There's enough humour in the words and inventiveness in the production to keep coming back to these songs, though you can only hope Wolf will sound a little less broken the next time around.

Bella is a decent album, but one that is more likely to attract appreciative nods than the slap-me-on-the-patio lust that Thompson needs to raise his career to the next level.

It’s not perfect, but it does point towards promising a future.

The commitment to developing their sound into urgent and strident rock is commendable yet the execution leaves you cold at times.

Sub Verses may be genre hopping, but it’s not a particularly challenging listen as compared to its predecessors, albums that were both challenging and fun.

In succeeding for much of Human, Brandy makes a committed and surprisingly emotive return.

Violet Cries isn't an easy album to get into, and it may well prove too impenetrable for the casual listener. They may not signal a Goth revival, but there's enough promise here to justify keeping an eye on this Brighton trio.

Overall, No Romeo does a good job of laying down some promising foundations and confirming what Solo Dancing had already suggested--that Indiana is far more interesting than most of the uninspiring pop artists dominating the charts at the moment. Where the album suffers is in its baggy running time and lack of standout tracks to match her most recent singles.

So while Cuomo might be frustratingly stuck in himself, Everything Will Be Alright In The End shows that he’s taking the first trepidatious steps into an earnest reflection on what it’s taken to be the man he’s become.

Whilst they are mostly good cuts, the vocal tracks are disappointing in comparison (with the exception of Beneath The Black Sea); ultimately, there’s likely to be a few yawns and subsequent yearning for a new album by The National instead.

The tracks don’t excite particularly: it’s all rather pedestrian, with the album occasionally struggling to hold attention. This is a shame, because the album’s closer and standout track, The Stars, shows they can manage it.

Lengthier drawn out psych-jams similar to TOY could be one direction that would be an improvement, as would the addition of a guitar maestro, but without a special ingredient you can’t help but feel The Proper Ornaments will sadly find themselves consigned to granny’s shelf too soon, a fact you desperately don’t want to see happen, such is the potential hinted at throughout.

Although a tad overlong and samey after 15 tracks, occasionally drifting into wine bar background music territory, there are some immediate standouts on Room Under The Stairs.

the samples-led, organic electronica here may produce intriguing textures--and Phillips' background as a soundtrack composer is never in doubt--but it is hard work to find anything approaching coherence here.

For new fans, this is a pretty good introduction. For fans who already own all his previous work, it's more of the same, but so well-crafted that they probably won't mind.

This feels like something that Harcourt did for his own satisfaction, and as a little treat for his fans. There’s nothing wrong with that, it doesn’t leave a lot for the rest of us to dig into.

Obviously all is still not perfect in Britney's world, but Circus still does more than enough to remind us of why she's one of the world's most iconic pop stars.

It’s a shame that this is an album slightly prone to dwelling on its ambience. Still, this is a promising collaboration which Denison, Hacke and Kotue will hopefully choose to reprise and develop.

While the album does lose some of its focus and direction towards the end, Dear Miss Lonelyhearts is undoubtedly a much better album than Mine Is Yours.

Jekyll Island is probably not going to be their breakthrough album to a wider public, but their forthcoming debut European tour is bound to bring them some new fans.

Musically, I’m Not Bossy is pure pop with a wonderful glam mindset, but there was certainly more lyrical attention needed for it to succeed its intended purpose.

The Hangman Tree is certainly a decent sapling with plenty to like, but the love or loathe vocals mingle with the predominantly wonky atmosphere to prevent this from being a mighty oak.

six songs may only run to seventeen minutes, but for the devoted it will be a case of quality overriding quantity.

My Sad Captains do have an unfortunate tendency of allowing their subtle, crafted melodies to occasionally lose focus and meander.

Though this isn’t a complete comeback, frustrated Kanye fans certainly have more grounds for optimism after this record than they did before it.

It feels like a work in progress, skeletally over-precise and over-long.

Music To Be Murdered By succumbs to temptation a few times, with a pop concession here and a lacklustre verse there, but it’s the clearest sign yet that there’s a future for Eminem as well as a legacy.

There’s material on this album that’s fun, from the bouncy Blondie backing vocals on Pretty Awful, to the yob jazz of Dirty Mucky Delight, but it’s hard to make a case for most of it being essential listening.

When it hits the spot, Moby’s writing is still subtly powerful, but when it doesn’t a curious and lasting emptiness remains. This may accurately reflect the imbalances of the world, but as a musical work it ultimately feels off-kilter.

There are still a few forgettable plodders on All Quiet – the likes of Baron’s Claw and Be Young seem to be a bit phoned in. Yet while the fire of 20 years ago is inevitably never going to be reignited, this new version of The Libertines seems to be settling quite nicely into a once unimaginable middle age.

Still Living is an unobjectionable album, and any of its songs, taken individually, are certainly a fine soundtrack to the final lazy days of summer. As a whole, though, Still Living barely limps along, only occasionally revealing flashes of semi-greatness, and it ultimately falls victim to its own aesthetics.

