Slug at their very best are a live band, so I’ll take this album as a warm-up.

While Ternion doesn't have the class, flair or essential brilliance of The English Riveria, it often shows the same gift for understatement and ability to embrace the spaces in between the sounds.

For those that don’t mind accommodating some puppyish enthusiasm to go with their elsewhere-provided edge, there’s plenty of sugary sweet and surreptitiously diverse treats in Phox’s picnic hamper to enjoy.

This is a somewhat underwhelming effort, once again pushing any idea of recapturing that lost magic even further towards the back of their cabinet of curiosities.

For the moment they have tightened the experimental purse strings, offering a less rewarding batch of songs than they’re capable of creating.

While their earlier records managed to keep you drawn in through a direct manner via the rippling intricacies they both possessed, Tunnel Blanket keeps you at a distance, favouring an emphasis on the reverberant aspects that they had touched on previously.

While these jams document an undoubtedly exciting collaboration, only a few of them go so far as to offer anything that sounds like this project's true potential, despite frequently being tantalisingly close.

The fact is that Lovers is an almost unremarkable debut, except for the fact that it hits every target set for itself with clinical accuracy. If you’re in the market for something harder than Celine Dion but a little softer than Dragonette, you could do a lot worse than Anna of the North’s debut.

Despite all of the ingredients for a great album being present, it just doesn’t ignite, perhaps due to the unmoving, maudlin stance from which it is all delivered.

My problem is that AIH don't really give much away. There isn't any real personality on show. It could be any musicians.

The vocal strength that he displays elsewhere on the album isn’t there. There is the decided feeling of potential not being realised.

No alarms and no real surprises, yet the execution carries Crystal Castles 2.0 through.

While there's a noticeable over-reliance on antiquated classic rock bravado, there's plenty of space to explore here to keep the most discerning noise-rock fan interested.

Those wanting significant progression will find Surrounded By Silence mostly lacking.

Lucky aims high but once again falls short.

By no means is this album a disappointment, rather it’s an attempt to fill a particular niche for a specific audience.

There is no doubt that this side of Lil B is his most genuine and I'm sure as a statement Im Gay (Im Happy) is sincere just not quite how you might have assumed.

This is a very well-made album; heads will nod and feet will tap. But it doesn't capture that molten energy that the Icarus Line have been capable of in the past, and as such falls short of greatness

This album is another positive step in the evolution of an intriguing band.

A Oneida stop-gap rehearsal session is more satisfying than most bands' carefully crafted showcase albums, but this LP doesn't reach the same dizzy heights as their previous run of mind-blowing releases.

While The Hold Steady haven't made a bad album this time, they haven't made a really good one either. It's a good album with some problems.

Here's a band skipping from one musical fragment to the next with the reckless abandon of youth, trying out ideas, finding their strengths.

Young the Giant are aiming for big things and they come close.

Delirum has the feel of a late-period Britney album, where production is prized above personality.

Ultimately, while the record will prove to be an enjoyable distraction for ardent fans, it’s hard to shake the feeling that these revamps might have been better saved for the live setting.

Does Tentacles live up to those high standards? Nah, but it doesn’t embarrass itself, and that’s praise enough.

Unfortunately, Indigo Meadow is a so-so affair that never quite fulfills expectations.

Tides [is] a somewhat unbalanced listen, with both genuine highs and a few frustrating lows.

On #N/A the skill of the trio (plus one) is more than evident, it’s just a shame they didn’t try and inject just a little more variety into the mix as well.

It is hard to really know if there is a place for cricket concept albums. Certainly there's a time and a place for them and at the start of an Ashes summer is just that--it's perfect timing from Hannon and Walsh.

A little more clarity wouldn't have gone amiss here and there, but there's enough on offer to bring curious listeners back for repeated spins, which is just as well, as More Faithful is definitely a grower.

The songcraft is back, but the romance is still missing.

Unfortunately, the remix format really extracts and commodifies the sounds of the original albums rather than do anything wildly different or interesting to it. The mix might sound alright on the dancefloor, but so would the original effectively mixed into a good DJ set.

Overall, Alive As You Are's sea change is perhaps just a little too severe to fully engage with in one sitting, and despite the band's insistence this record represents a significant step forward, its retrogressive veneer casts something of a bewildering shadow.

Though it has merit in the strength of its content, Pond Scum may be only one for the collectors.

The music is dynamic, danceable and largely based around swelling arpeggios of stabbing synths, but it remains resolutely cold, major keys avoided.

