Gallery is an enjoyable offering from Craft Spells.

Unfortunately, none of the later tracks hit with the same urgency as the first few. The album is a fun listen, still, and one that encapsulates that Polaroid summer we’re all after.

Ultimately, it feels as if she’s still waiting for her words and her sound to match up, but what we’ve got in the meantime is an intriguingly personal record.

This album may declare itself a painting--and an intense one, at that--but there’s a much bigger picture to see here.

Gaz’s third solo offering continues to find him moving into his next phase with real class.

There’s enough for fans to enjoy across ‘Lifeforms’, but it is not as lofty as it perhaps thinks itself to be.

Although accomplished in its tone, ‘I Won’t Care How You Remember Me’ longs for dynamic crescendos to differentiate the album’s eleven tracks, no matter how pleasant they may be.

A potent mix of influences, it manages to sound equally focused and effortless - the work of a true performer.

‘Airhead’ is a piece of bubblegum goodness, ‘Haunted’ is a celestial sizzler, while ‘Jumper’ almost calls back to 00s pop-punk classics (with an AG spin, obv) and closer ‘Lifeline’ is a sprawling synth slowburner. Though sprinkled with bops, ‘Apple’ doesn’t pack the expected punch.

Nick would do better to stick to his signature rippling guitar on the ethereal ‘Infinite Trees’, the quietly sensual ‘Lullaby’, or, best yet, the charming ‘Remembering’, which chugs along with a jolty percussive joy.

While it might lack some of the emotional resonance that the absolute best of their peers can achieve SYB should be commended for getting the pain parts of the deceptively tricky pop-rock jigsaw together with some aplomb.

Each and every track has its own identity that perfectly mixes the familiar with the unfamiliar, which is simply a continuation of what The Notwist have always been best at.

While he proves in spades that he’s not merely a throwback artist who has to rely on nostalgia, the mishmash of sounds coming from the album does feel a little muddled at times.

'Sit Tight', 'Melting', 'Never Get Tired' and 'All In One Day' all make you imagine the band having a really grand time recording this, but you'd have a hard time figuring out where these songs are going.

The strength of All We Need is in how he filters the madness into a slick, easy-flowing record. If one album changed his life, he’s taken that knowledge to make something intentionally cohesive.

Kiesza may have already dominated the charts and club scene, but she’s got a whole lot more tricks up her sleeve.

It isn't quite as defined or as consistent as his work with Gang Gang Dance, but through persistence it certainly comes close.

What seems to work best--in the fact that it stands out from other pop-punk solo artists--is the more hypnotic, vintage cuts.

There are times, however, when the mix doesn’t quite lend Björk’s message enough power. ... For the most part, Utopia sounds like an album where she’s followed her own advice. It demonstrates how the Icelandic alt-pop legend has pushed past her own emotional turmoil, taking yet another step in her ever-evolving saga, one that sets a path for future endeavours.

Preternaturals is graceful and intriguing, if not vastly pulse quickening.

There’s still plenty to recommend here, but you can’t help but feel that Neon Indian have a top-drawer electro pop record in them, if only they can trim the fat accordingly.

‘Jaded’ undoubtedly brings with it a glimmer of hope in an album that ultimately comes up short in delivering the fusion of intensity and melody that has served GRMLN so well before.

In a rush to grow up they seem to have left behind some of what made them so excellent in the first place.

This is an album with ambition; a sonically sweeping piece of work with big themes and big ideas that can overwhelm you. Just let nature take its course.

At times the record may not hang together, but it makes up for that in its colour, its audacity, and its unabashed sense of pride at giving just about anything a go.

In a record where there are a minor derivations on a tried and tested formula, 'Still Life' is a major curveball; a high-risk almost jazz-like number that's almost ruined by the strange whizzing noise that could easily be a kazoo teasing its wares throughout.

When they get past their demons, Half Moon Run sit somewhere between accomplished musicians and potential game-changers. Too often they settle into a default mode, rarely hitting the melodic highs of ‘It Works Itself Out’ or the enraged bruiser ‘Consider Yourself’.

There is a lot of polish to Moaning, to the point that it’s carried off almost with a bit of a swagger.

Smith's vocals are spot-on throughout, save for the odd Mariah-esque trickle towards X Factor auditionee theatrics, and find themselves paired with as pitch-perfect a production as has been heard all year.

We may have seen Taylor on far better songwriting form than with ‘The Life Of A Showgirl’, but perhaps now, more than ever, she is making music for herself over anyone else.

Unfortunately, these [familiar touches] are huddled together rather than woven throughout the album, breaking the illusion of a perpetual contrast. When Solide Mirage eventually hits its mark though, it’s impossible not buy into Marry’s idea of a changeable album that dreams of unity and addressing frustrations through as many channels as possible.

It means that AOKOHIO never quite feels as cohesive as Wolf apparently intended it to be, so it’s a good job that the album’s emotional themes do such a good job of providing a throughline and backbone instead.

