For all of the frontman's dynamism, he can't save a frustratingly slow, out-of-date computer.

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

Earth might be musically faultless, but it lacks the bite of his day job.

It's punk rock by the numbers.

The band’s strongest assets - three fantastic vocalists in Rebecca Hawley, Emily Lansley and Lucy Mercer, and a focus on tight bass-and-drum grooves - are ever present, but there’s enough sugar in ‘Big Wows’ to make even the sweetest tooth ache.

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

'Incorruptible Heart' is a frustrating listen. You are left with the sense that there is a brilliant pop group waiting to burst out but for the most part, they are sadly suffocated by the arrangements.

There’s a solid background of obviously skilled musicianship on fifth LP ‘One Man Band’, but even on the snarl of ‘Never Taking Me Alive’, it all feels very safe.

It’s all pleasant, but feels inessential and - at times - dated, not least because the lower-tempo tracks veer dangerously close to sounding like chillwave. Domestication has not robbed Sébastien of his adventurousness, but the killer instinct that defines his best work is missing here: ‘Domesticated’ is a meandering listen.

For while standout ‘These Depopulate Hours’ fizzes with what has made the Glasgow group so inviting in the past - a bubbling menace underpinning everything thanks to a screaming synth - and ‘What Makes You A Man’ employs curious sounds to back its ‘80s influences, it’s not matched by what’s found elsewhere.

In many ways Perpetual Surrender is the average British weather forecast; patchy, dull and cloudy with occasional sunny spells. Room for improvement.

The last third of the record is more streamlined, with the sweeping, subtly metallic ‘Kill Or Be Killed’ offering a welcome throwback to the days when Muse were at their best, but it’s not enough to redeem this all-too-OTT offering.

Much of the album either grates or bores.

A lot of the time Warp & Weft is just very slow, and whilst there are a couple of earworms to be turned up here and there, it's mostly pretty stodgy.

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.

The keyboards are the same tones, the chords are similar intervals, the vocals are heartfelt without the lyrics really saying anything, and perhaps most tellingly they don't deliver the goods on a pop hit to rival 'Buck Rogers'.

Specter At The Feast runs out of steam before it runs out of songs. Not a terrible album, just one lacking in inspiration.

Given its significant personal story - not to mention its lofty title - ‘Death & Love Pt. 1’ could have been an opportunity for the band to explore meatier topics of mortality and aging; instead, this feels like a frustratingly safe exercise in walking well-trodden paths.

The range of influences on the album ensures this is a rather uneven listen, unhelped by the cast of vocalists.

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.

It’s as close an approximation of before as they could possibly get - the result of 12 tracks being plopped out of a Black Keys song generator - but, five years down the line, you hope that people will demand more than that.

The issue is that, in conflating deliberation with maturity, ‘Today We’re the Greatest’ ends up feeling a little bit middle-of-the-road.

The majority of the album is not different or progressive enough to be exciting--and it's not enjoyable enough to make up for it.

At times, Tucson feels life an afterthought, lacking in the kinetic intensity and corrosive experimentalism of earlier releases.

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

At the end of The National Health, you won't be disappointed, but you won't be itching for more.

A more succinct approach to these re-assembled works would have done wonders, though as it stands leaves these ten tracks merely as a curiosity for long-standing Mogwai fans only.

Winding orchestral flights propel ‘Innocent Weight’, in part redeeming an effort that covers little in the way of new ground, while timely lyrical takes command attention yet lack the frequency to shake off neighbouring songs sinking under their own unwieldy mass.