The songwriting is solid but although their overall sonic palate has been shuffled, they remain a band largely focused on doing things with a tried-and-tested format.

As long as sincerity still counts for something and melody remains king, we'll let these qualms lie and lap up a record that's chock-a-block with comfort food choruses.

All the essential elements of greatness are here in some small form or other, but Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s time is not now.

This record tames its chosen songs, moulding them into softer and smoother beasts, and producing altogether sanitised interpretations.

All songs are played relatively straight--nary a jingle bell in earshot--which is a good choice, as it offsets the devotional aspects of more traditional carols like ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ and ‘Angels We Have Heard On High’.

By now, Frida’s come so far from where she started, you will have been won over, and it’s possible to see the early schmaltz as a necessary counterpoint: a musical analogue of the innocence to be lost, and/or transformed into experience.

They’ve defied compartmentalisation again, managed to avoid crippling themselves in their dramatic reduction of outright 'singles' material, and left the door open to a number of future experiments. Unfortunately it just means that Tonight becomes a makeweight.

Whilst materially an improvement on its predecessor, the move to electronica is superficial.

A number of songs suggest brilliance before stumbling rather into the bland.

At most, half the songs on this album are capable of successfully fusing Finn’s compelling narratives with rather less than impressive instrumentation for an effect that’s worth some merit. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t ‘hold’ for the remainder.

Though occasionally he could have done with his band mates to act as a quality control barometer, overall Odludek shows that Goodwin made the right choice to step back onto the treadmill.

The album falls somewhere between curio and convincing; there’s enough here to hold the attention of the casual Mac fan, however fleetingly, but diehards should find a bit more to dig into in the brighter moments. A worthwhile exercise.

Sounding big may be a pretty good way to get a support slot with the biggest bands in the country and, in time, the world, but after a point you need more to say.

In summary, this is an album which is trying to be lots of things for lots of people. The sadness being that where Royal Blood appealed to so many because of its abandoned musicality and aggression, How Did We Get So Dark? may run the risk of losing its soul and beating heart in order to please the masses.

For now, Strength In Numbers, whilst not exactly redefining the zeitgeist, is a lot better than anyone could have expected.

So Palma Violets get a pass this time, their lack of focus and their naivety balanced by their charm. 180 is a record they're only allowed to make once--next time we're going to need some substance.

As part of a longer discography, Smart Flesh will probably stand as a good, solid point in The Low Anthem's career, a sign of the band developing their sound and their songwriting before delivering something truly special.

Flume’s decision to try his hand at everything, whilst demonstrating his evident enthusiasm and frequent successes, comes at the price of the album’s coherency. Nonetheless, there’s a lot of potential here.

Holy Ghost! is an interesting album and much of the production is loving, well-crafted homage to some wonderfully overlooked disco genres.

Smoking in Heaven is a still novel and mostly welcome dive into an often ignored and overlooked era.

Does this mean Inherit is one for the better-luck-next-time pile? No, because while we’re right to expect more from these three women, their middle of the road still stands heads above much produced by the younger generation of noiseniks.

It seems a little mean to judge this against song-based records - if anything, the narrative arc suggests it's 'about' the deterioration of meaning / tunefulness / drama into the inconsequentiality of real life; still, on its own terms, it's rather precious.

The National Health gives the likeable quintet a firm footing from which to stop their seemingly inevitable decline.

The balance of unsettleing noise and artistic appreciation wavers perhaps a little too much and, as admirable a band as they are, wrapping your ears around their album unfortunately proves to be a little too much work.

It’s more that as a whole, Bizarster just feels a bit lazy and thrown together, and fails to have any real continuity which can hold your attention for the hour that it plays out.

Treefight For Sunlight isn't a knockout success, but it just about contains enough to suggest that, if there's any justice, the Danes deserve a second crack of the whip.

While it’s an intriguing album, it’s one where ideas lack a little conviction.

The album doesn't have that 'grab-hold-and-don't-let-go' emotional pull that would elevate it beyond sounding nice into something to treasure. It's worth your listening time though, because even though it's not always consistently a great album, it's never less than an intriguing effort.

The result is exactly what I Believe wasn't: tasteful, sensitive and containing a fair few memorable tunes.

This is not as good as its predecessor.

This is a solid collection of pop-tunes, but not for connoisseurs.

It is, all in all, a pretty solid front half of a Spiritualized album that sort of transmits intermittently in the middle and then totally falls on its arse for the last three tracks.