There are some cringey bits, the title track relying a little too much on well-trodden punk tropes, the vocals ‘Still Breathing’ not as vulnerable as the lyrics might warrant, and ‘Youngblood’ a bit of a mis-step. If punk’s 50th anniversary has shown us anything, it’s that many old rockers grow old, go soft and give in. On that count, if not all, Green Day are faring pretty well.

There’s a sense that nobody’s heart was quite in it which sometimes means proceedings drag on, refusing to invent, refusing to accept that Granddady can be a band who make it. It’s heart-breaking and at times powerfully so, but it also shuns the listener, forcing them to a place where Grandaddy risk drifting once more into obscurity.

It may lack slightly in ambition but in terms of fulfilling Plantman's ideology to make gimmick free, classically-tinged emotive songs it does just fine.

On Scatter, Crushed Beaks find their a solid centre, as well as a gift for urgent, spangly melody.

This isn’t the best or the bravest music of her career, but Harvey continues to pave new ground. This time, she takes that responsibility very literally, exploring new places and inviting listeners into her strange universe.

It's filled with cool sounds, and makes for an interesting listen, but it’s not engaging. It leaves the listener unfeeling, untouched.

Despite coming from the same body that houses a personality so unbelievably erratic and off-the-wall in the best possible way, 25 is as straight-down-the-line ‘Adele album’ as it gets.

Granted, it doesn’t always quite connect, and it probably won’t enter the Green Day canon, but it’s a bit of fun all the same.

Overall the album is never really present enough to make an impression, beyond a hazy silhouette in the distance.

For better or for worse though, Moh Lhean mostly moves to the beat of its own, strangely laid-back drums. It just would have been nice to have a little more variation buried within those meditative vibes.

The middle run of ‘U Do U’, ‘RH RN’ and ‘Old Flame’ is so mid-paced and lacking in audible spark that it’s as if the record has momentarily dozed off. And for a group who have seemed so overflowing with ideas, so strong in their convictions and so urgently essential, it can’t help but feel a bit disappointing

The lyrics across the course of the record feel less politicised, the characters less personal, resulting in a record that feels both wholly more developed, and ultimately more accessible than the EP it follows.

As a lyrical and moral experiment it’s touching and does what it sets out to; as an auditory experience... not so much.

Suede deserve some credit for being one of the few reunited bands to actually risk their reputation by recording a new album and whilst there is nothing on 'Bloodsports' as gloriously epic as 'Stay Together' or as bat-shit crazy as 'Introducing The Band', it should be viewed as a partial success.

As an experiment, No Grace could go further. But PAWS continue to have fuzz defining their every step.

Notably, the record is without the pair’s usual darkness, but ‘Host’ feels organic and true, like the first day of spring after a winter full of rain.

They promised a great leap forward, and this isn't it.

It’s all washed over with a layer of fuzz, the distorted sound making it impossible to discern precisely what’s going on - which is, one would imagine, precisely the point.

[A] sumptuous five track EP that's as melodious as its predecessor but, semi-sadly, not as memorable, not quite as fulfilling, nor as enriching.

He’s created an admittedly imperfect but nonetheless loving ode to some of the greatest milestones in electronic music.

It’s the same bloatedness that often permeates through a Beirut record, and despite a short recording time Condon hasn’t quite been able to shake it, leaving us with a familiar and easy-going album that might step in a different direction, but ultimately remains distinctively Beirut.

A record which clearly finds contentment in its sonic solitude.

It’s a great--albeit mis-matched--collection of songs.

As a taster for her imminent third album, Emmy has newly positioned herself, distancing herself from the ‘anti folk’ sound she once claimed with 2009 debut ‘First Love’.

As usual, there’s probably a few too many ideas here and the band trip up on them occasionally--but if they didn’t, it wouldn’t be much of a Deerhoof record.

It's more than good, but it could have been great.

Ultimately, ‘Man Alive!’ feels like the work of an artist in transition: a handful of stunning tracks surrounded by some backfiring experiments. It’s frustrating but there are still gems to be found amid the soul-searching.

There aren’t quite enough hooks to unite some of the more exciting experimentalism, but when SHIRT does throw them it’s not certain that they land.

As If Apart follows the template of his similarly bucolic 2012 solo debut ‘Overgrown Path’, shrouding his loosely constructed songs in a shimmering lo-fi shroud that makes everything sound as if it was recorded on his front porch, which it almost certainly wasn’t.

It’s not light-hearted or easy to stomach, but for placing themselves into the shoes of others and broadcasting from the inside, there’s no real match for Public Service Broadcasting.

It’s rough around the edges, but that’s part of its charm - a testament to the energy and ideas thrown about in such a short space of time, and the vibrancy of collaboration.

Invitation to Her’s is an occasionally jarring listen, thanks to its stylistic restlessness, but there’s enough substance behind the silliness to leave you feeling they’re following through on their early prom

Heavy with feeling throughout, it makes for a record that’s often a tough listen. But for cathartically allowing herself to tackle life’s most difficult subjects, you’ve got to applaud her.

