An album that ably melds together ‘80s coldness and ‘90s warmth, and then brings it right up to date.

The potential is clearly there; The Naked And Famous just need to trim away some of the fat.

It’s well crafted and well paced, and features more than enough discordantly catchy riffs (at least two corkers in Beat alone) to sustain the listener’s interest. But for all that, it’s an album dusted only lightly with genuine greatness.

Loud Like Love has bright spots, but the laborious moments threaten to undo their good work.

Not only is it one of Costello’s best collaborative efforts, it’s also one of his best albums full stop. Recommended for Costello newcomers and long-time believers alike.

It’s a brilliantly consistent and, at eight tracks, concise offering that perfectly captures their sound.

The rich history which The Diving Board draws on also slightly undermines it: there is certainly nothing bad here yet so much of it has been done by Elton before.

When an album’s quality level ranges from intolerable to merely tolerable, it’s not a positive sign. Middling.

30 Years Of War aside, this is an album that finds the Manics in fine form.

With the lightweight numbers up front and the centrepiece dominating the lacklustre cast around it, the album is surely one of the most uneven and unsatisfying in recent memory from Callahan.

MGMT seem to have settled into their groove here, or more correctly their two concurrent grooves. On one hand, they seem able to produce easily digestible fuzzy pop songs slightly reminiscent of soft rock with what appears to be consummate ease; on the other, they can enter into all manner of sonic digressions with a noteworthy lightness of touch.

There may not be enough to lift them above the rather crowded market of similar sounding contemporaries on Weird Sister, but it does hint at a solid enough future.

This is real music, about real people, dealing in real emotion. That it sounds so gorgeously lush too is mere icing on a very rich cake.

The album’s relative drop in quality towards the second half is a minor quibble though. Obits have long since made their point.

A long delayed follow up, it has emerged in its own time as a gentle triumph.

Overall, If You Wait is an accomplished first LP, one that features a number of spellbinding singles and some moments of genuine, heartfelt emotion.

It’s always a joy to hear a band blossoming into something bigger and bolder. Apar is the glorious sound of Delorean taking that step.

They make up an entire color palette of music and lyrics, of sounds and themes, that when combined on Rutili’s canvas make up truly original territory.

Nobody Knows should be the start of a brilliant career, not the conclusion of a merely promising one.

The album is admirably steeped in pop music history without seeming derivative and where The Electric Lady triumphs is in its ability to connect with the listener.

While the days of the indie dancefloor hits from their first two records may be long gone, the Arctic Monkeys we’re left with now are undoubtedly at the top of their game.

This is a record with so much swagger, poise and confidence it could have been recorded by a band twice their age.

On The Worse Things Get, there’s not a weak song.

Most of the other tracks on the LP aren’t nearly as exciting to hear as the first two singles.

It’s hard to believe that The Strypes can make such an old-fashioned style of music cool for a younger generation but they give it their best shot in this fully committed album.

It may well be Múm’s most balanced, enjoyable record yet.

Basically, it’s a fantastic debut.

For a guy who nails the ’60s and ’90s indie pop sound so well, he didn’t do quite enough research; at least not enough to make an individual statement that’s unique and captivating for the rest of us.

[A] belated, frazzled, intense and sometimes overwhelming follow-up album delivers on his promise.

In sum, A DFA artist such as Gus doesn’t have to be dancey to be catchy, but he has to offer something to which one can willingly return. In that aspect, Gus succeeds a few times, but he still has a way to go.

There is undeniable passion and love infused throughout these songs and, if they tick all the right boxes, they do it magnificently.

Whether John Wizards’ debut album has lasting power is impossible to know, but for the moment, they’ve wholly succeeded in at least making something to appreciate.

An album of bona fide radio hits in an ideal world, a fine example of mainstream rock at its most tasteful, music that’s going to be popular and sell a lot but that’s not afraid to subtly defy expectations of what its makers are.

The dabbling with country music overall, however, is rather hit and miss and the distinct lack of variation over several tracks won’t help sell this album in large quantities. There is enough here though to satisfy those die-hard fans.

All in all, Sequel To The Prequel is a consistent and accomplished return from Babyshambles.

Ultimately it’s likely to work best on a cold winter’s night in a remote cottage with just the wind, a raging log fire, a glass of the strong stuff and sad memories for company.

Sounding more like Bon Iver than Volcano Choir’s own debut, this offering will surely appease Vernon’s fans most; while it deviates rather sharply from Unmap, there are occasional moments that recall the band in its infancy but it is clear that the four years since the debut arrived have resulted in the band’s evolution--and they are all the better for it.