There are points on the album when the true Dexys shine through, but a lot of the time the band’s actual sound seems lost behind lush production, and that is a shame for a group of such obvious pop writing talent.

Although it may often be breathtakingly evocative, Ancestral Star is a record that many could admire, but few could truly love.

Good Morning To The Night is not going to reinvent the wheel, provide breathtaking new revelations on Elton John's back catalogue or shine new light on Pnau's songwriting abilities....But for all of that, toes will tap.

While not a failure, Uncanney Valley isn’t the glorious comeback many were expecting.

While being pleasant and listenable enough, Pink Graffiti simply doesn't do enough to set itself apart from the post-chill-glo-surf-wave-fi trend, which is ultimately its downfall.

There’s nothing on Overdrive that’s going to change your mind about Shonen Knife; if nothing else, it’s impressive that they’ve managed to spin so many records out of such a derivative sound.

It’s with a sense of relief then perhaps that Revolution Radio, whilst feeling a little like a pastiche of their forms selves, sees the trio steering a steadier course on more reliable ground.

Ultimately the riffs and hooks aren't up to the standard of previous Coombes-led outings, and whilst the textured soundscapes can help disguise this slightly the reality is that the majority of this record, whilst occasionally interesting and certainly surprising, is just ... a little boring.

As well as they’ve delivered The Teal Album, they don’t quite hit the mark with every one of its takes, with their version ‘No Scrubs’ feeling more than a little bit uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, despite its improvements, the album still suffers from lackadaisical and unfocused songwriting. Sure, this record is quite a bit better than the one originally released, and kudos to the band for taking the time to prove their point.

Starboy is fine, it’s grand and it will do, and it really should be so much more.

There’s a nagging feeling that those derivative misses aren't so much accidental misfires as born out of a writer keen to remain free of the pressures of success. That prevents a promising record from being as good as it had the potential to be.

God is Good is a more confused creation, more like two EPs than a concerted record.

This is something of a missed opportunity.

While the songs on their third recorded set are confident, compositionally astute and capable of slotting into any indie-disco DJ’s mid-set surge towards an electric peak, they more often than not sound like the sum of parts, rather than the frenzied party jams deployed by the band at their scintillating live shows.

In spite of its moments of charm, it’s a far cry from being either a fun retreat into 20 years ago, nor is it any indication that Weezer's reputation will be in better health 20 years from now.

Overall the LP falters too often.

In many places, this record sounds and feels like a migraine captured on tape, and that is not a pleasant experience, nor is it meant to be. Unlike the more luscious, shoegaze influence that's pervaded Black Metal in recent years, this feels like an absolute rejection of that, being as difficult and painful to experience as possible.

To sum them up in one word, "reliable" would be the most appropriate.

Album three in Chromeo's discography, it sees a return to the Eighties electro funk upon which they made their names, albeit stripped down slightly.

Although there’s a vogue for the vintage production techniques and comfortable imperfect noisiness that pervades the record, it doesn’t always do American Wrestlers justice.

Ironically, listening to most of EX feels like watching a film with the sound turned off.

Whether they choose in the future to extend their reach into more abstract or formless areas is up to them, but there are signs here that it could be fruitful for them. Nevertheless, as a debut album, Mechanism displays two musicians with a clear facility for evoking visual landscapes and narrative drama.

Violens have achieved their sound and successfully executed their technique, but are still wanting for purpose.

It may not be perfect, or even great, but Pete Doherty has somewhat surprised with Hamburg Demonstrations by proving to a world increasingly less interested in his antics that, when given the chance, he can still pen a tune or two. Maybe just try including a few more 'bangers' in the next album Pete, eh.

It’s not a step forward, really, it’s a step to the side. There are still hints of the pop star Zayn was drowning out the RnB icon he wants to become.

As a rule, Dove meshes into a good album that might be accounted a small disappointment if this was 1995, but is a pretty spectacular accomplishment for a group of semi-retired musicians in their fifties.

While there are some moments of transcendentally dazzling pop nous on display on Hunger, it is, fundamentally a cosy, harmless record in a retro stylee, made by an all accounts pleasant bunch of musicians who have enjoyed a fairly smooth --by today's standards--ride to where they are now.

When it's good, Rhine Gold has got everything you want. There's ambition, surprise and innovation. It's just that it feels like COYB go on autopilot at certain times, which detracts from the album as a whole.