Even though it’s not overlong at only 55 minutes, it still feels bloated and unnecessary.

More a record to crush on than fall in love with, but free it from expectations and it'll take a small part of your heart.

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.

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 the sound of a band that, all things considered, has upheld remarkably high standards over a four decade career, and this eighteenth studio album is the latest highlight in a long list of very genuine standouts.

The real joy of Adams’ back catalogue is that both his vocal mannerisms and skill as a guitarist have allowed him to take a versatile approach to his songwriting; both are evident on Ryan Adams, but the one aspect that does suffer is his lyricism.

Plastics represents a significant first step upon which the group can move upwards from, and it’s exciting to see what they do next. But it’s a shame they couldn’t carry the excellence through to the end of a record.

Manipulator affording him space to rise above his obvious points of reference and create the one thing no one envisioned for album number seven: Ty Segall as both uncompromised AND accessible artist. The complete package.

Both songs [Vapor and RIPP] provide interesting interludes in an otherwise pretty average album.

At Best Cuckold isn't an explosive game changer, nor is it particularly different to what's already out there, but it sure as hell earns a proud place above its peers.

Nothing, not even their own past as a middling indie-pop crossover act, is sacred, and it’s sad to see The Kooks attempt to conjure past glories and fall flat.

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

All told, Keep Moving is pretty much everything a second album should be. It takes the strengths of the first record and builds on them, it explores new ideas, and crucially it’s a much more cohesive musical affair than Slow Down.

Primitive and Deadly is the latest in a recent suite of triumphs- by this point Earth are masters of their game, making music that’s bigger and more powerful than anything mere mortals should be able to create.

A New Nature breathes more freely than anything this group has ever produced before and, as such, showcases a more confident and coherent band than one may reasonably have expected.

It’s most thrilling moments are the ones you’ve already heard before.

In the midst of all this evolution, Pulled Apart By Horses are still fun, and the enthusiasm with which they pummelled through their earlier efforts is still present here.

The unwillingness to risk emotional connection seen on Mars meant it often slipped into the background, but the shift to more straightforward songcraft and the continuing successful genre fusion means Mean Love both demands and rewards attention.

Bold in intention and quiet in confidence, they've gone back to basics here and for the most part, the results are sublime.

It won't win many points for originality--indeed they may lose a few old fans along the way - but this is the sound of a band reborn.

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.

There's no doubt that Skee-Dat-De-Dat...Spirit of Satch is a project of love, but by the closing stages there's no getting away from it; the album is a bit of a... drag.

A tight bind of rhythm and noise, of chugging menace and sudden spikes.

The Wytches have proved themselves a genuinely intriguing proposition, one with far more up their sleeves than just straight-up punk raucousness, but that also have evidently not quite got a handle on how best to present themselves on record, either--given that this is their first effort, though, that’s entirely forgivable.

There’s absolutely no doubting the supreme quality of Wilderness of Mirrors, the first work that English has conceived as a traditional album since 2011.

Despite the dualistic structure of Angels & Devils, the album’s two halves are never in opposition to one another; its vocalists all equally damned, equally resilient to their fate.

Brill Bruisers--like most albums--isn’t as good as Mass Romantic. But its qualities are manifold, and it is a delight to note that after some 15 years together, the New Pornographers seems to have stopped being a supergroup and turned into a band.

Much as it tries to be quirky and difficult, it is in fact a wonderfully satisfying listen.