It’s tough to spot much progress on Foxhole when compared to Wooden Head. In fact, it’s more devolution than evolution but the simple sparseness works well in moderation for some well penned songs.

It's this capacity to write immediately affecting songs coupled with an effortless cool that will see Hurts catapulted towards stardom. The fact that the album tails off dramatically with a series of appalling ballads in the shape of The Water and Unspoken will almost certainly be overlooked in favour of the classy sounds of Wonderful Life or the glorious pulsing anthem of Better Than Love.

The result is fun, easily listenable, entertaining and good material for weddings, 40th birthday parties and, for those of you who weren't there the first time round, any '80s theme party you might want to hold.

Although there mightn’t be a Feed The Tree or Super Connected to be found this time round, Dove is a coherent collection that retains Belly’s essence while acknowledging the passing of nigh-on a quarter of a century.

When Blunt sticks to playing it safe, he offends the least. And whilst it seems contrived to applaud an artist for sticking to his zone, this man is an exceptional case.

Despite its occasional uplifting moments, the overall feeling you get from Ultra Vivid Lament is indeed a lament for something better, something briefly promised by Resistance Is Futile despite its title sounding more Borg-like than Star Trek character Seven Of Nine.

The album is certainly easy to listen to but it could do with a bit more of the focus, directness and urgency of the band's EP. Perhaps, then Surf City will get the kudos they are looking for.

Ultimately, there are some really strong pop moments on here, but they’re overshadowed by inane, inert, insignificant drama-queening of the highest degree.

As interesting as Garratt seems on the surface, his debut is constantly attempting to straddle the line between being edgy and different and achieving widespread appeal. Ultimately, it is the latter that wins through and the end result is a record that is highly accomplished, but lacking in any real adventure.

There are certainly highlights but not enough good songs to give the album a big impact overall.

An album which is both fascinating and hard to listen to at times. Gag Order may not go down as Kesha’s best album, but it’s certainly the album that she has to make at this present time.

Prince is at his best when his music is unmistakably his. Half of the tracks on 3121 could not have been made by anyone else, but the slushy R&B ballads are not amongst them.

Ultimately, by the end of Word Of Mouth, there is a feeling that it is more interesting conceptually than it is musically.

Basically, this is the sound of a band happy to be coasting, which can be a chore to listen to.

For now, Held In Splendor is a promising, if limited, stepping stone.

If only her music might just occasionally match the freeform, flighty, extravagant nature of her words.

Like a lot of her previous albums, The Breakthrough is overlong and spoilt by too many producers sticking their oar in.

Despite the classic approach of most of the songwriting here there’s no doubt that it’s a step up in quality for Nesbitt and the result is her most assured and confident collection of songs yet.

There’s much to enjoy on True Romance, although it’s probably best sampled in small doses as it doesn’t hang together that successfully over the course of an album.

While there is a satisfying absence of polish, there is a feeling of substantial professionalism to the whole of One Track Mind.

He’s going for a darker sound, one which explores different themes than he is used to, but some of the resonance is negated by a reliance on grandiosity. Some judicious editing and pruning might have been preferable.

This record probably won’t change the world in the manner that Van Gogh’s art did, but fans of quiet, unfussy acoustic music will find much to enjoy.

There’s no doubting Middleton’s way with a skewed tune and a wry look at the world, but Summer Of ’13 is buried beneath the sheen of production that sits uneasily on his shoulders.

There’s a danger throughout Marigold of looking too deeply into every lyric, and of searching for meaning in each song. Those who come to Pinegrove without knowing the backstory will find an album of pleasant alt-country that may not hit the heights of their back catalogue, but feels like a tentative step back to normality.

Disc 2 is a largely inessential collection of insipid dance remixes and the Massive Attack tracks. Disc 1 is a succinct summation of Thorn’s doleful, soulful voice and writing career that gives balm and bathos to those on the sidelines that, through their bruisings, let the brasher, flasher and more empty briefly succeed, but through doing so endure and become stronger in themselves.

His potential is audible, his aggressive performance on Name being a great example, but Errol is hopefully a stepping stone to a more actualised sound.

Josh T Pearson’s latest experiments have made for his most uneven record yet, but among the less characterful songs, there’s still some of that old miserable magic to relish within the directness of it all. The Straight Hits! may not be his finest, but maybe the purge was a necessary one.

At times, you yearn for the presence of a strong editor in the studio.

Abnormally Attracted To Sin turns out to be a collection of tracks that simply doesn't work as a whole because it can't properly be listened to in one go. Pity, for somewhere in amongst it all Tori proves that she's still capable of producing a storming album.

Perhaps it's the weight of expectancy that renders this a flawed if enjoyable effort.

This is at once an enjoyable effort and an opportunity missed.

Although long-term Dashboard fans will miss the more fragile moments, the new, big, epic sound is one that suits Carrabba.

There’s certainly nothing as immediately compelling as his collaboration with Fiona Apple, Left Handed Kisses. However, if you’re in the mood for a Sunday morning coffee and contemplation session, this is a perfect soundtrack.

