Honora stands apart as a fascinating, if sometimes flawed, labour of love.

It’s a record that definitely holds rewards for the patient listener, but it’s also one that cries out for a judicious pair of editing scissors.

While his charisma and star power remain undimmed, too much of this record is – pun intended – style over substance.

Ultimately, Join Hands gives a decent impression of Congratulations’ sound, even if it becomes a bit too much over the course of an album. However, there’s enough songwriting prowess demonstrated here to hint that there may be even better things in the future from Congratulations.

The only issue with Somebody Tried To Sell Me A Bridge is that it’s so long that anyone other than the most devoted Morrison devotee will find it a bit of a slog. At 1 hour 20 minutes and 20 tracks, it could certainly do with some judicious editing.

Their debut album, Wasted On Youth is, at best, an exercise in earnest revivalism. At worst, it’s just as credible and entertaining as albums by The Ordinary Boys, Towers Of London or The Enemy.

The best moments are the shorter, punchier songs, but too often they can’t resist becoming a bit too proggy, such as on Shaunie and The Winged Boy.

It’s full of perfectly fine sunny pop songs, but few tracks really stand out.

Circa Waves do what they do very well. And ultimately both volumes of Death & Love do a decent job at documenting an undoubtably traumatic time in Circa Waves’ lives.

If there’s a fault to We Are Love, it’s probably that the immediate hooks that define The Charlatans’ best moments are missing. It’s an album more built on atmosphere and feel, and you do sometimes miss that exhilarating rush that tracks like One To Another, Love Is The Key or Weirdo had in spades.

For an artist who’s capable of making genre and generation defining records, Deadbeat just simply isn’t good enough. Too much fluff, too many unfinished ideas, too ponderous, too flabby.

The Life Of A Showgirl isn’t a particularly bad album, but given Swift’s immense back catalogue, too much of it sounds like an artist on autopilot and in need of a rest.

Ultimately, this isn’t a classic Alice Cooper record by any means; it has a few good songs here and there, but nothing canonical. But, if the point is to document a bunch of old friends getting together and doing the thing that gave their lives meaning, and sounding like they’re having a blast, then it’s mission accomplished.

The songs where Burna Boy focuses on nimble flows and minimal production, like Dem Dey and Kabiyesi, are far superior. He’s a versatile, engaging performer, and No Signs Of Weakness is at its best with no distractions.

The only issue with My First Album is that it sometimes feels a bit unfocused, and the tonal shifts the record takes can become a bit jarring.

While this never quite touches the highs that Erasure can produce, there’s enough moments on Ten Crowns to convince that Bell and Aude make a good partnership for when Vince Clarke wants a rest.

The album’s sprawl and ambition is laudable, but also its downfall, as it often feels like a bit of a chore to wade through. As an album it’s too patchy, and as a document of a man’s life, a well-researched biography is probably a better bet.

Though the duo occasionally strike gold, too many of these songs ultimately sound like pop as tabloid fodder.

The hook-filled I Seeeeee You Baby Boi plays to Carti’s more melodic instincts. .... Tracks like these are simple in the best way, complementing his loose, spontaneous rapping style, but over the course of this album’s 30 tracks the lack of vision becomes apparent and the inconsistency becomes egregious.

There’s potential across this record, but not consistent greatness.

Dear Life is a fine album that will appeal to his long-term fans – the sort of steady, consistent record that we’re used to from him by now.

There’s nothing outright bad on Bouquet, but it’s more that it’s all so insipid and safe. Love and marriage are to be celebrated of course, but on this evidence they don’t make for the world’s most exciting music.

The band’s first album in eight years, its brittle plastic funk and syrupy ballads are offset by meaty riffs and disco beats, but that makes musically for a somewhat jarring listen – especially from a band who have always been renowned for sonic cohesion.

Yet even if it does run out of steam a bit towards the end, there’s enough on Tension II to cement Kylie’s reputation as the Queen of Pop. Whether it would have worked better as an EP is debatable, but it complements its predecessor nicely without ever quite overshadowing it.

Too often on For Cryin’ Out Loud, he plays it far too safe and sounds up sounding like any other pop singer – and, as there’s a lot of competition out there, a bit more daring may be required should Finneas come out of the production/songwriting shadows next time.

It’s a fun listen the first time, and a reasonable one at the second listen, but how it does after that is anyone’s guess. Enjoy, but proceed with caution.

This is flat, formulaic and forgettable.

ten days finds him in a state of flux, running through a variety of styles, and while the results aren’t perfect it’s certainly his most interesting album yet.