V For Vaselines has been released a few months too late, for V For Vaselines is a summer album.

Though a long time coming, it seems that not rushing a follow-up has allowed London Grammar to craft a record that’s hauntingly stark, yet staggeringly beautiful, possessing a rich musicality that even now, is mature beyond the band’s young years.

Sam’s latest finds them exploring self-acceptance and self-growth across their now-classic style of soul-tinged pop. ... While ’Unholy’’s catchy melodies may be elsewhere untouchable, it breaks down the boundaries of topics to explore throughout the rest of ‘Gloria’.

It's a 'take it or leave it' kind of record, but invest in Cut Copy's deranged aims and it'll feel like being part of a free-spirited cult.

Unfortunately, this slightly more mainstream vision is consistently obscured, making Innocence Reaches a frustrating listen.

But like a fine pastiche, the presented elements are enjoyable, but there's a detached lack of soul and ardor.

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

The frustration comes from Stains on Silence's propensity for a feeling little bit too rough around the edges, unfinished almost, despite it’s reworking.

A brilliant and unexpected ride from start to finish.

It’s hard to overstate how aggravating it is to hear somebody who once stood as the dictionary definition of “less is more” fly so flagrantly in the face of the mantra that made him.

Ultimately, as beautiful as it is in its more subdued moments, the album feels fully realised when her alternative and mainstream instincts find each other.

It's oddly accomplished, and Winston's classical background shines through.

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.

The duo have well established their trademark sound, and sonically ‘Ceremony’ pushes this to new extremes - the synths are darker, the drums are heavier, the vocals more melancholic than anything fans would have previously heard from them, yet still catchy as hell.

Though ‘Mama’s Boy’ won’t exactly be changing the alt-pop game, it certainly might convince you to text your ex after one too many glasses of wine.

There ‘One Foot In Front Of The Other’ saw her present a distilled version of herself, the 14-track ‘vertigo’ is at times spread a little thin. .... The sum of ‘vertigo’’s parts is triumphant in quality.

Real Lies’ debut effort instead puts forward a group who’ve clearly agonised over every detail of their early ‘90s aesthetic, and forgotten about the songs in the process.

While their hooks are huge, there are moments within Limitless that seem too polished.

A a good, clean indie-pop record, it’s a solid foot in the door for an act with a prosperous future ahead of them.

The refocusing of his songwriting has led to undoubted growth in SOHN’s work, but that stunted sense of adventure leaves moments that fall between the cracks.

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

Genres fall by the wayside as krautrock melts into a studied and dense electronica, and pulls either towards the tenseness of post-punk or the hazy surrealism of shoegaze.

Adam’s still the pied piper of indie, with a skip in his step and charm for days.

Lauv’s second record certainly provides an array of sweet pop highs, but still doesn’t quite show us who the writer behind it all really is.

They do truly make a beautiful noise together. That said, vocals can't account for everything and, in an album so marked by its makers' laryngeal input, it seems as though the rest got a little neglected.

Purposefully lo-fi, it would be easy to dismiss as self-indulgent nostalgia, yet its quirky charms and understated directness more often than not outweigh its faults.

Intentionally overwrought, brash, and totally different to anything she’s ever done before, Lady Gaga’s Joanne doesn’t quite nail the artistic frankness she’s aiming for.

Blame Confusion is great.... It spends its whole ten tracks threatening to break out in to full-blown epic--but remains able to stop short every time.

Sure, it loses its way about two-thirds through via the meandering ‘Every Guy Wants To Be Her Baby’ and ‘Memories’, but there’s always the suggestion that it’s sort of the point.

We’re left with a contrast that never quite works. Instead, it’s where the concept is applied metaphorically that ‘Van Weezer’ finds some green shoots.

A little bit cocky at times, sure, but with the tightness to back it up, Night People feels like the band’s most natural and accomplished step so far.

While intriguing and often beautiful, it’s also a little frustrating. There’s a sense that this is only half a story, half a tale told.

Throughout this 21-track pop odyssey, Lauv shows just why he’s considered one of the finest pop writers around.

