Some of the songs like 'Miss You' and 'In The Grace of Your Love' have genuinely good moments and are enjoyable whilst they last. However, it's hard to escape the feeling that this is a band struggling to define themselves in a musical context that no longer needs them.

Jeff Bridges might not be the actor's most emotional performance - to see that you need to watch the last five minutes of Fearless - but it is a surprisingly heartfelt piece of work, packed with enough hooks and harmonies to show he's obviously a keen student of the greats.

Nevermind the continual rebooting of their franchise, this should be the time to quietly lay the series to rest and focus on the box-sets. This band simply have nothing more to say.

It's the sound of a band completely at ease with themselves despite hostile surroundings, where music becomes both a document of life and a means to ease away from its greatest challenges for a little while.

This album is a reminder of the healing power of three dweebs, or how much fun it would be to watch Brian Wilson getting caught in a triangle of punk.

There's a completely unique blend of textures and a desire for musical experimentation running through the bloodstream of The Golden Age of Apocalypse, and it would be a great shame to see that overlooked.

A Different Kind Of Fix is an evolution of baby steps for Bombay Bicycle Club and one which will leave you wondering if Jack Steadman and co are ever going to burst into full bloom.

All said and done, it's the kind of enchanting, quietly literate indie rock record you could build an intricately compelling life story from, while retaining a fascinating jumble of half-told, quarter-understood anecdotes, stolen glances and sad, gleaming characters for leftovers. Lovely stuff.

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

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.

As Program 91 soars over--here we go--fjords of excellence, it never really lands or takes off with any satisfying oomph.

The main flaw with Eno and Holland's collaboration is that words which, read on a page or spoken into silence, might have the space to spark a host of mental images, here frequently seem flattened by the music.

As with so many albums in the contemporary indie-electronica world, there is a decent one simmering somewhere inside of EVINSPACEY (this sentence makes me curse the existence of cease-and-desist orders).

While World Wide Rebel Songs exudes confidence, its execution is like attempting to cross too many "T"s with your eyes closed: odds are that you'll get one or two right, but it's impossible to consistently hit the mark.

This is easily Beirut's most accessible-sounding effort yet.

The rest of the record is suddenly and gracefully, if somewhat confusingly, scooped up in the slightly irksome breezes of troubadour lo-fi, though considering the chops of that opening brace it's hardly a deal breaker.

An escapist Jamaica-pop lark with a traditional bent and a big heart, in the realms of good-times bass you could do a lot worse than the classy and charming Watch Me Dance.

What this duo have is exactly that – heart. They also have balls to spare, but don't tell them that – those little fellas get into all kinds of trouble. Wouldn't want to worry them.

This is a fruitful and distinctive addition to Malkmus' oeuvre, not least thanks to Beck who also produced Thurston Moore's latest outing with a similarly sensitive finesse.

Route One or Die is a heavy, sometimes dizzyingly diverse listen. Despite this, the band's emphasis on melody means these songs hook you in from the very first listen, while still having more wonders to reveal to you on repeated listens.

FOW just seem go through the motions. No sweat. No tongue in cheek either.

By psychobilly's own modern standards it's serviceable, faithful, consistent and good for a groggy pogo, but in the greater scheme of things there's very little here to nourish the modern punk fan.

They're one of only a tiny handful of bands currently using retrospective influences from the past to create something relevant and unique for the present and beyond.

A tastefully produced, solid entry into the Man Man catalogue.

Thanks to a couple of moments where they give in to the anthemic impulses, the rest of Slave... can afford to drift along at its own singular pace, with rewarding results.

Excerpts is a work of forgetful minimalism; it is powerfully repetitious--perhaps, in waves, completely random.

Nothing Is Wrong would have been a better record had that time been spent eking the emotion out of their own lives, rather than their record collections.

Haters are gonna hate given the artists in question – but to be disappointed with Watch the Throne is to be disappointed with the rap game in 2011.