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.

Peaches' overt and upfront sexuality was once refreshing, but it now feels a little relentless. Quite possibly, the novelty has worn off.

Other Worlds is a pleasant, but modest experience and, while an effort has been made to stamp every track with distinctive hints, the end result is an interesting but arguably undemanding work.

It’s a confused collection of songs, but there are enough gems here to suggest that they’ll come good soon enough.

Ultimately, Fiction have all the ingredients to work, but they don’t click together as much as they should on The Big Other.

Despite such misgivings [that the album runs out of steam and falls into pastiche territory] it's a decent enough record that deserves a follow-up.

These twelve tracks make for diverting and beguiling company for the fifty or so minutes spent with them.

An uncomplicated and perfectly pleasant record, swirling with some instantly intoxicating '60s inspired pop numbers, Lights Out finds itself running at the same, ultimately tedious pace for 12 songs.

While it may not be enough to garner any new fans, existing devotees will feel that the wait has been worth it.

There is a fine line between catchiness and tedium on Grassed Inn, and the formula doesn’t always work.

There are plenty of great moments, but at times, it is almost too experimental.

Even if you weren't expecting much from everyone's favourite four part harmony-peddling pension queue, this record would be something of a mixed bag.

An album that’s easy to enjoy yet difficult to fall in love with.

An unfettered sonic experiment from a commercially unconcerned duo, Clay Class, whilst often pushing itself successfully into unexplored melodic territory, feels unfinished, difficult and hesitant.

While Palma Violets have certainly got talent, their debut falls just short of the expectations that’s been ladled on it.

Daniel Lopatin’s eighth album as Oneohtrix Point Never finds him splitting the difference between the synth-based abstraction of his previous albums and a more visceral, abrasive style. While neither of these are bad templates to work from per se, the result is an album that doesn’t know what it wants to be.

The Black River Killer EP isn't the best place for Blitzen Trapper newbies to start--that would be Furr or Wild Mountain Nation. But, as a stopgap for existing fans, it's well worth a download or--if one's feeling old-fashioned--a trip to the music emporium.

Welcome Reality gets it half right--this is a decent debut which more than lives up to the hype, but is so mind-blowingly out-there that any suggestion that it resembles 'reality' ought to launch a Trading Standards investigation.

Whilst not engrossing for the entirety of its running, Many Moons is still a pleasurable listening experience. It takes a few listens to get to the lyrical gems, which can often be remarkably revelatory.

This album at its best can be genuinely explosive – see Holding Back with its booming trap beats and chipmunk-soul hook – but Banks’ central problem on Serpentina is how to channel emotion without straying into musical indulgence, and how to evoke situations without wallowing in them.

Gathered is very much an album that needs time and attention to allow its strengths be isolated and to surface. Long term Gelb fans will appreciate his continued work rate, the extension of musical themes and hints at his past but overall it may be too slight and unprepossessing for the casual, passing listener.

Ultimately the album is three or four songs too long, but Man Of The Woods is rarely less than entertaining. Too slick to be a genuine man of ‘rough’, Timberlake nevertheless continues to lead the way in his field, even if he does so without consistently reaching the greatness he so clearly strives for.

On a technical level, Wolf People are a competent outfit but, for all its repetition, it doesn’t leave much of a dent in the brain.

The only problem is, that like other Charly Bliss records, it sounds better in little chunks, rather than as a fully-fledged album. There are 12 tracks on Forever, and it’s undeniable that after a while, the songs begin to sound rather the same.

While Tedder can on occasion craft lyrics that strike the perfect balance between simplicity and grandiosity, he flounders a bit too often on Native.

Its experimentation is narrow, its mode virtually constant, yet given time there are shades, hues and tones to discover.

While this different feel to the album leaves some of the pacing feeling a little repetitive, there is no doubt that the talent shines through.

Divorced from the context of the North Korea shows the purpose of these songs seems a little unclear, even factoring in the wordplay of “How do you solve a problem like Korea”, so the final few tracks are crucial to the album.

The production drips with gloss, but unlike Acolyte, it’s a gloss that obscures rather than glimmers.

Hockey are not yet the finished article and are still finding their sound, but judging from Mind Chaos they're having a bloody laugh looking for it.

Long and short, it’s hit and miss.

Little here really pushes the boat out for Rhys, and some of his eccentricities seem to have been toned down in favour of a casual and restrained atmosphere.

The music's catchy, sure, and this time round it's undeniably uplifting in both tone and substance, but there's precious little about Night Train that's surprising enough to elevate it out of the realm of song-of-the-moment radio pop.

Overall, Tomorrow Morning is a good, but far from great, record.

This is what could be termed a healthy dose of parent-friendly hip hop, though now and again it threatens to spoil its reputation as it comes close to one of those dreadful ‘friend chip' adverts.

[Where We Go] is far and away the most interesting, listenable yet challenging, thing on this patchy and unfocussed album.

It has the feel of a transitional record; having proved to himself that it’s possible to pair up heartfelt songs with sometimes incongruous music, perhaps Lekman will hone this concept further in his future work.

It is a polished sound, one the band does very well. The musicianship is solid and the mixture of high-energy vocal performance with the instrumental post-rock passages is uplifting and at times enthralling.

All this amounts to, in the nicest possible way, is an album that sounds sleek, professional and (say it quietly) a little safe.

