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.

‘Spell My Name’ [boasts] moments of rich maturity, the kind of lyrical openness that has always made her work so intriguing. Yet there’s also an unwillingness to embrace contemporary movements in R&B, in the manner of, say, Brandy’s recent LP.

While this might not be the most pivotal ‘sad pop’ record from someone who arguably coined the genre, it can stand toe-to-toe with the best of them and few albums have ever been as appropriately named as so sad so sexy.

In no way throwaway, this is a trip.

There’s still plenty to admire here, especially Gracie’s emotionally raw, brittle vocals and despite the record’s shortcomings, this remains a solid, entertaining debut from an exciting new talent.

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

An impressive debut album which will both enlighten and entertain.

A record that thrives on subtlety, ‘Screen Time’ is engaging but never simple, its quiet complexities taking time to truly unfurl amid Thurston Moore's painterly landscapes.

A helter skelter 11 track run-through, ‘Cuts & Bruises’ retains everything that made INHALER’s debt so effective while adding some excellent new elements.

Blink remain true to form, even throwing in a few sub-1 minute swearword screamers, but with the band back together and continuing to go through life, it seems their form is grounded in something firmer.

There’s still a fair amount of self indulgence, and the rare occasion on which you wish he’d stuck to the old habit of micro length tracks (‘HER’ being one such example), but on the whole it’s a well selected body of work.

[Fragrant World] is a further evolution of the band's interests in Eighties electro and contemporary R&B.

Simultaneously depressing and uplifting, evil and camp, it's an inspiring, majestic paradox of an album.

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.

Calling this 'No Waves' suggests a symbolic sympatico bond between the duo, best evidenced by the graceful way that Gordon and Nace hone in on controlling this beautiful racket with apparent ease.

Here Come The Bombs' is fresh and stylish and marks Coombes' finest work in over a decade. A triumph.

Catchy melodies abound in an eclectic, engaging effort.

Anthems For Doomed Youth will bring more joy to the fans than the naysayers may suspect.

It’s by no means a bad record, but won’t be the trap pioneer’s most memorable either.

‘A Beautiful Revolution Pt. 2’ stares down the traumas that proliferate our lives, offering hope, creativity, and soul filtered through Common’s profound hip-hop vision.

It’s an eclectic mix, and the quality’s as variable as the sound. But by jumping from style to style, and showcasing artists who really ought to be better known, Snoop keeps the party as scrumptiously enjoyable as his recipe for Spaghetti de la Hood. And that’s all he’s really trying to do.

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.

Fans looking for a haphazard exercise in DIY should revisit the band's earlier effort, but will nonetheless be greatly rewarded by this deftly crafted slacker opus.

She’s brought herself to the very edge creatively, and the resulting album is stunning. She has earned this moment of glorious reflection.

With the veteran experimentalists on a self-imposed hiatus--and now a drummer light--Not Music offers a stopgap if not a final full stop to a kaleidoscopic career.

Favouring shamelessly blokey call-and-response hooks and not averse to "woos" and "woah-woah-woahs", these tales of love chased, lost and briefly enjoyed are delivered with an infectious enthusiasm and blessed with production by Edwyn Collins.

Heavily indebted to ‘90s indie pop but never boringly reverential - it’s the sound of a band mining the past into a vibrant future.

At times soft, at other times thick with sinew, 'Not In Chronological Order' allows Julia Michaels to parade her immense talent as a songwriter, as well as her charismatic, oh-so-expressive voice.