Things are prone to occasional lulls with three tracks exceeding ten minutes. However, Johansson is capable of some beautifully stirring music, and when this album soars, it is a treat.

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.

MNEK absolutely knows his way around a pop banger, and it’s his expansive, polished production on more upbeat moments that saves Language from falling flat with cliché lyrics and the dreary lament of slower tracks.

It’s not expressly about anything. This is music that performs confidence, that uses confidence as a genre rather than embodying it in any convincing sense.

Dear River is an interesting collection but, while pretty, these songs sometimes sound a little too slick or obvious.

It's a band comfortable with the idea of growing up but like kids trying on their parent's clothes, the ideas behind Aabenbaringen Over Aaskammen are a little oversized but not by much.

For such a young talent, his lyrics are strong, but give him a few more years of life experience and they could be in a different league.

THE S.L.P is safe. It’s the untainted evidence of a missed opportunity. Frankly, someone of Serge’s caliber could have plunged deeper into the void of sonic exploration. There’s always a next time.

While A Moment Apart has the foundations of a great album, ODESZA fall slightly short of the mark.

As attempts at storming the mainstream go, this looks like a surefire winner, but musically it feels like a lesser take on Outkast's The Love Below.

The lush arrangements highlight his sophistication as a songwriter--‘Impossible’ comes on like ABBA gone synthwave--if sometimes verging towards the saccharine with repeated exposure. Yet this latest collection finds C Duncan in rude health.

It's got a sweet, easy intimacy.

This album is, to be clear, an ambitious, stylish, coherent work of fine art. ‘Tranquility Base…’ grew on me, this may too. But I can’t help but feel that with ‘The Car’, Arctic Monkeys have taken a wrong turn.

With clean production and virtuoisitic precision, imagine a Latin, metal, jazz inspired mellow mele, on acoustic instruments.

Everyone involved on this slab of hertz has brought far too much to the table over the years to dismiss this and the record really works.

Ideas are left unexplored, while 2Chainz innate abilities – on his day, one of the best MCs around – is clouded by a willingness to pack the tracklisting with guests. If this truly is his last trap project, then perhaps a change is overdue.

Flawed but unbowed, it is a fascinating but frustrating listen.

Overall, a pleasantly harmless album with some clear highlights. However, it will be interesting to see how the US singer varies her work as she begins her solo career.

Overall it's a robust, respectable detour but will leave some fans pining for the smoky chanteuse of old.

It's all very "nice" but only sporadically truly vital.

While the album is undeniably well produced and generally well performed, unfortunately Woods' fails in his first attempt to stand out from the crowd.

Suck It And See is not a disappointment, because we've learned never to expect the Monkeys' next move, but it's not half as fun as we'd like it to be.

They’re worth the minor missteps along the way.

Swift’s vocals are triumphant, soaring, wild throughout--she is a fantastic singer, and 1989 does showcase her ability to attack a track of any style and claim it as her own, even if the ultimate results feel like a compromise had to be found to make the final cut.

A bizarre little record, Music And Words was seemingly kicked off in 2007. With a seven-year gestation, it would be nigh on impossible to maintain a full sense of coherency, but the twin artists just about manage it.

Music and performer as one, it's hard to know where I Break Horses begin and their walls of sound end. Vocalist and Swedish nephilim Maria Lindén is a calming apparition, yet indeterminate when overpowered by the huge celestial sheets of Fredrik Balck's new wave order.

The frustration bubbles under the surface for the listener, that, competent and effecting as this album is, it could have been so much more. Here’s to next time.

On an album centring around concepts of storytelling and reflection, Iggy Pop’s voice remains phenomenal. It always will. However, an underwhelming feeling lingers throughout 'Free', one which is hard to ignore.

Good, but for completists.

If that's not your bag, then this won't convert you, but if intrigue you have; then check it out.

By focussing in on softer deployments of electronics and more subtle processing, and staying resolutely in an ambient soundworld, Art In The Age Of Automation does feel comparatively safe; well turned-out and nicely polished, but generally risk-free in execution.

The real issue with the album though, more than any other, is its length (and the inconsistency that this brings with it). Few albums ever benefit from being 17 tracks long, particularly when there are obvious candidates for exclusion. And without wanting to sound too dismissive of the aforementioned chart ambitions, it’s here that sacrifices could have been made for the benefit of a more coherent and engaging record.

So the bleakly beautiful is still there, but the flashes are sporadic.

