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

Louis' new-found confidence oozes from the songs here; it may just be his first steps in the quest to emulate his old rock 'n' roll heroes.

The result feels less like accidentally walking into David Attenborough's funeral and more like some incredible, unrealised score for an immersive, imagined Icelandic crime drama.

This is boy band material dressed up in an indie band’s clothes.

Not a punk record for people who like Blink-182 but a punk record for people who like punk.

Admittedly, there is probably nothing on While A Nation Sleeps that quite scales the peaks of the their finest works, there is no 'Rookie', no 'My Life in the Knife Trade' but there are plenty of pulse quickening moments for fans and non-fans alike.

Tape Two sees them moving further away from a classic De La Soul template into something deeper and darker.

The universal themes and her way to create tales that draw you in, make for an album that’s more emotionally resonant than her debut.

Howlin' works impeccably as a whole. Equally uplifting and calming, it's the dancefloor via the beach.

Ambition often manifests itself into self-indulgence, and from the off you're convinced Field Of Reed could slip into said territory. But it's an exceptional case, where its makers hit the jackpot, where imagination runs riot and gets away with every daring feat, each one more foolish than the previous.

The irony is that perhaps in trying to grow old a little too gracefully Jimmy Eat World have lost some of the youthful exuberance that so endeared them to us in those heady days around the turn of the millennia.

This isn’t britpop recooked, reheated or reserved. Be it 1993 or 2013, In Love stands proud.

Planta is the sound of a band rejuvenated, a diverse yet cohesive effort that tightens the sonic screws without losing any of the warmth and identity they’ve managed to create for themselves.

Richly detailed and supremely defined, Half Of Where You Live is a wonderfully vivid follow up from a producer at the top of his game.

Boards of Canada have created a fascinating vision, one that will reveal more and more gifts over time.

After a decade of dividing between his priorities, this is Dallas finally taking the step out on his own. And it suits him extremely well.

For creating something as fresh and strong as this at album number eight, Portugal. The Man deserve to be applauded.

Not only ambitious, Blood & Chemistry is also invigorating.

It should go without saying but it needs to said: this is an intricate, jarring and complicated piece of work and is undeniably brilliant.

Fleshed out with a full band, tracks like newest single ‘In Your Car’ sound dramatic, full-bodied, but still in possession of the emotional intricacies that made us enjoy Big Deal in the first place.

So while there's nothing vastly wrong with From The Hills Below The City, there's also nothing vastly right.

The fire will simmer out, and one day this record will sound ridiculously dated, but for the time being it is everything 2013 requires.

With this record Hopkins has finally succeeded in putting on record a definitive statement of his musical vision and ideas.

Throughout, the record oozes an elegant stream of sophistication and songwriting nous, backed up by a rich, clearly well-thought out and measured Tucker Martine production.

Cave Rave is outlandish, silly, summery and as brilliant as its title, and Crystal Fighters have somehow managed to continue in making their seemingly unattainable mix of traditional instrumentation and ideas and dubby electronics work without disaster.

R. Cole Furlow has managed to piece together a jigsaw of DIY recording methods, thrashy punk, grungy distorted noise and glowing synths to brilliant effect.

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

In the wider picture, this may not make the impressive strides 'Visions' or Purity Ring's 'Shrines' did, but there's every chance Lesser Evil can find an audience to smother it in all the affection it deserves.

The lo-fi pop is still there, it’s just more precise and glossier.

Individually these would be two good albums. But as a complimentary pair they become much more.

Even when 'Turns Turns Turns' or the astonishingly upfront 'Bugs Don't Buzz' offer vital, personal refuge, an evil, grating side to you will crave a crescendo, a clamouring climax all coloured and epic. Majical Cloudz is the antithesis of such, but when he flirts with dangerous grey areas, he actually ends up striking gold.

Spend any element of time with it and each passing play opens the album up, showing it off as the special, if often-understated record that it is.

CocoRosie certainly revel in their unorthodoxy but this doesn’t always make for enjoyable listening; perhaps if their Tales Of A Grasswidow knew how to breathe, their macabre hymns might pack a little more pluck.

