Doesn't quite have the same impact as their debut.

On A Girl Cried Red Frasqueri showcases that she is more than just visceral beats and fierce rhymes. She has written some of her most confessional and personal lyrics to date.

Escape from Evil might not change the world (unless you live for slightly off-kilter Eighties-style pop records, in which case, you should be thanking Lower Dens immensely), but it is all the more impressive because of its unexpected accessibility.

Subtract the saccharine throwback 'Static Space Lover', the utterly somnambulant closer 'III', and the ancient prom scrap 'Time To Get Closer', and you’re left with some solid pop bangers that can sync in time with yr racing heart.

More! as an EP would have packed more punch and avoided the pitfalls of consistency which plague albums of every genre. Nevertheless, it is a good album, and perhaps the only tinge of disappointment is the knowledge that they could have done better.

There’s no staggering departure from Total Loss, but the backdrop for his soulful R&B crooning is becoming worn-out, and you can feel Krell auditioning replacements.

In its own oblique way, Shaken-Up Versions is the sound of The Knife having fun.

The set-list is a sprawling interweavement of new and older material. Wrigglesworth and J Willgoose esq take their time, lengthening out some of their songs, paring back and experimenting with tone and texture. The richness of the instrumentals gives a warmth that enhances the hypnotising quality of tracks such as ‘E.V.A’ and ‘If War Should Come’. ... It’s unfortunate, then, that PSB’s communication method of choice in-between songs is a set of pre-recorded audio snippets.

Clues offer precisely that: hints at considerable future potential, and, for any budding gumshoes keen to probe the mysterious fate of The Unicorns, arguably something of smoking gun.

Despite this not quite equalling the dizzy heights of their earliest recordings, there's an adventurous slake in its dysfunctional make-up to suggest this won't be the last time we hear from its evasive creators.

If At Echo Lake hit the jackpot, Sun & Shade is more hit and miss. Still, I wouldn't have it any other way.

By completely altering their focus, Wolves in the Throne Room have both carried on the strong tradition of black metal reinvention and proved themselves as composers with a distinct, if not world-changing, voice.

All in all it’s another assured effort from a band who manage to stay relevant without compromising their creativity.

What stops it being Great, as opposed to great, is the feeling that Machinedrum's basically working his way through segments of his music taste, having a crack at one after another. That is to say, he's a follower, one now signed to a label that's often been a haven for innovators.

If you’re a fan you’ll know what that sounds like and you won’t be disappointed by Repentless. If you’re not, well you’ll probably still find much to enjoy until the next Metallica album finally comes out.

When they do get it right, as they frequently do on The Physical World, it does provide you with more than a simple nostalgia fix.

There are moments of brilliance; sketches on a theme but with no real conclusion.

Her lazy, beaten drawl is an acquired taste, and she wears her scars and bruises for all to see, but Lucinda Williams’ tear-stained tales are so vivid and evocative it’s hard not be haunted.

The template hasn't changed much, and to some extent this is no bad thing.

All through this Olausson gives every impression of earnestness; it’s this ability to fashion a hook out of something nobody in their right mind would even think of that ensures a level of sparkle even when the sonic territory is well trodden.

Overall, the album’s songs feel fuller and less wiry in Kidjo and her collaborator's hands. In many respects, the differences aren’t radical, if only in the sense that the band’s influences are so pronounced on the original album. But that said, there are moments that are almost unidentifiable.

Her voice is as mesmeric and worldly as ever, and the instrumentation is rendered in beautiful detail. But it’s tantalising to wonder what would have happened if she would have given herself completely to chaos.

Familiar themes still surface, with the natural world continuing to loom large in Antony's conscience, but much of Swanlights is ambiguous and less easy to decipher.

there's no denying Format was made by pop geniuses; maybe pop geniuses being slightly hit and miss, but that's still pretty good.

Mixing classic rampant riffs and exploring newer matured sounds, Moss and Co. have crafted another hearty album that should satisfy even the hungriest of followers.

So, far from rehashing in a genre where that danger is always lurking, The Good Life remain reasonably fresh. A few more steps towards something else might be welcome, but for now their poise and position is utterly lovable.

Why Oneida need a concept to rock out for two hours is still a bit of a mystery, but it never tires... if only all shameless self-indulgence sounded this good.

As it is, Espers have moved towards new territory, stumbling occasionally, but with a clear eye on where they’ve come from.

As an accompaniment to the original album--which I'm sure most people reading this will already own (and if you don't, you should)--it stands proud as a comprehensive update to a timeless record.

The Wave Pictures have embraced DIY ethic and shown that less is more and will hopefully inspire more people to make a record this way.

If you had the latest Pig Destroyer record high up on your ‘Best of 2012’ list, if you hold John Peel’s Napalm Death and Carcass sessions close to your heart then Abandon All Life will be a record for you to cherish. If not: move along, there’s nothing for you here.

