise in an era dominated by algorithmic marketing plans. As a listening experience, though, it’s somewhat limited and frustratingly repetitive, ultimately paling next to La Roux’s previous heights.

The world of hip-hop and rap is changing and, while Future’s pattern works well, it becomes slightly repetitive with every listen.

Loose vocals meander through the whirling haze, the album more suited to intimate, personal listening rather than gatherings in the sun.

It’s an album that Beths fans will doubtless like very much, and it offers a strong mission statement to the future that this is a band hungry to expand and determined to explore the hitherto untrodden ground. It’s just a shame that, on this project alone, they’ve not delivered anything of career-defining merit.

It’s just sad to hear the spark of reinvention that ignited their last powder keg of an album confined to a handful of tracks on a largely mediocre album. They can do better. They have done better. They will do better again.

YACHT have consciously positioned themselves as intelligent conceptualists, not wanting to adhere to what's expected of them, and that makes for an interesting amalgam of deep themes set to brazenly outlandish pop styles.

The highlights on this project are the glimpses of musical experimentation, but unfortunately the album doesn’t have enough of these to really shine.

While the album is as subtle as a brick to the face, there is an impressive mix of styles represented on the band’s third outing, making this their most versatile listen.

With a 19-track span and a colossal guest cast, not everything on ‘BLOCKBUSTA’ lands. There’s a feeling sometimes that these collaborations were done separately and then spliced together, with some moments lacking cohesion, or a sense of chemistry. ‘HOMAGE’ with Kodak Black feels flat, for example, while the record’s eclecticism prevents ‘BLOCKBUSTA’ from truly coalescing. That said, there are moments of real bravery.

It's no secret that remix albums are often tricky affairs, especially when meshed with beloved rock songs. Luckily everything off Pony's dark twin is enjoyable, if not essential sounding. Overall, it’s a fun curio worth exploring and saving a few of its more ambient moments.

‘COMING HOME’ competently portrays love as part Afrodisiac, part pulse-racing chase, part languorous and lived-in sensation. ‘COMING HOME’ is also tangential to the live spectacle, and that’s okay.

This is cheerful childhood innocence come to life - candy-floss dreams and rainbow rivers.

The chilled, languorous template delivers on value, but offers little else and you can’t help but feel like these are unnecessary filler tracks. At its core, ‘Scarlet’ is an interesting exploration into the world of ego trips, the trappings of fame, escapism and novelty, a welcome deviation with a heightened sense of maturity and finesse.

There’s quiet beauty here.

With production by Richard Goettehrer, who has worked with Blondie, the Go-Gos and others, sees the Dum Dum Girls sound achieve an authentic, balanced sound, deliberately lo-fi and tinny yet listenable and intoxicating.

While there’s certainly more emphasis on melody this time around, it’s brought about through noticeably more mature, more refined compositions.

Its primary strength lies in the way Drake threads himself and finds pockets within the grooves and crevices, foregoing lustre and grandiosity in favour of an understated performance piece. .... There’s an existential paranoia about this recent iteration of Drake, however.

Aubrey Graham hands over his fifth project to cross 80 minutes, an hour and a half smorgasbord of all-new tracks. In his defence, the Drake cuisine is far too extensive and varied at this point, but this dilemma has been around for a number of years now and some sort of sacrifice for a better, more cohesive project has to be made if he wants to release another classic.

In her haste to tell her story, ‘My 21stCentury Blues’ suffers from a frenzied second half that cushions the gut-punch it could have been.

As debut offerings often go, there’s a fervent desire on Mind of Mine to stretch so far and wide that the cohesiveness of the record is lumbered as a result. The tracklist could have been refined to ten good tracks (most of which are on the bonus edition).

While every track on The Haunted Man is brimming with invention, there's little to keep you coming back for repeat listens.

Despite lending his rich, soulful vocals to an eclectic collection of tracks, including versions of songs originally by Coldplay and Wye Oak, the streamlined, country-tinged production waters the songs down.

While there’s nothing particularly original or ground-breaking about this debut, CATB is a band that’s mastered the art of writing tunes that connect with an audience, and at a time when commercial rock is, apparently, at a particularly low ebb, that could serve them very well.

His prodigious talent is undoubted, but a second dose of puppy punk feels suggests Baldi is in cruise control.

Random Access Memories confuses, disappoints and grates.

Good stuff, but their epics, like 'The Quick Mile', are curiously unengaging. When that track is immediately followed up by the captivating Eno-esque minimalism of 'Waves & Radiation', it's clear that their real talent still lies in crafting eerie electronic vistas.

Album stand-outs ‘Heavy, California’ and ‘Happy Man’ would have slotted into the last LP seamlessly and, considered as a whole, For Ever feels like an opportunity missed.

The speed-rock splendour of ‘Lowtalkin’’ put to one side, the band’s career prospects and longevity probably lie in the strained emotional hypnotism of the more muted, more self-conscious moments.

The album’s lacking that one standout moment to make it a truly transformative experience. Still, the scope and ambition are to be applauded, and it’s a treat to take a voyage around his mind and beyond.

Teeth Dreams is the New Yorkers’ burliest record to date, less feel-good and chorus-driven than previous efforts, but there’s still much to love

Some of the tracks are so light and delicate, you worry they might blow away in the breeze. But the pace occasionally picks up, as on ‘Highway Blue’ which whistles along on a jaunty groove, while a punchy horn section on ‘Good Ol Night’ adds further colour.

However dreamy the music may be, mind, it's not all quite so heavenly. The main distraction is how overwrought it all is. This is especially prevalent in Granduciel's lyrics which he sings in whispered reverence.

Drawing on a cast of helpers, most notably Madness' Suggs and Mike Barson, the album boasts their usual eclectic mash of styles, all held together under the Audio Bullys flag.

While there’s nothing that will diminish their legacy or standing in rock music, there’s very little material that pushes the band forward either.

Some of the punkier elements of old are fighting with the grandeur aims of the future. At a time when a new generation of artists is doing inventive things to revitalise guitar music once more, two minutes of snot-nosed punk riffs don’t hold the same sway they once did.

While the sheer breadth of Wait ‘Til Night can’t fail to impress, the album lacks certain cohesiveness. That said, there’s an honest creativity here that ripples through proceedings.

If Deenmamode tempers his idiosyncrasies just a little, allowing his music to breathe better, the results can be even more profound.

This latest from Lindstrøm weighs to heavy on the pedestrian side. Sure, the whole package is professionally crafted and confidently gets you drifting away from your day-to-day woes, but what we really need is for Chewie to punch it into hyperspace.

Herring’s growling vocals prevent proceedings from becoming too gloopy or nostalgic, and make Singles a new-wave treasure.

The result is a solid, if overly safe album that avoids some of the pitfalls of the past but fails to ignite the heart.

It’s a refreshing diversion from yer average psych-noise fare that’ll hopefully be explored further on future offerings.

Booming walls of sound are favoured at the expense of nuance, leaving Belong too regularly thirsting for a banner hit, and ultimately, offering a perfect example of why bigger isn’t always better.

Running to an hour long, Magna Carta becomes exhausting, bumping familiar motifs with such frequency that, as the album nears its close, the senses feel entirely numbed.

Sadly much of the rest of Music Complete is by-the-numbers New Order, and revisionary as opposed to revolutionary.

At their best though, Junip’s exotic folk gems have a slow-burning charm and are an impressive step forward from Gonzalez’s easy listening cover versions.

Collapse Into Now suffers somewhat. It's good. But it's no Reckoning. Or Document. Or Automatic For The People. Or...