What he delivers doesn't disappoint, and it's a tantalising glimpse into where R&B might be heading in 2016.

Eight songs, many of which feel too long; recorded in eight cities that don’t really leave their unique mark on the sonic side of the experience; each with a guest who is, at best, an apparition dancing in the shadows of the spot-lit stars; yielding eight largely forgettable arrangements that won’t make a dent on any fan’s all-time top 10.

Want to be whisked away on a euphoric high? You'll have to earn it. Sweaty smile to be plastered across your face? Then put the work in.

Amid the glitz, the hype, the online intrusion, Don Toliver still locates a space to call his own – and that’s what makes ‘Love Sick’ so thrilling.

Quick on the draw, Beans bosses a bite-sized blitz of syllable practice.

There isn’t much of a sense of flow to the album; the songs stand on their own as the poems were meant to stand on their own.

‘Motordrome’ can be hit and miss. ... That being said, there’s a huge amount to recommend here. A clinical, finessed pop record, ‘Motordrome’ utilises its 10 track span to broach a number of fresh ideas.

Largely The Anchoress’ arrival on the scene is a textured and lovingly crafted treat, bursts of melody, backing vocals and tweaked samples making for a lush soundscape.

Any aspect of their music that might have felt lightweight before, at least off the stage, has been eradicated.

Even if the laid-back and relaxed atmospherics are endearing, there’s plenty of room to push the musical perimeters which the London duo fail to take advantage of.

The overriding, inescapable, and most important aspect of ‘Amen,’ though, is that it is fun. Fun to listen to, fun (it seems) to have made and no doubt fun to perform.

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

Higher Truth is by no means groundbreaking but it's damn solid and doesn't truly contain a bad number.

Major Lazer stands for firing on an all cylinders but doesn’t warn against the oomph taking leave of absence, though it does play off the shoulder of the first LP just lovely.

After a few listens you get the feeling Art Brut are generally excited to be recording together again. The time apart has done them the world of good, as the enthusiasm they exude is infectious. Argos’ vocals have aged well and now have a warming tone, but the snarky bite still remains.

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.

Locating solace in his craft, Gunna pushes himself to the limit on an album that somehow finds focus amid the chaos

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

Impressive, but there are misses as well as hits here. Sometimes Cuco’s vocals and lyrics don’t match up to his sonic atmospheres.

M.I.A. stands alone in her own world of pop firing out her mercurial messages, which are as complex as they are captivating. MAYA is a towering work that makes a mockery of rivals and genres.

Another impressive feather in one of the most versatile caps in Parisian pop music.

At turns utterly beautiful and thoroughly frustrating, there is no doubting the tarnished grandeur on display albeit tempered by some unnecessary navel gazing.

Fragile but far from frail.

Most of Welcome Reality is so in your face and predictable it feels like the musical equivalent of a Michael Bay movie: loud, crass, periodically fun, but ultimately forgettable.

It has moments of greatness, some bits even a bit Animal Collective, but as a whole it doesn’t gel into an album you can lost in.

Essentially, this is a cheaper, condensed version of last year’s ‘Singles Collection’, a deluxe wooden box set that housed nine 7” singles and which contained all the singles from those two albums, in addition to the songs found here.

Whereas 'Hey Go' claws at cabaret crushed velvet, and 'Officers Club' funks Scruffily, 'Manalog' is the sole, slightly noodly odd one out on an album of big punchlines, defrosted drum breaks snapping necks like breadsticks, and foibles for the eagle-eared to pick out listen after listen

French’s flow and character may be the same as his previous works, but his stature within the rap world has rocketed.