Uninspiring, unexciting, largely forgettable--this is nothing more than Kings of Leon by numbers.

For the most part, this is a record about chasing a specific kind of pop aesthetic instead, which largely comes at the detriment of any kind of real connection.

It doesn't try too hard to be cool or rock climb your intellect but makes you smile, dance and sing away to yourself in places you shouldn't.

Chunky, neatly devised and deeply satisfying--this is the sound of staring into a black winter puddle while a nearby bird squirts a veneer of soothing melody onto proceedings.

Melancholy, meticulous and achingly grand, it extends his artistic narrative in resplendent form.

Fantastically glossy and mystical.

An unpredictable but spectacular ride through pop, rock and everything in between, it’s hard not to bowled over by Urie’s efforts yet again.

This is a good start but, after losing half of their line up, you get the feeling Jonquil need to add a bit more character, and a bit more bite, into their new pop noise.

It's a bold step, and one that can't quite sustain itself but Blood Speaks is a force of nature, and in more senses than one.

There’s palpable relief when ‘Sugar’ gets proceedings underway and the thinking is all; 'Yes, Shout Out Louds, yes, this is how you start a record'--no dilly, precious little dally, instead wham-bam-slam straight into this behemoth of a pop tune.

It’s as if Haim are pulling apart the production strands of their debut, and pitting them against one another. For majority of the time it works, on a surprisingly low-key second album that’s worth spending some time (or rather, Haim?) with.

Thank You for Today marks the stirring opening of a new chapter in this band’s already storied history.

On Jaded & Faded, Cerebral Ballzy sound more visceral and raw than ever before--they’ve ditched the radio-ready gleam, the whole thing sounds recorded in an abandoned crack den on a half-broken tape player, and they’re all the better because of it.

It's a short and sweet affair, clocking in at just over half an hour, but Splashh don't need any longer than that to make their stamp.

While we’ve not heard Nick’s vocals out front before, those frantic fretwork and well-trodden chord changes work like an aural comfort blanket. Yet this is no carbon-copy.

Following two discouraging albums, Need Your Light represents another stumble in the New Yorkers’ career. A disappointment.

This is a varied album that combines old and new musical styles without the fear of pastiche.

HÆLOS are clearly intent on shunning tradition. With that in mind, this is a promising start.

Anagrams is the product of a musician fast maturing.

‘(self-titled)’ is Vegemite: the same, but different. When he strips it right back - ‘Prior Warning’, with its bleak reminiscing reflected by a sonic hark back to the London scene in which he made his early name, and the stark ‘Dangerous Game’, where Marcus’ voice allowed to linger for just the right amount of time - there’s a warm quality to his songwriting that seeps through.

The result is an accomplished debut that's a welcome--though not essential--addition to a growing number of lo-fi pop bands.

It is far too adult oriented rock and middle of the road to be anything but the sound of a band coasting, rather than making waves.

The instrumentals are lo-fi but bear a charm, and find Kele offering up his best guitar work in years.

The cover boasts No Thrills, but listen to the music inside and you'll know nothing can be further from the truth.

The events of two years ago might have left Cullen dejected, but he’s managed to spin beauty out of those bad times.

It’s all fun without feeling frivolous, packing relatable substance into its genuinely jovial sound.

A record that’s equal parts sugar rush power-pop and low-end meandering.

Yes, at times it does drag a little and--though clever and often charming--the content isn’t particularly inspiring.

Scattered with the odd moment that’ll leave you in no doubt that Woolhouse is far from the finished product, he nonetheless offers glimpses of a talent that is at times unrivalled.

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.

Breton have made a record that draws upon their art foundations more than their first.

It sounds fantastic throughout; there's just the right mix of intense dance floor dynamics and reverential sounds.

Strapped is a significant step forward from their debut; far more expansive and ambitious.

Perhaps it’s even a more accessible album for smoothing off the edges and toning down the vitriol, but it’s also largely forgettable in a way that Frank Turner’s best could never be accused of.

You can be left feeling drained and exhausted after listening. What is clear, though, that if you give yourself over to it it is incredibly rewarding.

'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.