In truth, The Sun won’t be the hype-extracting second coming of Fridge. But it is infinitely more modestly spectacular than the majority would have dared hope.

With Ghost Blonde, No Joy have chiselled all the shoegaze basics into a formidable account of themselves. An indispensable album of their own is not far off.

A strong bottom line is that Whine of the Mystic is, above all else, an enjoyable album.

It's true that guitar-pop is all this is, but it's still bloody good stuff.

It’s unsentimental and unfussy, as both Moffat and Dickens’ best stuff usually is, but still radiates a simple joy in celebrating a special time of the year.

The current trend of Nineties-leaning music shows little signs of abating, and Heydays is yet another gloriously messy, scratchy string to its bow.

Featuring the ever-glorious Solange on vocals, it’s a moment of gracefulness that showcases Chromeo’s evident knowledge of when and how to take things down a notch. As a result, it largely accounts for the mostly-pleasant ride that the duo take us on with White Women.

So there is a lot to love within this album. Its knowing winks to rock’s early ‘70s excesses and sage-like nods to the soulful marriage of rock and rhythm and blues exemplified by Sly and Curtis mean that we’re comforted rather than challenged.

Yes, The Eternal is “Another Sonic Youth Record” but it’s also “Another Good Sonic Youth record”, revealing its finer details gradually, even if there’s no fundamentally new approach, arrangement, or message, in any of the songs.

In between almost every track the calming voice of an unnamed narrator tells us a bit more of the fantasy. Such a pompous, and quite frankly pretentious, idea shouldn’t work, but the sheer chaos of the group’s music wrapped around each piece of spoken word makes everything flow beautifully, somehow.

Any attempt to give an accurate numerical mark to such an incongruous creature would seem slightly beside the point, so it’s enough to say that A Sufi And A Killer is hard but rewarding work – the more you put in, the more you get out.

Together does not scale the heights of Mass Romantic and Twin Cinema, but then, The New Pornographers have already made Mass Romantic and Twin Cinema. This is something new, something hopeful.

There’s a sense of being 'finished' after every single track, and it often feels like you’d get the same experience but quicker listening to any single track individually instead of the album as a whole.

Kitsune is a powerful and fragile album and composes itself with the grace required to step ahead of the current glut of bands that are revisiting the post-rock genre, believing that all that all post-rock requires is distortion pedals and patience.

All together, lullaby and...The Ceaseless Roar seems like the sound of someone musically satisfied, but not in a safe, comfortable way.

[An] inventive, if uneven collection.

Love’s Miracle is an oddly enjoyable affair on the whole, although in a time when US bands are working through a Fantasy Football League-like transfer system (I’ll swap your an ex-Jesus Lizard singer for a Helmet drummer), it may take an album or two for them to completely work out their sound.

Yet even for all the familiarity to be found within its looping guitars and drums, I’ll Be Lightning also announces the arrival of a promising voice.

The strongest chunk of the album comes not in the first third, but in the stream of songs that starts with ‘Out On the Street’, ‘Take It Easy’ and ends with the final track.

There's still too much here which feels (and sounds) like filler, but when Jenkinson pulls it off it's as incomparably awesome as ever.

While Caer stumbles over artifice at the gate, Twin Shadow eventually rebuilds a vibrant pallet to unload actual confessions that other lonely listeners can relate to.

Clocking in at just under an hour, its occasionally harrowing contents rendering it an uneasy listen, maybe if BRMC had taken a leaner approach Specter... may have ended up on a few more commercial radars.

There is nothing here that is particularly new, but when it comes to the many, many contemporary bands who take their influence--either musically or aesthetically--from the eighties, Wampire are at the top of the pile.

Certainly, on early listens, it appears to lack some of the strange staying power of the band’s very best releases, as if there’s an indefinable something missing. As a result, this is unlikely to jar experienced Wolf Eyes listeners as much as it is newcomers.

Compared to the way more dynamic Quarter Over a Living Line, some of the tracks on this album have a maddening potential to them (the sequence Glassed/Cold Cain is my personal stress peak), which comes from such an extended use of repetition. At the same time, tracks like ‘Front Running’ and ‘Stummer', manage to sound uplifting, almost motivational in their stubborn pursuit of monotony.

From one angle Earthology could be regarded as indigestibly worthy and academic, and there are moments such as the bamboo-beating 'Ntu' which will definitely test the patience of the casual listener. Yet there's still a funk of an admittedly spaced-out ilk at the album's core.

There’s very little that’s boring about Aerotropolis, quite the opposite in fact, but there’s also not always enough that jumps out.

Though the band are by no means no superstar DJs, the enthusiasm for the music they love is all too apparent. If anything, Tapes will send you digging for the full versions of some fine, forgotten tunes--and that’s no bad thing.

Even though this is a relatively concise Truckers record, it does still have a little flab around the midriff.

'Gods And Monsters' isn't a bad album, merely average which is a real shame.

Ultimately Into The Blue Again disappoints.

