‘Concrete’ goes some distance in evoking The Weeknd’s late-night drive pop, but its obvious lyrics aren’t believable. ‘Split Lip’ nods to Harry Styles in its melancholy, but fails to pack a punch in its production.

Two Gallants’ rulebook may be dusty, weathered and well-worn, but there’s a familiarity to what they’re doing that can’t help but make We Are Undone a thoroughly enjoyable listen.

It’s not a bad record, but it’s not quite there.

There are a lot of words in this, their fifth album, and yes, they have always been a literate band, but here it often seems somewhat forced.

As far as debuts go, the Sydney trio have made a solid first step here. They’ve got half the job worked out in spades. Now, they just need to work on making it memorable.

While fans of the band's more lo-fi beginnings may stare, open-mouthed, bemused at the central role played by synths on Forcefield, there's every chance they'll be gaining a whole slew of newbies, should these many choruses be set loose.

Nothing within the album paves way for the future--instead, it feels like an exercise in honouring the past.

A bleak and wilfully impenetrable album.

The result is a composed collection of tracks.

There are enough fragments of warped interference to ensure this is a worthy collaboration albeit one which doesn't entirely muscle up to the canon of its individual progenitors.

Placing air guitar and hairbrush karaoke moments alongside twirling, hands-on-heart emotion, with Stiff, White Denim place all their capabilities on show.

Though a dulcet voice the lass may have, some of the songs prove all too 'big' for her.

This more paired-back approach isn’t always successful, mind: certain parts of Sex & Food--a bit like inviting whipped cream into the bedroom--seem like a really good idea at the start, but turn into a bit of a sloppy mess along the way.

It’s not the most cohesive album--it darts around from one idea to the next quicker than you can bat an eyelid--but it is without a doubt exciting and enthralling.

If there are faults with the record (aside from the mis-step of the fairground organ-esque 'Waltz), it's that while it works well as an album, it almost works too well with tracks all-too-often passing without leaving a lasting impression, with some of the shorter songs not always being given the space and time to develop as you'd perhaps expect them to.

To put it in an alcoholic analogy; their sound may be like a fine wine, maturing as it gets older. But they’re sure as hell not going to hesitate in sprinting to the nearest wood and necking the whole damn bottle.

This debut sets a nice, if mostly safe, blueprint.

While they do make for a well-structured collection of songs, individual tracks are often disappointing and the result feels like a half-hearted series of Doctor Who; its audience sustained more by thrilling trailers and the promise of fulfilment than any real substance

Whilst Teeth Dreams isn't a bad album, it feels pedestrian and ordinary compared to what The Hold Steady are capable of.

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.

It's a record that lacks the structure and order needed to make it into a cohesive unit, one that can be listened to beginning to end without skipping tracks.

hile ‘Back in Brazil’ is a tad baffling, ‘Caesar Rock’ doesn’t quite hit the right notes, and ‘People Want Peace’ feels a tad trite, even from one of the (probable) pioneers of the peace hand signal. Still, it’s hard to leave Egypt Station without a grin.

‘A Goood Sign’ never really goes anywhere and gets a bit lost in its murky pool of synths, while ‘i.v.’ doesn’t add much to the record. But overall, the falsetto of Mockasin and the electronic sounds of Dust marry perfectly into something stunningly weird; the kind of marriage where’d you wear multi-colour suits and dresses and tuck into an inflatable cake.

It's so well constructed as pop music the only thing you can really say is that there's not much diversity.

Whereas their earlier tracks were more simple, now their music is a multidimensional, multi-faceted affair, full of fragile introspection and meandering guitars.

Move in Spectrums is a deeply controlled sea of melancholic ambience, loaded front-heavy with infinitely more engaging moments than its murkier second half.

Pray For Rain is a sophisticated progression for Pure Bathing Culture. Despite brief drizzly moments, on the whole the album evokes the warmth of drying off after a torrential downpour.

There’s a gorgeous familiarity to the record, but it’s also one peppered with adventure.