Like Within and Without, it's no overhaul, but Young Hunger has a much more immediate presence, more direct in both a melodic and emotional sense and generally with a lot more 'oomph'.

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.

The band has pulled off the difficult trick of sculpting a record concerned with weighty, complex themes and made it sound like the breeziest, most effortless thing in the world: a collection of fleet, shimmering pop songs; a master-class in sonic splendour; a bold, beautiful and brilliant reinvention that should surprise as many as it will enthrall.

At least there’s a couple of good ones here to stick onto the singles collection that’s inevitably just around the corner.

Just as Shuman himself demands attention within the crowded QOTSA line-up, Mini Mansions should shine in their own right regardless of their imposing origins. All they require are your ears. It would be rude to turn down such a delectable request.

Sounds Of The Universe arguably goes on for a bit too long--it doesn't help that closer 'Corrupt' is throwbackish bobbins--and it certainly could have done without token Gore vocal ‘Jezebel’. But other than that it’s just a damn fine record, possessed of the kind of unshowy high quality the Basildon band have seemingly actively opposed in the past.

Preferring patience and restraint over explosive blasts of atmospheric wailing, iLiKETRAiNS slowly build up these songs to climax, careful not to move to quickly to alter the mood that this entire collection expels.

There’s no swinging drama in Brion’s work on Lady Bird, but the meaning isn’t hard to find, either; it’s light, but not frothy. Above all, just like the film, it’s warm as toast.

It will surprise no-one that they sound more natural and free when they sing in their native French tongue, but the tracks sung in English are far, far beyond any vowel-rolling cliché and are actually rather sweet and touching.

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

A most wonderful storm of a record indeed.

Trouble Maker is a return to force for Rancid< and is the musical equivalent of a football team winning a major trophy after years in the wilderness and the absolute elation that comes with that. However there is a downside. ... Rancid could have released Trouble Maker at any point since they began.

The album proves itself to be as an unusual cocktail of all of the band’s previous guises--Urie might have gone mad with power, his band purged to its brittle skeleton, but when it comes together, it can still occasionally be thrilling.

It’s difficult to be bowled over by the fact that The Killers have essentially crafted an enjoyable but fairly throwaway pop record.

It might not rocket them out of their obscurity but Disappears have created a record that can appease fans happy with how they sounded anyway and those that are searching for something new.

Blood Speaks a largely timeless-feeling piece which not only sounds like it could have been written any decade over the last 40 years or so, but feels eternal in the way it runs its course.

Something To Tell You is no disaster and you could do worse for background listening whilst tackling the ironing or something, but music really shouldn’t be quite this uninspired, nor should the artists at the helm.

It’s a crushingly un-exuberant album, powered by neither anger nor joy, howls of rage nor whoops of exhilaration, not revelling in any particular aspect of the band’s music, nor kicking against any pricks. The lyrics dabble with outsiders and the odd bit of queer imagery, but there’s nothing revelatory, incendiary or revealing.

Nine albums in, Death Cab for Cutie are just about holding it together, but you have to wonder if the title Thank You For Today belies nothing more than a grateful acknowledgement of continued existence.

Like many of his records, it's more of a collection of songs than a 'play from beginning to end' affair.

A hidden gem in a murky quagmire of landfill non-entities.

Cast away the politics and the last twenty minutes and you'll still be left with two or three top tunes to add to your daily playlists, but it was never going to be ground-breaking or innovative.

The biggest problem with You Cross My Path isn’t so much the music though; sure it’s not an invigorating brew, but the blend of swirling Hammond and ponderous bass and drums stays on the right side of tepid most of the time.

Intimacy is not quite the radical statement its makers might think it is (I’m not sure what could be given the group’s evident ambitions), but it’s definitely a little bit of invigorating redemption at a time when doubts were beginning to cloud what was, initially, a flawless reputation.

Maniac Meat is only really disappointing when compared to what came before, because try as it might, it can neither supercede nor outdo its predeces at it's own game.

While it certainly shows Blink to have the potential for much more than their past reputation may convey, Neighborhoods is reminiscent of that first awkward conversation after a heated argument, as no-one's quite sure where to go next.

It's not a bad record (they knew I was going to say that) and in the Eighties-MTV alternative rock-lite rush of Thrones it does have one genuinely great pop moment, which as far as I'm aware is more than can be said for any of its predecessors.

One of the great indie-rock releases of the year. ... The new songs are what really impress, glowing with a sparky freshness few saw coming.