The use of the light, nimble calabash instead of drums helps craft a subtle, hypnotic sound that eschews the rock dynamics recently incorporated by the likes of Tinariwen or Tamikrest. This approach creates music that is somehow simultaneously vibrant and contemplative.

Forever is a decent offering from a young band still developing their music and songwriting capabilities.

Splashh have done what their equally fresh-faced contemporaries have tried to do: make an exciting debut.

Breach is a fine return, but will most likely be seen as a transitional album in years to come.

In terms of songwriting quality alone, Invasion Of Love knocks spots off the competition.

It’s hard to deny that The Third Eye Centre is probably a fan-only affair and, indeed, a bit of a curate’s egg. Much of the time though, it’s a pretty tasty egg.

Ultimately, Era is a difficult album to get a handle on. Much like Wire’s 1979 masterpiece, it really, properly throws you the first few times, but the haunting oddness of the tracks means they gradually burrow their way under your skin.

What’s perhaps most impressive on Carrier is that the traditional (by The Dodos’ standards) rock songs, like the restrained Family, work just as well as the comparatively experimental tracks like Confidence.

This is not a world-changer, but it’s exciting, and great fun.

It’s a poised, carefully executed balance that captures Ikonika in an intriguing period of transition.

It’s an album that has facets from across the spectrum of experimental electronic music but, in the hands of the masterful sonic auteur Matthew Barnes, Forest Swords’ music sounds triumphantly singular. This is a very special album.

In The Shadow Of Heaven, Money have unveiled themselves as an ambitious band, who owe a fair bit to the influences of the city they live in as well as the generations of artist who have been inspired to write thoughtful rock music there.

An epic album, one that is occasionally repetitive but never less than one eye on the future, one eye on the road and the third eye gazing in awe at the heavens.

The mixture of mournfulness, savagery, lo-fi spirit and noise should appeal to psych fans and college rockers, metalheads and hardcore punks alike.

Delivering on all his potential with the sort of nonchalance and assurance we’ve come to expect from the young man, 6 Feet Beneath The Moon is a special album, from a special artist.

Franz Ferdinand have done what they didn’t quite manage on Tonight, combining their more experimental leanings with their irresistible dance-punk sound to create right thoughts, right words, right action, right album.

Falling down, getting up, and persevering through music is something Superchunk have done time and time again. On I Hate Music, they’ve bested even themselves.

Overall, Sound The Alarm is an experiment that sometimes wildly succeeds, sometimes pleases, sometimes bores, and sometimes crashes and burns.

When the band take a decent melody and build a whole track around it, the formula is a winning one; what won’t appeal to some though are the occasional meanderings where the spacey blips and bleeps appear to have no meaningful musical direction.

Despite the variety of styles on offer, Remiddi’s songs still have a tendency to seep into one another, and there seems to be more of an emphasis on atmosphere than melody on some tracks. However that atmosphere is well worth soaking in.

As it stands, Golden Suits is a lovely record, but one that could benefit from loosening up a little.

On the whole, it’s business as usual; a collection of brilliantly composed melodies that just lack the gravitas to lift them higher.

The lack of drums on large chunks of An Object initially gives the feeling that the album is lacking an anchor, but when the band explore the shimmering noise cosmos of closing track Commerce, Comment, Commence they sound expansive and exquisite, something that their more forthright punk approach can’t hope to achieve.

While it’s a hard sell to recommend something like this in the middle of summer, those brave enough to embrace the darkness will find much to enjoy.

The album becomes more expansive in scope the further through you listen.

The album’s sense of propulsion is so strong even the weaker tracks don’t drag at all.

These versions serve to highlight what we already knew, that Zola Jesus is a phenomenal talent. To have these songs reworked and in some cases made even more powerful than the original counterparts is testament to the skills and attention to detail of all those involved.

This is possibly her most satisfying album to date; it is, at times, quite spellbinding.

The band’s ability to contrast their often dark lyrics with upbeat melodies ensures that there is much more to the record than first meets the eye and, while Little Green Cars may not be the finished article just yet, Absolute Zero proves they undoubtedly have bags of potential.

It’s certainly a very different sort of album from Native Speaker, with far more emphasis on glitchy beats and ambient electronica than on their previous record, but after a few listens you can’t help but be impressed by the evolution on display.

