It's in the middle where the album begins to sag, thanks to some monotonous backings and noticeably weaker hooks ('Remote Control'/'Tell the Vision') which lead the runtime to become alarmingly apparent, before strong features on 'Keep My Spirit Alive', 'Moon' and 'Pure Souls' further begin to force Kanye awkwardly into the background on his own album. He positions himself closer to the spotlight towards the final third.

A record that does the musical equivalent of wrapping its arms around your body and giving you a nice, warm hug.

Much of the album either grates or bores.

Far surpassing ‘Let Her Burn’ in scope, quality, ambition and vision, ‘SALVATION’ proves Rebecca Black’s got guts, and that it’s time she got her flowers.

There are moments on Coming Up For Air that lay claim to a genuine force, the kind who’ve earned their Chris Martin-endorsed stripes. They’re yet to truly claim their own territory, though, and any attempts to reinvent the wheel fall flat with an almighty thud

'Days Go By' doesn't catapult them back to their prime; there's a lot of issues that can be picked out, be it recognisable musicality or questionable song choices. Having said that, when The Offspring do get it right on this record, they are great.

Reptar have pieced emotions together, both euphoric and heartbreaking, to create a debut that, although perhaps too varied in places, is a great starting point for the quartet.

Unsurprisingly, this collection does sometimes border on becoming stale; 10-30 second fillers appear somewhat pointlessly bookended between certain tracks. But, more often than not, Friedberger does spice things up.

This is far from a bad album but it's also far from matching their best... 'This Machine' is both an attempt to recapture the glory days and a sad admission that it can't be done.

L.A. Divine is simply too rigid for Willett to shine. Joe Plummer, while undeniably talented, is a less subtle drummer than Matt Aveiro and locks Willett into predictable, percussive grids that give his voice a jarringly artificial, almost showtune quality.

Musically confused, frequently lyrically painful (closer ‘Erotic Letter’ needs to be heard to be believed), its ego is so overpowering it ends up as a sweet relief against a backdrop of po-faced, fence sitting peers.

This eponymous debut is a well-rounded effort for a band that clearly has a knack for stadium-filling melodies and angst-ridden confessions. Anthemic in most parts and enjoyable in all, Various Cruelties deliver a debut that's moving and memorable.

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.

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

The result is still just a big, slick, debatably-decent pop record.

Lyrically it is definitely awful.

Levine has done a wonderful job of creating a work whose humble beauty easily can captivate you if you let it.