‘Light Years Out’ is an ill-advised journey into electro-funk territory but overall, ‘Names of North End Women’ is an interesting work that shows Ranaldo has retained all his youthful capacity for innovation and experimentation.

The songs here mostly lack the sonic power and impact of those on its predecessor, but they do accomplish the not inconsiderable task of making Sean’s angular guitars sit alongside Pascal Stevenson’s synths congruously on tracks like ‘Ego’ and ‘Keep Out’. Post-punk bands of various eras have transitioned to new wave over the course of three or four albums, but Moaning have done that with just two.

It’s not routine or mundane, but the second half of the album represents a disappointing fade in if not quality, excitement.

TEEN’s sonic approach is chaotically diverse throughout and this very much feels like an album of two halves; when it captures the alienation and isolation it strives for, though, it soars.

The Idlewild comeback may not see them scale the heights of their previous output, but this album is certainly a heart-warming success.

Ghost Stories is the sound of Coldplay finally coming to terms with who they are--a universally loved, often loathed, slightly cheesy outfit. Charmingly cheesy, though.

Forever is just a little bit tedious, quite repetitive and by the end, unfortunately, thoroughly forgettable.

An album that only even begins to click after about the tenth listen, Arctic Monkeys’ sixth is the kind of eyebrow-raising curveball that could still yet lead to brilliance.

There is certainly well crafted song writing, but the album suffers for having a rather one dimensional sound; the most interesting track ['Sweet Dee'] is, notably, the most different.

While their new guise has them in a more experimental mood - injecting doses of nostalgia all over the shop - it also doesn’t quite possess the same level of clout as before.

A debut with such a title as this does imply an artist still trying things on for size, and there are certainly a handful of emotionally astute, smart indie pop gems to be found among it.

It’s all largely inoffensive and wholly listenable. Which is fine, but we’ve come to expect more from La Roux.

While the studio’s energy is palpable on record, ‘Delta Kream’ is likely to appeal mostly to Dan and Patrick’s fellow blues nerds over anyone else.

There is a naïve charm to their rudimentary rock and 'Tosta Mista' is a sporadically great introduction to those charms.

V will go down a storm with committed Bronx fans, but is curiously subdued in places--which, in the current climate, feels like a little bit of an opportunity missed.

Barry Johnson’s vocals remain huge, and riffs are still catchy, but in trying to expand their palate, their identity might just be starting to slip.

‘EXPO’ is not quite Charlie Brooker in song, but it’s not too far off. Fully immersive but a little disquieting.

In isolation, there’s a lot to enjoy among these tracks, but together, ‘Like All Before You’ requires a lot of listens and maybe a couple of aspirin to translate.

‘Typhoons’ occasionally misses the mark: the space created by the pair’s more chilled sonic approach isn’t filled. The songs here may be more melodic, more complex even on paper, but in reality there’s little there to truly grab hold of.

While mellow and downbeat at times, the subtle happiness could have been made more evident from the inclusion of ‘Paint A Smile On Me’.

Tthey continually hit the sweet spot between the dance floor and sweaty indie venue. Songs overflow with ideas and, as the title suggests, they manage to plot a path through them all, finding something poetic amid all the excess.

While so many albums today are front-loaded, this one saves many of its treasures for the final stretch, ending on a high with ‘Highland Grace’, an appropriately elegiac closer euphoric horns and vocals.

It’s not trance, it’s not electro, it’s not quite orchestral--it’s not quite anything. They are a band with good ideas but unsteady appeal.

It’s punk music with the intelligence of wizened old jazz musicians, and as a chronicle of the band’s hardships, it’s a much-welcome return.

It’s difficult to shake the feeling that the likes of the upbeat ‘Brass Locket’ or the barely-there ‘Hunting Dog’ that this is territory Regan has already long since claimed, and that as good as he is at it, the law of diminishing returns is bound to kick in eventually. Instead, what we need more of is the likes of ‘Glaciers’, all implied menace and thick atmospherics.

Less scrappy punk and more slick guitars, there’s an air of the Queens of the Stone Age about their debut, and it’s a sound they wear well.

Quiet River of Dust won’t be for everyone, but you can’t help but marvel at its ambition.

Not everything works on an album that is perhaps slightly too long, however, there is a pleasing sense of ambition to Dan, The Automator’s symphonic productions, tinged with an old school flavour.

The improvements from the self-titled album can only be comprehensively taken in with a full listen of Jackrabbit, but using a second album to slowly build and improve an already vastly promising sound--instead of attempting an erratic reinvention--is something Ludwig-Leone should be commended for.

Sincerely, Future Pollution is in some ways a perfect representation of our conflicted, uncertain times, but it also makes the record a challenging, uncompromising listen.

An album which feels lovingly crafted, full of moments that only reveal themselves after multiple listens.

There are not enough personal elements on this album and too many invented ones. It's frustrating, too, because the honest snippets that occasionally poke through really shine.

Ultimately though, there are too many times here where these tracks sound too contrived and calculated, a false approximation in place of the real thing.