It politely demands your attention; it wants to transport you elsewhere, to a place in which to daydream and reflect. Hindman and Versprille were absolutely right to go it alone; they’ve made a beautiful album.

It’s certainly Holter’s most accomplished and imaginative album--indeed, there hasn’t been an album this packed with ideas since tUnE-yArDs' w h o k i l l a couple of years ago.

This is a glacially beautiful album that you’ll do well to spend a lot of time with.

Crimes Of Passion finds Crocodiles in scintillating form and is full of the kind of carefree rock that should make them more popular than they are.

With Skyer, the Swedish trio have created their own dreamlike gossamer world where the exaltation to “take me to the clouds above” is almost realised.

Whether the second volume expands on this achievement is unlikely, but Thile now must be considered--along with Bela Fleck--as one of the contemporary masters of the mandolin, exercising his powers across multiple genres.

While it may be a tremendously personal album for Barwick, you can get lost in Nepenthe for not only its sheer beauty, but for its ability to evoke visual cues and tell stories with its music.

It may not have the instant appeal of To Lose A Life, but the combination of the running narrative and a host of memorable hooks make it their most consistent record to date.

For their entire career, The Polyphonic Spree have succeeded not necessarily when they’ve sounded big, but when they’ve been the leader of the pack of the weird. Many of the tracks on Yes, It’s True suggest that the band is thankfully moving back in that direction.

Overall, Paracosm is an impressive return from an artist who is still learning his trade.

The lasting sense left is of an unexplored potential which, if this is it for The Civil Wars, could be in its own messy way an appropriate swansong.

The problem with Tides End as a whole is that it all sounds a bit like a blander, toned-down version of every electro-rock album released in the late Noughties, and unfortunately for Minks, five years isn’t long enough for people to get nostalgic about a certain sound.

Overall, however, when listening to Personal Appeal--a tremendously satisfying listen nonetheless--you wonder what a Moore record might sound like if he took some time to plan or tweak his musical ideas.

Although the majority of the songs only hang around for a minute, Dead In The Dirt are quite adept at changing tack mid song, no matter how ridiculous it might be.

It requires a few listens to grasp but after that it’s pretty rewarding.

There is a sense that perhaps Swisher is Blondes pushing their oblique take on dance culture by way of rhythmic experimentation as far as it can go, but there’s no doubt that where they have taken it is to an entirely new and sublime level.

Amazingly, 14 years since their last studio album, the clock has been turned back and Big Country have produced an album on a par with some of their earlier work, probably surpassing 1988’s Peace In Our Time.

The prolificacy is undoubted, and at times the quality is unequivocally intriguing. But with the tendency to occasionally experiment and deviate, consistency is not forthcoming; that said, when Pond hit the right notes they soar.

Raffertie’s talent as a producer has never been in question. Sleep Of Reason has been a long time coming, but these 13 pieces of fractured soul represent a supreme triumph.

As two stuck-together EPs, then, perhaps the set might be taken better as a promising if flawed articulation of a vision yet to fully flower.

While Where The Heaven Are We isn’t a perfect debut album, it’s a solid effort, and there’s enough talent on display to hint at even better things to come.

Ultimately, Lenses is a masterly album and Soft Metals’ brand of inventive, ghostly electro is a welcome break from the flood of brainless EDM that’s cluttering up airwaves and dancefloors everywhere at the moment.

The Savage Heart is often just that,uncompromisingly breaking new, often bleakly fertile, ground for the band, showing they can still evolve emotionally.

Although the musical advance Beady Eye have made in BE does not extend to the clumsy lyrics, Liam shows he is not just a balls-out bawler and the band sound sharp.

Its aching honesty and immaculate balance prevents About Farewell from being just another break-up record, as Diane presents something to us lyrically raw but unafraid to sport obviously produced yet sentimentally appropriate musical flourishes, from strings to harmonizing female choruses, when the time comes.

What may at first come across as a bottled up effort does in fact reveal astounding complexity on repeated listening.

It’s different enough from its predecessor to show marked progress, but with all the original essentials present and correct. The bar was set high; All Pigs Must Die have set it higher still.

An engaging and rather captivating record.

There are certainly moments that feel like filler, but there’s much to like about Ghost Outfit. I Want You To Destroy Me is not life-changing or revelatory but it is a solid offering and occasionally provides the odd knockout blow of a song.

So, very strange but oddly compelling--rather like Mr Haines himself.

The Inheritors is a rich and vivid work that is as mysterious as it is compelling.