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

Packed full of bright ideas and moreish hooks, ‘Dead Hand Control’ is a hopeful document about finding peace in your relationships and immediate surroundings, even when the world is on fire.

The LA quintet’s third album doesn’t quite explode as much as it hopes to, though a few songs threaten to, largely the acid-tongued, grinding ‘Roadkill’ and the vintage-sounding title track.

‘Past // Present // Future’ does what it says on the tin in a masterful way, melding the influences of the past into something that sounds shiny and modern, and achieving the rare feat of making pop punk still sound distinctive.

Allah-Las’ third album rambles as it soars, and with a distinct disregard for convention, it paints a picture of life at its most freewheeling.

Pray For Rain is a sophisticated progression for Pure Bathing Culture. Despite brief drizzly moments, on the whole the album evokes the warmth of drying off after a torrential downpour.

Zayn’s fourth is admirable in its emotional mining, is rich in execution and soul, and indeed his brain-scratching melodic riffs will have die-hard fans blushing - but even on this, what we’re told is his ‘most vulnerable’ release, the treading of the long-trodden, stripped-back, ex-boyband desire path leaves the record wanting for just a little more Zayn sparkle.

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

An album that rarely dips below being immensely enjoyable.

The eight-minute sprawl of ‘Don’t Blame Yourself’, too, is wildly self-indulgent and could have had at least a couple of minutes lopped off. Ultimately, though, he sounds rejuvenated on Star Stuff, and that bodes well for whatever he has lined up next.

Often, it’s an insightful and engaging look into what it feels like to be of everywhere and nowhere simultaneously, without alienating anyone simply looking for a catchy pop song. It’s simply a shame that Baio didn’t alienate some of his own desires to wander through genres.

While Kindly Now consequently makes for interesting, albeit heavy listening, the prospect of Henson’s next move is now all the more intriguing.

The final word sees Neck Of The Woods as a great alternative rock record that will hopefully spur the band onward where 'Swoon' had them treading water.

Unfortunately, that sense of immediacy isn’t always present. Sometimes it shows that From Deewee was rehearsed many times and things get a little bit too mechanical in the middle. It’s still easy to find yourself getting wrapped up in it though and, when it hits, it’s easy to hear why Soulwax are hailed as such innovators.

There will be those who will listen to Indians and not get swept along with their world-weary tidings but for those who feel the same or just want to escape, this LP is perfection.

An exhaustingly incoherent listen.

Though a dulcet voice the lass may have, some of the songs prove all too 'big' for her.

Without close inspection, without consistent rotation it does every bit as good a job at sounding fast and heavy as anyone could be expected to. It’s just hard to know what makes it Creative Adult and what, despite shouting so very loud, it wants to actually say.

‘It Won’t Always Be Like This’ is inexplicably reanimating the era’s penchant for plodding, drive-time indie-rock.

In sound, it sits somewhere between the sparse nature of ‘folklore’ and the overt pop of ‘Midnights’, across its two hours settling into a steady pace that forgoes massive fan favourites in favour of a continuous pull on the heartstrings. The issue with a two-hour album is that you’re not going to hit the mark on every track (no song should have three exclamation marks in the title), and it’s tricky to keep momentum when the name of the game is introspective storytelling.

This balance between a sweet, butter wouldn’t melt surface and a resolutely ballsy undercurrent means that, over the course of eleven tracks, the album is never predictable.

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.

While the album is laced with enough venom to keep existing fans happy, we defy anyone not to stamp their feet and fist pump come track nine 'I Don't Wanna'.

Dumb Blood’ is an ambitious record too--and best of all, on every single count, VANT have nailed it.

It’s lighthearted and radio-ready and fun while being marginally original about it, and that’s okay.

At once fragile and boisterous, screaming and wailing, kicking at walls then curled up against them, Annabel Dream Reader is far more accomplished than a debut should be.

Had they filtered the cacophony of ideas a little more, ‘Notes…’ could have matched ‘A Brief Inquiry…’ as a modern-day classic; as it stands, its legacy looks set to be slightly more conditional.

Side projects come and go, but it’s obvious that Les Sins is going to be around for some time.