‘The Streets Where I Belong’ appears to aim for ‘80s FM radio nostalgia, while the title track hints at cod reggae, ‘Forever ‘92’ borrows a smidgen of shoegazey guitars and ‘The Bomb’ a touch of trip hop. But with a lack of immediacy, paper-thin production and no discernible hooks throughout, for anyone still humming ‘Chewing Gum’ or ‘Heartbeat’, it’s a disappointment.

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

After a difficult few years, Snowdonia proves that a steady hand and a playful surf-rock riff has seen Surfer Blood through the darkness and out the other side.

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.

It's nice, if a little lightweight.

Musically it's very much as you were, country-tinged alt-rock, a little punkier in places, a little less scared of making a racket.

The fearful funk of inc. isn't just summarised as another outlet for meditative reflection--every song on this record showcases unbeatable quirk-pop perfection.

It’s hard to tell if the first half of Miracle Mile is really better than the first, or whether it’s just that a kind of boredom sets in at some point during a listen, whether it’s your first or your fifth.

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.

Where Asher Roth left house-party hip hop (or just got a little high and wandered off) Chiddy Bang pick it up but bring a whole new focus, a pop-sensibility and a very nuanced delivery.

Hot Motion’s only pitfall comes from frankly how safe it feels. Sure, it’s bigger and brighter than anything Temples have done before, but its whole aesthetic is still nestled deep in their sepia-tinted comfort zone. ... Nevertheless, it’s a solid statement that Temples are alive and kicking, drawing fresh inspo from the past without fading into it themselves.

Two average tracks out of nine starts to feel like too many and leaves you doubting whether the rest was quite as good as you thought.

Methyl Ethel have reached great new heights with this stellar effort.

Let It Reign’s abrasiveness does little to deflect from its disappointing lack of ambition.

They're drifting between The Killers and Two Door Cinema Club in a sea of meaningless tunes with no depth whatsoever.

'Out Of The Black' represents that failure [to push their sound forward].

There is a real sense of Smith genuinely expressing himself through the number of strutting guitar solos and melodic flourishes

In short, if you're a Dashboard Confessional fan then you'll find plenty to enjoy here. Full-blown pretty-boy emotion dished out by a musician as adept at pulling the heart strings with big, simple feelings as anyone you might care to name.

Darlings is warm and expansive and sexy, and feels like a more intimate affair than his debut, 2007’s ‘Spirit If...’.

Perfectly pop yet delicately dark, Spector really have redefined themselves.

Haunting, intoxicating and crystal clear, the record is both sad it’s over and excited that things haven’t even begun.

This is a record made for the cavernous expanse of Brixton Academy, fancy light show in tow, chant-a-long choruses guaranteed.

Lemon Memory shows a band unencumbered by the constraints of genre or even their own musical history.

It’s a bit like listening to someone attempting to fit a round peg into a square hole. But while he might have occasionally bitten off a little more than he can chew, there’s still undeniably some moments with serious bite here.

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

Julia’s vocals are still the centre-piece here but they take a more playful turn and, at nine songs long, the record serves as a short but promising introduction to a band still in their relative infancy.

Honne’s crystalline, Mura Masa-esque beats will see them through--though only as easy-listening, nothing more.

There’s plenty to discover here on a diverse record that takes a lot of interesting turns, and while there are some unsuccessful moments, there’s also plenty for indie-pop fans to get their teeth stuck into.

It’s a lot of… well, not much; a studio folly of sorts, (unsurprisingly) impeccable in sound but meandering without direction for the most part.

In fully embracing theatrics, their new wave leanings, and the unquestionable punk legacy, the band have landed on a sound both contemporary and unmistakably theirs.

‘Heart Tax’ is much more expansive, and has her spreading her wings in a number of different stylistic directions whilst maintaining her trademark hypnotic rhythms as a through-line with which to tie everything together.

There’s something pleasingly straightforward about this self-titled debut record from Goddess.

'Magic Hour' is an album that equally frustrates and enthrals. The collection of excellent electro pop tracks show the band still know their way around a melody but the album is let down by a few too many tired and morose ballads and witless appropriations of chart successful sounds.