If you love Shonen Knife wholly you will probably enjoy Osaka Ramones to some extent.

Takes never truly shakes the initial notion of a missed opportunity: failing to place a distinguishable spin on the material it seeks to celebrate, ultimately coming off a well-intended curio ticking as many boxes as it omits.

For every one of the album's fumbled subtleties, there are several moments when The Districts feint at being great. Enough to show they’re flailing in the right direction.

Contra is a solidly entertaining, well-constructed album, and if people take to it, the tendency to mock the band will, I think, fade, simply because it doesn't have obviously unfashionable moments to feel uneasy about.

There is a really great album rattling around in here and Howard's invention and ambition should be celebrated as such, it's just not quite at the level it could be.

The rest of the album has its moments, though mainly it seems like a chance for the GusGus gang to showcase what other electrified trickery they can muster.

It's Madonna's conservatism that drags her latest record down to the status of a ragtag collection.

The Leisure Society have certainly woven a kind of magic here, but with all their era-hopping it falls a little short of the climaxes of their live performances.

What the record lacks in the main part is a sense of urgency and excitement. Too often the songs wash over you, making no serious appeal for your heart or mind.

On casual listen it’s a perfectly pleasant electro-classical record. But despite the considerable technical talents of its creator, it could be by just about anyone.

Fourteen years on from their last outing, A Perfect Circle’s return to active duty as a living, breathing band is broadly speaking a good thing for the hard rock scene. Just don’t expect a record which silver plates their stellar reputation.

Tongue ‘N’ Cheek is a vacuous but fun party record, one that suspension of disbelief aids immeasurably.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't an Emperor's New Clothes review, just an expression of concern: there aren't enough reasons for casual listeners to come back to this.

It’s a pleasant mess, it’s well-meaning, and there’s enough pop here to satisfy the band’s fans.

Less pretension, more tickling the perimeter of pop perfection next time please, Planningtorock--you can skip the beer belly though.

Ultimately it is telling that the best song present here is a re-imagining of a previous smash. But leveling criticisms of unoriginality or lack of innovation and evolution at bands like BMFV is almost redundant. They're judged on the size of their hooks and in that department Temper Temper largely delivers.

That’s not to say this isn’t promising as a progression from the last album, with signs of grand ambition and more directions to explore.

While there are tracks of beauty and wonder, there are duller moments too, where the history that First Aid Kit derive their music from overwhelms their songs, reminding us always of what came before.

While the album at large maintains the lusciously rich production levels (a marked improvement over their prior LP, which was a stodgy and undercooked thing) there are frequent moments where a self-conscious attempts to inject ‘maturity’ into the song writing undercuts their former charms.

Despite its flaws this first solo offering is a human record; brave and honest, both in content and purpose.

If you’re looking for a neat musical reminder that David Crosby is one of the most influential men of his era--and can still sparkle with some of that same musical magic today, Croz is a worthy listen.

He lives and breathes it [music] like very little people today do, but for all the guitar work, humour, snarling vocals and at times great writing, there is consistently a level of cringyness that goes with it.

The chronological running order of Absolute Garbage is also unfortunate as it renders the CD impotent halfway through.

With a little more focus and a little less self-doubt, The Chapman Family's second record should easily surpass this still pleasing statement of future intent. Just so long as they don't take too much time recording it.

So slick is the production and so smooth is the transition from one moment to the next that Andorra suffers from an apparent reluctance to take us by the scruff of the neck and rattle us out of our mental Laconia.

While there are some lovely sounds on Somewhere Else... but it's hard not to yearn for something more.

There’s no doubting that sensory sensations offered here can hold the listener, but most likely they'll be enjoyed a helluva lot more while chemically-enhanced; essentially this is not a record designed for home listening.

In the hands of a different producer maybe the material assembled for When The Devil's Loose could step forward into something more Technicolor, as its faults are minor, but they are the faults which separate merely pleasant albums from great ones. As it is, When The Devil’s Loose is the former.

These layered, multi-directional numbers stand out rather than fit in. On either side are tunes a little too straightforward, big ideas a little too self-contained to really mesh in the way you want them to.

All the same, nothing hits with the same succinct and simple impact as early wins like ‘List of Demands’ or ‘Black Stacey’.

You can’t deny that their intentions are good, but Let’s Go Extinct really is just missing that certain spark that’s required to lift it above the middle ground.

You eventually wish they'd give the stadium anthems a rest and be more of that small band from High Wycombe.

If these average songs existed without the mercurial glow burning beneath the surface, you could unconcernedly dismiss it as another so-so album.

There's just so many country records being made, each a replica of another, that in moving away from Phosphorescent's original sound, much of Here's To Taking It Easy has found itself dangerously subscribing to banal convention.

Waterloo To Anywhere might not redeploy any cultural guidelines, but take it at its own merits and you may be pleasantly surprised.

Great in parts though it is, Magic Potion isn’t quite the album to attract a raft of newcomers to The Black Keys’ archaic rock.