Extension relies not just on quality component parts (of which there are many here), but too on tender placement and a development which holds some compassion for the listener. On this rich but straggling album, of Montreal fail on both accounts.

Granted, they may not be reinventing the wheel, but the duo feel reinvigorated.

TV Priest's debut is good but not necessarily enough to poke through the maelstrom quiet yet.

Mixed, fidgety, but rewarding.

They're bold, they're tight in their production and they're not afraid to strip things back to their bare essentials or allow outside influences to shine through.

A definitive debut.

With every sound shoved forward in the mix, oodles of white space floats inbetween the sound-splats. Every moment is for the taking. Painting With marks an immediate, and physical new direction, and anything seems possible.

The main issue with this album is that it is not terrible and it is not brilliant. It is simply there.

The music itself is bolder, yes, but still operating on the same cloudy register, stamping above experimentation into the domain of an artist who is more determined than ever.

The record surprises far more frequently than his previous material, despite never straying too far from his initial sound.

Not the finished article, but as close as the (still) youthful band are likely to come at this stage.

‘When You See Yourself’ sounds like a jolt back into something potentially promising: there could still be life in the old Kings yet.

The result is an album that’s pleasant but kind of passes you by, and for a singer that was always so charismatic, being just ordinary feels like a bit of a bummer.

‘graves’ may not be a huge musical departure, but it’s a sign Purity Ring still have ideas left in them yet.

An album that covers this much ground could quickly feel disjointed, yet through painting with broad brush strokes, Mall Grab has cohesively summarised what it is that makes him tick.

While this collection is his slickest, most watertight LP, it does little to push his sound or songwriting forward.

Howlin' Pelle and co... have returned with the pomp, charisma and contagious sense of fun they're known for, with a surprising variety added in to the mix.

Lonely and desolate at times, the album would benefit from being reigned in slightly - amongst the 19 tracks is a brilliant 12 or 13 songs that, despite the subject matter, deserve to see the light of day.

An indie-disco hit, or a gorgeous ballad are only a blink away from dead in the water mediocrity and if you’re not patient with the album you might be tempted to write the whole thing off. Don’t though. It’s worth it.

The Days Run Away is a simple, pleasant, good-at-what-it-does indie pop album, but nothing spectacular.

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

It has a tendency to be superfluous--a stray tabla rhythm is never too far away--but ultimately it’s a fun record that’s clearly born of love and dedication. That’s something to be commended.

While Untogether is immaculately put together, it does take a while to cross over and connect with you.

Yes, there’s nothing of the size or scale of ‘Lean On’, but in unapologetically treading her own path, MØ’s beginning to carve a new identity all of her own.

The delightfully obtuse and sometimes anxious sketches on Arcadia are what make it both enjoyable, and frustrating.

Justice’s sound is still huge, still bludgeoningly and pleasingly direct.

Frequent changes in instrumentation and tone ultimately make Oczy Mlody feel unfocused, and without any of the band’s signature flamboyance to fall back on, it makes for a dull listen.

While fans of the band's more lo-fi beginnings may stare, open-mouthed, bemused at the central role played by synths on Forcefield, there's every chance they'll be gaining a whole slew of newbies, should these many choruses be set loose.

Bold, experimental, and an absolute delight, Bombay Bicycle Club cycle the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

Persuasive, pummelling, precise, Refused may have--quite literally--set the agenda with ‘The Shape Of Punk To Come’ but here they’re proving that they can still translate the blueprints regardless of how much time has passed.

Vitriola is a fiercely political record, but one that seldom feels trite; married to the aggressive tone of a band back to make a point, it’s a razor-sharp lament of America in 2018.

The only dud is GAYLE’s ‘butterflies’, which does nothing more than showcase the record’s corporate origins. Sampling a Y2K hit would have surely looked good on paper at some point; in reality it’s a confused mish-mash of sounds, the sample appearing as an add-on, the newcomer without the star power of her peers here to hint lyrically at anything of note. That aside, life in plastic does indeed sound fantastic.

For the most part, the record is a heady trip that prances around greatness but settles for pretty good.

Rat Boy works best on this record not giving the fans what they want--but something new.