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'.

With all the various guest vocals, Pick A Piper's multi-narrative structure is a little problematic.

It’s pleasant, and there are intriguing touches to be found in the Jacco Gardner-esque keys of ‘On Your Own’, but there’s an intrinsically grating quality that’s hard to shake.

Instead of its wide-eyed optimism rubbing off onto others, this album has the effect of canned laughter bouncing off the walls. It’s a hundred nutritional yoghurts being mushed into bland liquid nothingness.

This record does have its moments, though any instances of real connection are a notable rarity.

Despite the evident WTF factor, this remains a record chock-full of invention, a pursuit of the new and--most importantly--gigantic songs.

In Plain Sight is an overwhelmingly dour listen.

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.

At this point Mumford & Sons know exactly what they have to do to keep the Spotify streams rolling over, and Delta feels like an exercise in box-ticking, no more, no less.

After an ‘Our Version of Events’-worthy build, it’s crying out for something slightly off-kilter to douse the saccharine overload, but instead shoots for a bounding chorus of ‘Rather Be’-proportions, which misses in favour of something that can only be described as 90s dance clunk.

This is the sound of an artist who has allowed himself to take a break and record eleven tracks he would like to rele

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.

This is a confused mess of a record, with nonsensical lyrics, trite musical clichés, and not a lot else.

While the relentless realisation of their film-ready stylings may not be to everyone's tastes, the fact they're here at all in the first place is a cause worth celebrating in itself.

The vocals, the terrible rhymes... it's business as usual then for Liam; it's just scrubbed up a bit.

It's pleasantly pristine stuff from the still relative newcomer.

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

There’s a bit of filler in the form of the relatively stagnant ‘Xmas In Japan’; but pretty much all of the other tracks are just great big fun dancefloor fillers.

The epitome of indie clichés, Drowners have done nothing to break their mould, and On Desire does little to appease the want for something more.

It’s both over-produced and underwhelming.

The second album from the Phenomenal Handclap Band may not contain anything as exciting or danceable as the highlights of their debut but, despite its disappointments, there is still plenty on Form & Control for anyone who enjoyed their debut to appreciate.

In the grand scheme of things, Sequel To The Prequel is a definite step in a positive direction.

Hit The Waves offers little in way of innovation, an unthreatening album to Sigur Ros and The Knife’s releases later this year, but The Mary Onettes are perfectly happy to look backwards.

Having been dogged with comparisons to Friendly Fires since their formation, it is ironic that this record perhaps sounds like the kind of misstep that the St. Albans band made themselves with their second album 'Pala'.

There are a few duds thrown into the pack--closing pair ‘Into The Sun’ and ‘Walk Out Music’ offer little of interest and ensure the record goes out with something of a whimper--but there’s enough on With You Tonight to suggest Summer Moon might gather something of a cult following.

Flashes of the airtight songwriting that ran through ‘Scream Aim Fire’ and ‘Fever’ remain--closer ‘Pariah’ does controlled fury very well--but otherwise, it has to be case of back to the drawing board, because Bullet sound as if they’re beginning to run on fumes.

Glitterbug is a tired album that lacks invention and makes the landfill indie tag even easier to attribute.

As loud and aggressive Flats can sound it can't come close to hiding a lack of pretty much everything other than extreme volume and misplaced nothing-better-to-do-than-have-a-go-at-everyone-else small-minded aggression.