Ending with an attempt to find hope amid despair on ‘Darkest Hour’, ‘Faith’ is tailor-made to thrill their mass army of fans, balancing fresh ideas with that glamorous melancholy.

Artistic development and risk-taking is to be applauded. With risk, though, comes the possibility of mis-steps. Sadly, here, this is what it feels like Tamaryn's done.

Between Waves is an album created by a man who knows what he’s doing; and that’s the problem. He could create satisfactory albums till the end of days, but he’ll need to rip up the rulebook if he’s to grab people’s attention in this fickle age.

There are plenty of hooks and the pace rarely relents, but it’s hard to ever imagine Colors ever being in anyone’s top five favourite Beck albums.

Unfortunately, with much of the record polished to a dull gleam, there’s little else that succeeds in rising above a pleasant but otherwise unremarkable album.

Everyone loves to reminisce, and we're suckers for well-crafted songs, but we also need to be challenged a little more than this boys.

Like acid (which, again, he never touched) this record is illuminating, often inaccessible, often scary and most people would hate it. But it's still one hell of a trip.

Dusty Notes is an easy listen, but a Meat Puppets album shouldn’t be easy--it should be a hot mess. Somewhere along the way the Kirkwood brothers lost the ramshackle charm that made them everyone’s favourite musician’s favourite musician.

Malkmus' third (or fourth depending on which folklore you believe) outing with The Jicks, is a disappointing collection of hits and misses--with the latter winning on points.

Marina describes the album as “intricately produced” and that’s where the problem lies. Such attention to detail leaves some of the songs feeling pretty sterile and, as a result, it’s a frustrating listen.

The first half of the LP is phenomenal.... Despite some scorching vocal interplay, there’s a noticeable drop in quality on later tracks.

Whilst each track delivers exactly what is to be expected from an IAK album it is a little disappointing that there seems to have been no development from the previous outing.

It’s an accomplished album, but it feels like a debut and there is nothing here that gives any kind of excitement or majorly distinguishing feature that comes with time.

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.

This awareness of his public perception seems to dominate the album, even in the tracks that don’t outright address it. As a result, the overall mood is far less authentic.

Sharing the pop soul sensibilities of Squeeze with just a dash of Brendan Benson, there's even a soupçon of harpsichord in there. What's not to like about these small songs with a big heart?

Lee ... continues his proclivity for sonic innovation with a plethora of funky grooves and drum lines - with no loops in earshot. AM's psychedelic guitar licks, basslines and vocals underpin an overriding '60s vibe.

The grooves might be intelligently crafted, with plenty of interesting rhythmical quirks throughout, but the songs themselves hold little water.

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.

For all its forward thinking, the combination of shoe-gaze and synthy electronica leads the record inevitably back to the 1980s, mirroring the haunting sound that M83 have perfected so well.

The Time Is Now hangs together relatively well, and achieves what it sets out to do.

Lyrically, there are interesting ruminations on the trappings of fame ('(I Wanna Live In A Dream In My) Record Machine') and his troubled mind ('Broken Arrow'), while the album is all the better for losing some of the bravado Noel hid behind while writing for Liam--but there are admittedly some clunkers.

At times this record appears confused and lackluster but its solid moments show GIRLI’s capability at being a rebellious and riotous pop star--qualities that were so prominent on her early singles.

The whole album somewhat lacks the same energy, punch and pure magic that The Black Keys have.

You can't help but feel that the teasing at euphoria on Slow Knife would be a little less frustrating if the thing were allowed to crescendo further, and for some of that drumwork to be incorporated accordingly.

As with the twin EPs that preceded it, however, the glimpses of originality strewn across ‘Lovegaze’ are too often sparse islands in a sea of pleasant but generic etherea.

‘Everything I Thought It Was’ can sometimes be forgettable across its 18-track largesse, while thematically it feels bunched around a cluster of feelings.

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

‘Run Me Dry’ plays a la mode with a loose dembow rhythm, but, as with the rest of the album, there are plenty of others out there who’ve not only done this already but done it more engagingly.

Yes, the album title is an apt one; but despite its predictability, it proves to be surprisingly fulfilling as a run-of-the-mill house album.

Intimate moments, however, like the haunting, heartbroken folk of ‘Tightwire’ show how primal this fourth studio collection could have been.