Notably looser is ‘Oblivion Overture’s classical, Fantasia-esque take on earlier track ‘Oblivion’, while ‘Morning Of My Life’ finds a softer side to Flemmons’s nasal vocals, accompanied by little more than soft plucks of guitar. When combined though, these opposing elements transform Jackal into a distinctly outright collection of songs.

The narrative drawn by Marling throughout is at times heart-stopping, segues and recurrent motifs creating effortless enjambment.

This is one of the most engaging dance albums you're likely to hear this year.

That MCII can jump from sound to sound isn’t a surprise; but at times it does make for a slightly schizophrenic listen.

It may be easy to enjoy at the time, but this third full-length leaves no lasting impression.

For all its unoriginality, Clarietta more than makes amends with the proficient psychedelia of its groove-based jams.

There's a gulf between even At The Drive-In and how extreme Dillinger can be, but on One Of Us Is The Killer, they've finally written a record that bridges that gap while staying true to themselves.

While The National don't progress or indeed offer anything new to outstanding cynics, they instead rejoice in their strengths of detailing life and all its sorry baggage in the most beautiful of ways.

Land Of CanAan's mix of warmth and sorrow sees Marques Toliver finally create an accomplished and whimsical sound that we only had glimpses of in other artists’ work.

A laid-back, well-considered and joyous effort to swing you through the summer months.

They've crafted an album that's endearing and inspiring, even if its genesis was the complete contrary.

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.

So we get the usual talk of death rides, mescalitoes and, erm, black pudding. But when the duo do click, it’s masterful.

As ever, Amidon mediates between the folk music of his ancestry and the popular music of his day, finding a unique modernity in his marrying of past and present.

It’s possibly not to everyone’s taste--no doubt fans of the definiteness of ‘Pleasure’ may turn on this one--but it’s more confident and upfront, less immersed in background noise.

Silver Wilkinson is an album that combines all the facets of Bibio’s character that have made him such an interesting and, at times, frustrating musician.

They've got some good ideas, but perhaps just aren't ready for a full-length release.

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.

It's fair to say that there are no real surprises here but what we do get is a solid collection of retro tinged songs that will appeal to fans of their previous work.

Random Access Memories is, for all the DJ-on-camera dancing hype, an album in the proper sense of the word; these aren't thirteen dancefloor ready bangers, it's a grandiose statement of intent.

The Britain of 2013 may be a place full of dread in Primal Scream’s world but that sense of anger has prompted them to deliver an extremely impressive return that’s brash, bold and often brilliant.

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.

Rkives doesn’t shed any light on Rilo Kiley, there’s no standout defining track that was flippantly consigned to a b-side or the vaults. Instead, it’s a collection which provides more satisfaction than surprise.

It'll make you dance and sing until you sweat, and although it stutters in places and has plenty of sections that build but frustratingly never execute the finish to shatter your eardrums, it's an album that is very difficult to truly dislike.

As an introduction to the man and a myth he’s already constructing it’s a very enticing and exciting one, if there’s more to come at this level from him true classics await.

Strange Pleasures is an album of cinematic charm and where, with the weight lifted off his shoulders, Hughes has created a journey along a dark motorway that adds light and colour to stand out from the traffic.

Monomania is an easy album to become monomaniac about.

In a sense it presents itself as an evolutionary rather than revolutionary development, in this case one which takes its predecessor's penchant for the instant and injects an enormous dose of FM-friendly American power-pop from days of yore into the mix.

Full of heart and full of ideas, it’s big, clever and brilliantly odd.

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

Lyrically it is definitely awful.

An intelligent and, most importantly, a cathartic album it allows Ghostpoet to shed his worries in the most eloquent and interesting ways.

Recycled though some of these tales may be--his notable past tends to weave its way into much of his work--sung with his Southern drawl and playful hollers, Seasick Steve just about has the charm and vigour to carry them through.

This album is about taking control back. It does it with conviction and vigour, with squalling guitars and wiry bass lines.

