It's a gut punch of a debut, and one that makes you believe Glasvegas are one of those rare, rare bands who might just have that perfect record in them.

Folie A Deux is entertaining in moderate doses, like its predecessor "Infinity On High", where the band gleefully abandoned any last pretence to edginess.

His records are not without merit and the better songs here more than deserve to find sizable audiences. But there's no sign that music is going to ever be anything more than an enjoyable sideline for a man whose greatest art continues to be created in other mediums.

His flow remains arguably one of the greatest out there; it would just be nice for him to have a bit more faith in his own mind, rather than those of our uber-producers.

If Circus had ended at eight songs, it would be a curveball pop classic but sadly--as with recent Beyonce, Alesha Dixon and Pussycat Dolls releases--the album bloats to twice that length.

Despite a preponderance of uptempo songs that puts Freedom in similar territory to Ne-Yo, the record is still very recognisably Akon.

The Circus possesses well crafted pop songs, with faultless production. There are certainly moments when Barlow comes into his own as a songwriter.

Eno and Byrne's twist, however, is the optimism and hope that breathes through every minute of what is not another boundary-demolishing collaboration, but a delicately crafted work that could only have been recorded after dispensing with the rules.

Re-emerging after a mere eight month gestation with their second album (they're referring to it as an extended EP just to be difficult, but whatever), the only natural assumption would be that the whirlwind of inconsistency smashes on unabated. And in some respects it does, but key to this record's fortunes is a sense that first they're running out of ideas and second have chilled their bones to become less rigidly obsessed with quantity and cleverness and proving their self-worth.

For the most part, however, this is a gentle hybrid that, while not reaching the heights of either artists' best work, like Eno and Byrne's recent "Everything That Happens Will Happen Today", succeeds on its own terms, creating a new world without sounding too cloyingly contemporary, or too much like the work of ageing pioneers proving they can hang with modern times.

It might not turn out to be his biggest album, but 808s & Heartbreak could well be his masterpiece.

The fact she's delivered an album which is vivacious and entertaining despite its obvious flaws means this cat probably has at least one more showbiz life left.

Meandering atmospheric intros and outros, with lyrics that often just repeat the same verse ad nauseum, overshadow what could be, at times, shorter, snappier songs.

It's more a rescinded lesson in demographics, with disc one seemingly aimed at airbrushing out the last vestiges of Knowles' credibility in favour of a procession of lame pop ballads in a Shakira or even Shania Twain-ish mould.

For long time observers though, the return of Tony Christie to the arena of mature balladry and lush production values will do plenty to gladden the heart.

Travis have always been Quite Good, sometimes a little more, rarely less. This album heads a perceived slide into insignificance off at the pass and ensures the status quo.

There's every sense that Wild Beasts are happy embracing their own ridiculousness and there's enough cheeky humour here, "chocs away!" shagging scenarios and references to old boys and institutions to suggest that whilst there's serious musical craft at foot, the whole lark's just a jolly good old wheeze and "Limbo, Panto" is all the more fun for it.

For the most part, however, this is an ultra-sugary album which leaves a strangely sour aftertaste - not a flavour the public seems too fond of.

There is an exploration outside of archetypal Girls Aloud territory on their latest offering but it barely steers too far from their recipe for success.

Rushed it may have been, but here Bloc Party seem to accurately reflect post-relationship blues: confused, introspective and stung.

Off With Their Heads is, thankfully, a subtler, cannier beast, even if it does suffer from some of the same problems as its predecessor.

Eagles Of Death Metal have crafted a soundtrack to hedonism, a series of paeans to earthly and earthy pleasures and deliciously illicit behaviour. It's enormous fun all right but it's a long way from being a joke.

Sprawled over 13 tracks, The Cure have attempted a microcosm of their oeuvre in one volume and despite their lofty ambitions, the results are a decidedly mixed bag at best.

Three-part 16-minute closer 'The Lightening Strike,' at the other end of the scale, also sees them finally growing into their stadium skin, evoking Oasis, REM, Muse and, indeed, Coldplay amongst other subtleties and convincing you for once that they genuinely harbour ambition.

Perhaps Funhouse is a victim of its own excess: it may be inevitable that an album of 14 songs with more than a dozen credited writers will end up as hit and miss, as messy as this.

That rare thing in modern music, you feel Deerhunter grow with each second of song that passes, a band who delight in running under their own graceful steam rather than gasping at the airs of others.

"Once Again" remains Legend's best record. But Evolver, in all its modernity and timeliness, may well become his biggest.

The first half of the album as a whole is easy to forget....Cardinology takes a turn for the best around the midway point.