Album closer ‘Joy Ride’ does exactly what it says on the tin; it’s a joyous, perfectly assembled pop track. That’s not to say that the Kickstarter-funded LP is hit after hit--the bright and brash ‘It’s Sunny’ with its oddly theatrical tropes is a cheesy misstep.

Whilst previous albums were energetic and exuberant in scope, Eve largely lacks the duo’s trademark vigour and moments of originality.

Broad to the point of contradiction, it’s a record that covers a lot of bases, while lacking a singular purpose. It’s almost as if KNEECAP are enacting a cartoonish version of their own lives – it’s fun, but ultimately two-dimensional.

This is electronic music both messy and menacing. Listen if you dare.

We get a less focused effort, with peaks and troughs in its quality. Yet the best tracks off the album are better than any of the band’s previous work. It’s just a shame that the weaker songs fall below the standard The 1975 set for themselves.

Reid’s soundtrack is vibrant, but it can’t save the album from its own tedium.

Whilst her lyrical ability is still under question, there’s no doubting her ability to arrange a band and alter the mood and meanings of some undying classics.

It’s a theatrical 10-piece song cycle that neatly extends their work, while nodding to what came before. At its best – opener and lead single ‘I Still Have Faith In You’ for example – it comes close to reaching the transformative peaks ABBA scaled all those years ago. Yet for a piece of fan service ‘Voyage’ remains confusingly slight.

I Love You, Dude feels as blunt and oafish as its name, and weirdly dated in its sonic palette. Sporadically engaging, but sadly nothing more.

The problem, however, is that the record suffers from a lack of variety and an overkill of nostalgia, while of a raft of identikit, if solid, guest vocalists it’s only Hot Chip’s Alexis Taylor who really stands out.

Some decent-enough songs on an overly long album mostly containing sub-par tracks from an artist capable of much more.

The songs are simple sing-alongs with some lovely hooks--but trying to open his sound to random ideas and new styles just doesn’t seem to suit.

A grandiose, instrumental finale, they're a reminder of the divinity that Moby was once capable of.

["Night and Day" and "Flutes"] are glimmers of liveliness on an otherwise decedent record.

Not without its faults, In Plain Sight sees Honeyblood explore new avenues and break-out of any box they were previously placed in, with a genre-less collection of honest, futuristic-sounding songs.

All the usual suspects are in place as you would suspect from a band with, let's be honest, not that many hits of the great variety.

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.

‘Curtain Call 2’ is at its most engaging when the Detroit figure simply cuts back on the Billboard tie-ins, and reminds us all why he became such a revered rapper in the first place. ... As a project, however, ‘Curtain Call 2’ is weighed down by its flaws. There’s no ignoring the wayward path Eminem has taken over the past two decades, and the tracklisting reflects this.

Meh. It's alright, but I'm like... I'm like a bit bored, actually.

While sweetened by a potent handful of emphatic guitar romps, DIIV’s latest record quickly overstays its welcome, and ultimately would do well to be remembered as more than just a watered-down collection of indie rock songs.

Why You So Crazy? is a mixed bag, but the scales are tipped too far towards the underwhelming. Too much is poorly executed and feels incomplete, with an air of self-indulgence.

Apart from perhaps three exceptions, most of these tracks get lost in their own elegant, introspective and lovelorn swirl of tedious easy listening.

So par for the course, it should come with its own small pencil and scorecard.

This album is a step in the right direction in terms of mood, but it’s an overstep in terms of the emotional burden Brown is offering. The choruses are repetitive and don’t fit, and the take away should be focusing more on balance. However, it’s not a question of if he can get that balance right, but when.

Rather than a coherent and recognisable new sound, it seems as though all manner of ideas are being thrown at the wall to see what sticks.

There’s nothing inherently bad, but the whole venture feels akin to buying a Lamborghini and then driving it in a way that will maximise fuel efficiency.

Like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, La Di Da Di too often feels like a soulless automaton tearing around on autopilot. If only it had a heart.

The results are mixed.

Alas, a good third of the album meanders and there's a drab formlessness to his sonic fog. Fascinating but flawed.

Where previous Colourmusic albums were spiky, unpredictable things, this set often feels content just to wallow in an amorphous sonic soup.

When it’s good, it’s very, very good, but for most of the time it’s really quite bland.

Unfortunately, the resultant package is very cleverly constructed and yet maddeningly dull.

The musical equivalent of a coffee table book this is a poised, polished album of covers and collaborations spanning a decade.

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'.