It's a shame that Hynes' songwriting chops haven't developed as quickly as his musical skills. But this shouldn't put the brakes on Hynes' progress: Coastal Grooves might be a forgettable, minor work, but Hynes' career to date proves that he shouldn't be written off easily.

One hopes that the Austin band takes lessons from both the successes and failures of Fellow Travelers: taking risks here and there often pays off, but don’t mess with a vocal formula that works.

The old master may not be as abundantly creative as he once was but there’s life in the old fart yet.

What King Of The Mountains manages to achieve isn’t particularly new but there’s a fair amount of admirable craft going on that doesn’t come across as too robotic or synthetic. But it feels too safe, and lacks cohesion and structure.

The music is fun and easygoing, whether it’s the title track’s blissful 80s-style chords, or Make It Out Alive’s sparkling synth line, or the dizzying strings of Sweet Talker (a far better Galantis collaboration than Heartbreak Anthem with Little Mix). When the pace drops the results become more mixed, as Intimacy sports a clumsy riff under melodies that don’t gel while 20 Minutes is nice but forgettable.

It's certainly not a bad album, and pleasing enough while it plays, but it has no standout moment that demands further listening.

Archives will not compensate for the lack of new Department Of Eagles material. Indeed, it appears that the project will be on a long hiatus whilst Rossen is preoccupied by Grizzly Bear. Yet it does have merit as a fascinating document of a band veering out of its comfort zone, starting to make what had previously been the music of their dreams.

You could equally say the album was allowed to peak too soon, but either way let it take nothing from the fact that this is a refreshing and extremely promising debut effort.

The Fresh & Onlys’ most cohesive record yet, House Of Spirits doesn’t break any new ground or take any unexpected detours, but rather solidifies their position as the foremost new-wave revivalists around. Read more at http://www.musicomh.com/reviews/albums/fresh-onlys-house-spirits#cdqLV5AbrbDVF9DB.99

A brave experiment then, and more than likely a fabulous live experience too, but ultimately more of a novelty for the curious than an essential purchase.

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.

This album’s half-in-half-out approach is unsatisfying.

If you fancy a slightly off centre alternative to the mass appeal of more prominent electronic bands, despite a few wobbly bits here and there, then you won’t go far wrong with giving this latest collection a chance.

The end result is a pleasing, intimate experience by no means out of context with the rest of Gray's catalogue.

Armageddon is a sop to the disaffected fans of FFAF's pomp, and in seeking to recapture their ardour it tries too hard to pander to their needs. And from the few tracks that evidence what could have been, that's a shame.

Whether the record would have benefited from the band focusing more on fewer tracks is debatable, but Wicked Nature is in many ways a miniature triumph for an outfit written off by many as has-beens.

Supervision is at times frustrating – an avoidable misstep here, an overindulgence there. But it also contains some of La Roux’s best music to date, music that’s witty, danceable and endearing all in one.

With much to enjoy on this collection that has preceded their goodbye it would be music's loss if this were to once again genuinely signal the end of this quirky, characterful band.

Full of derision that the less talented one out of Oasis is going to be found out on his own? You won't be dissuaded.

Gulp suffers from the side-project lack of focus, but they have the capabilities to push their music to the edge on which they obviously live.

While it’s sometimes a bit too unassuming for its own good, King Of A Land does well to remind the world of just what a legendary songwriter Yusuf/Cat Stevens is.

It doesn’t quite always work, but it is a promising reinvention.

Though The Way is unlikely to attract many new fans, those who contributed to the project to make the album should be pretty happy with the results.

As it is, Hozier’s third album is a album that is simply a bit too sprawling. It’s certainly great in parts, and that voice never fails to impress, but it becomes a bit too bloated to listen to in full over time.

Gallagher has done a very competent job of producing the album by himself, but his High Flying Birds glide effortlessly at mid-altitude rather than aiming for the heights.

Into The Murky Water allows some of the band's earnest demeanour to shine through, but ultimately it lacks the spark of its predecessor and it's difficult to love.

He has talent, he's capable, and he's got a future - there are occasional flashes of creativity-stuffed aptitude - but this time around they're merely flashes.

By virtue of the last track sitting in such stark, depressive contrast to the rest, Spiera probably accidentally, but definitely effectively, makes you want to skip back to the start - an analogy for the underlying feelings he gives away over Beau Velasco.

It’s smoothly produced by veteran producer Tony Hoffer, and each track has a radio-friendly sheen to it and a catchy chorus. Which is all very nice, but it’s disappointing news for those of us who prefer Tunstall at her more experimental.

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.

There’s a lot to enjoy in Ambiguous Desire, an undeniably a splendidly crafted and blissfully atmospheric album. You just sometimes wish that Parks had leaned a bit further into the grit and chaos of the US club scene that inspired her.

With the singles and two other best songs placed at the front end, how does the second half fare? In direct comparison, poorly.

Odeon may lack two of the qualities that were so evident and satisfying on albums like Suzuki and No Hassle, namely their smooth consistency and unbroken flow.

It's another debut album laid low by ravages of hype.