The uncompromising rave punk spirit that has driven them for over 25 years seems stronger than ever on a record that will delight old fans and capture a whole new era of angry youth.

The tracks are less punchy than before and perhaps more subdued, though this is the sort of music that needs to be immersed in and often takes time to truly appreciate.

Too often This is Acting is steeped in unimaginative cliche, and leans too heavily on familiar pop tropes in a way that her previous solo albums did not.

It's almost as if the songs were constructed by way of algorithm.

hat this soundtrack does most though is demonstrate the versatility of the duo, proving there is far more to Summer Camp than just sunshine and lollipops.

Doherty’s latest solo effort sounds very much like a solid Peter solo album; rambling studio chat snippets, mentions of Arcadia and all. You know how it goes.

Sonically, it’s extremely impressive, and almost every song sounds massive. The cavernous sound suits the intensity of the band’s delivery.

Every song seems to journey through a multitude of genres and eras while remaining coherent.

Minus The Bear may have returned to the style that made their name, but there is still enough mileage in that sound to ensure that 'Infinity Overhead' is a marked improvement on their previous album.

The Coral may have been at this game for nigh-on two decades but there’s scarcely a moment here that seems tired or phoned-in. Instead, the Wirral lads have added another fascinating work to their canon.

Sure, it’s a sound that at times can be guilty of slipping into little more than a background beat; the kind of thing you’d half listen to at two in the morning on Kiss100 cruising down a deserted motorway. This is not necessarily bad, just evidence of a sound that reflects the era it embodies.

Young Magic borrow influences from all over the place and transform them into a sound they can proudly call their own.

It's sometimes a difficult listen, there's a lack of lucidity and guile that at times leaves the less striking tracks to come across rather samey.

Fair Youth is the perfect example of how to get post-rock instrumental music right.

Kintsugi sees their eighteen-year-in-the-making intentions fully realised, and--eight albums in--Death Cab For Cutie are born again; a little cracked, but all the more golden for it.

The record doesn’t achieve a great deal in saying anything new. It’s far from a disaster, though. ... The main issue with Amnesty (I) is that Crystal Castles needed to say something different.

Gardens + Villa undoubtedly have many toys at which they're more than adept at manipulating--just a shame there aren't better songs for them to adorn.

House of Spirits is a half-success, showing promise and ambition but lacking both the direction and the songs to be anything but a minor addition to the band’s catalogue.

All in all, it's interesting but frustrating in equal measures, however it is sure to please fans who know what they're in for.

Perhaps not perfect, but a recovery position from which Two Door Cinema Club look primed to soar once more.

Dry wit and effortless elegance run throughout, which makes cinematic, poetic wonderment out of eye rolls and humongous sighs.

Though Bones is almost as dramatic as a standard week on Albert Square--occasionally to its detriment--it’s also impossible to fault this album’s single-minded pursuit of sheer, maxed out saturation.

The Dream Walker comes laced with the feeling that, of all the various multimedia forms that make up the Angels & Airwaves project, it’s sadly the music that is the weakest link.

This is a wonderfully wistful album which shows a band who have grown beyond the ideas which earlier defined them to produce a sound and vision that works perfectly.

If Japanther focused more on their punk rock sensibilities and honed in on their talent for hook-infested pop songs, rather than trying to clean up their act, then they’d be far better off for it.

Jam is all well and good, but this record is at times lacking in the bread and butter of music--songs.

While there’s a certain amount of showmanship--he’s certainly still got skills--more often than not it sounds like he’s simply going through the motions.

Taiga is more of an achievement than that; it’s the mark of someone who has truly taken their time over their work. Cooped up in a friend’s holiday home in Washington, Nika Roza Danilova crafted a small slice of perfection.

[Breakthrough] is so much more than the hectic pastiches of exoticism that The Gaslamp Killer is famous for. Meticulous arrangements, pace, narrative and emotional authenticity are prioritized over an all-out assault of catatonia-inducing madness to convey its message.

On their third LP, Two Vines, the band continues to make glossy retro-futurist pop, creating a world of synthesizers and keyboards that feels both primeval and modern at once.

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.

Aan album that proves he’s more than capable on his own.