The lightness of Mvula's touch is shown by the fact that even the most leaden songs here have a moment where they catch fire.

For all of the frontman's dynamism, he can't save a frustratingly slow, out-of-date computer.

It's patchy, but when English Little League is good, it's great.

This is a feel-good hug of an album, which will transport you to the care-free, peace and love West Coast in a matter of minutes.

Some of the extremes on the album feel awkward--the heavy metal too heavy, the loops of death overlooped, the calm too suddenly silent--but overall it is a deep, yawning collection of exciting musical experiments to dunk yourself into.

As the album progresses onto its second disc, it becomes even more spaced out and diverse. At times, the attempts to combine more abstract and challenging sounds fail to hold your attention. However, when this works well, as on the excellent ‘Sideways Glance', it’s a joy.

It’s an album which sees the band taking new sounds and crafting songs in new ways. But this tightness and restraint is sometimes to the detriment of the songs.

What stops the record being preposterous, what keeps it charming and fun throughout, what makes it okay for ‘Mid Century Modern Nightmare’ to rhyme “bourgeoisie” with “cups of tea” is the presence of Gruff.

While they could go darker, grizzlier, or even shinier, I Love You achieves what few debuts can, by making one hell of an opening statement.

After the immediacy of Wolfgang, ‘Bankrupt!’ can seem like a sidestep. But delve deeper and this is an album reveals itself as a gem; one which mixes their crowd-pleasing hooks with an inventive shift in their sound.

Contrary to the band’s name, there are a lot of joys to be found in Wait To Pleasure.

Whilst there are a couple of noteworthy exceptions there is simply too much here that simply slips into background music fodder.

The reality though is that your ability to get on board with this record will depend more or less entirely on how you feel about its lyrical content.

The only thing lacking is a greater presence of the crowd on the record that seems to be have mixed down, but it is the audible ecstasy of audience participation that truly makes a live album, though here the delicate simplicity and precise execution of the music more than makes up for it.

It’s definitely a progression from her last album into a more profound and polished sound.

Whilst not necessarily as endearing as their previous records, Birthmarks may in fact be better.

Javelin's sense of ambition is certainly commendable, and despite its shortcomings, Hi Beams still provides some examples of dizzyingly odd pop.

By intention or coincidence, the band's debut boils over with frustration. And all you crave is a piece of it.

This album, for a short time, will make you question your sanity and the world around you.

Sounds layered upon sounds; the intricacies here may hint towards Mosquito being more of a grower than its older siblings, but it proves that Yeah Yeah Yeahs are a band to cherish.

Newer fans might not be totally impressed here but existing ones yearning for Harris’ observations should be satisfied otherwise.

Uncomplicated, joyful stuff.

She has the ability to carve out some gorgeous pop songs, but seems to be trying to cover too many bases.

It may not have the global appeal of his OF stable mate’s Channel Orange, but it is certainly his most accessible and enjoyable.

While his vocal delivery sounds as though he’s having to force each word out through cracked lips at the end of a long night, the accompanying music fits perfectly.

At times it feels far too long.... Yet on the whole it remains impressively cohesive, and perhaps more importantly (and surprisingly) never feels like they're going through the motions.

The Terror stares back at you like panicked faces underneath a frozen lake, visible, but distant. It’s giant metallic bugs filling an apocalyptic sky and blotting out a blood red sun.

Its meandering ways may endear or annoy in equal measure, but it’s hard to argue that there is a consistency or pure quality to see this album rank alongside its illustrious predecessor.

This may not be what we were expecting, and it may not be the Paramore that we’ve come to know and love. But, at the same time, here are a band still discovering who they are, and this album may stand as an important step on that path.

Overgrown demonstrates that for all Blake's myriad talents as a producer he still isn't able to carve a great song out of a simple idea.

Both heavy and cumbersome and light and uncertain, it will prove difficult for some to find an entrance to it, but once you’re inside you’ll find yourself enveloped by its bold experimentation and the stunning way they execute it.