For the tale is only partially told here - which, when you compare The Most Incredible Thing perhaps unfavourably to the great ballets of the 19th or 20th centuries, is the one thing most obviously lacking. For now we should admire the abilities of Tennant and Lowe to move from structures of four minutes to those of an hour and a half, and hope this encourages them to continue in a form in which they have made a very listenable start.

Fans of David Sylvian will doubtless appreciate the elegant compositions and Sylvian's self-indulgent but soulful insights, but there is little to entertain the casual listener who may be better off back cataloguing Tom Waits and Nick Drake and realizing that they are not the same thing.

It doesn’t have the timeless quality of her classic material, but it’s good to have her back nonetheless.

La Liberación is not a new lease of life but perhaps a glimpse of one - if only in moments, if only in one track, there still seems to be enough to keep them going. And on those good bits alone, they're worth just one more chance.

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

If a handful of tracks from the first album had been replaced with the best tracks here then Marr would have produced one of the best guitar albums of the last decade, but taken on their own individual merits, neither quite achieve greatness.

If you're looking to buy this record on the back of Heartbeats you may be disappointed as it bears little resemblance to the Knife's current work.

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 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.

A tough collection to make friends with, Denies The Days Demise can infuriate and delight in equal measure, often on the same track.

They're still a band with huge potential that isn't yet being completely fulfilled. Kaleide might please die-hards but for the rest it lacks in progression and new ideas.

Evolution Theory is an album that has a base level thrill to its highlights but it is an ephemeral thrill that is fleeting on record, and there’s the sense that these songs will work best in the live environment where Modestep will excel.

Speculation aside, the music that Childs and Blake have produced here is gentle, unassuming and good humoured. It won't change the world, but it will warm the hearts of those fortunate enough to hear it.

If by representing these protest songs Ono intended to convey how little has changed since she first recorded them in the spirit of social activism then she has succeeded, but Warzone also highlights how the conversation has evolved.

Like any prospective chartbuster, it frontloads its biggest bangers and lets anything more interesting linger in the later stages of the record, when the more passive listeners have tuned out. But those forays are occasional at best, and as an artistic statement this debut album is somewhat limited.

It's a brave, sometimes successful, but ultimately flawed attempt to evolve and grow the band's sound. The one crime is a distinct lack of any memorable tunes, but it will certainly stand as one of 2010's more interesting releases.

Fittingly enjoyable but frustratingly retrograde effort.

It's certainly a promising debut, just one hampered by a songwriting scope that strips it of its own vitality rather than informing it.

No matter how classy, considered or stylish the album is, it’s nothing more than a curio, designed for those fans that hang on her every word.

Like Britney herself, Glory is a fascinating if flawed listen--while she remains very much a singles artist, this is her most successful record in a while, and still contains glimpses of why she remains so compelling, 18 years into her career.

Major Arcana is certainly not a perfect debut and does have some flaws, but it succeeds in establishing Speedy Ortiz as a band with promise and scope to build on.

Even with the missteps, there is plenty to love about The Wombats’ fourth effort.

The result of the flawless playing and polished production, however, is ultimately a too-perfect sound, lacking drama and grit. With his darkest years behind him, Wilson seems willing to use only the brightest colours in the paintbox.

New Chain is unmistakably chillwave, undeniably fashionable within the American music scene right now, but doesn't half make you yearn for a bit of sunshine.

The opening half sees him attempt something a little different with mixed results, the second half seems him return to more familiar ground with only moderate success.

For better or worse, Thievery is ultimately content to stick to the script, busting out another batch of worldly background noise perfect for a post-party VIP lounge in Ibiza.

By switching voices and languages, and throwing in string quartets alongside swooning electronica, he pushes different versions of reality, and while on the whole it slips into background noise, there are moments when Excerpts packs a punch. And there's plenty to capture a more vivid and patient imagination.

I Cry When I Laugh never really manages to become more than just a collection of singles.

Tangk is sadly, and far too often, a rather boring album by a band who can and should be doing much better.

For such an experimental band maybe they could have pushed these remixes further instead of into a no-man's land of accessible. For Battles, this is unchallenging territory.

To Kill A King here seem ultimately still to be wrestling with the problem of how to make several different ideas gel together. They are at their best when it feels as if they’re playing just to you and no one else; maybe a bit of scaling down would do them a lot of good.

Rihanna's appearance aside, Mylo Xyloto is everything you'd expect from a Coldplay album.

They peddle freeform sleepy jazz with hypnotic percussion you'll either want to lie in front of for hours or run from screaming.

For fans of "St Elsewhere" and general mash-ups of styles, The Odd Couple will contain a few splendid tracks, a few decent offerings, and a few duds.

Free Spirit is a patchy album from an artist who is perfectly capable of delivering nifty falsetto lines and smooth come-ons, but who is also far too predisposed to sloppy downtempo numbers.

Those seeking a new fix of good ol’ rock ‘n’ roll from the ‘70s need look no further, as Howlin Rain provide an ample return of sorts to that era.

A passable release that’s half what you’d want and half what you’d rather forget from a Guided By Voices album.

Heterosexuality is in many ways bold, both stylistically and in terms of message, but what goes missing in its weaker moments is akin to the ghost in the machine: that compositional spark which would elevate the record beyond the sum of its parts.

All of this makes Metallic Spheres warm and fluffy, nowhere near as cold as its name suggests, but ultimately it's worth little more than a warm smile, bringing together the favourite comedown musician of the late '80s/early '90s with the stoners' favourite of the decade before, but not really doing anything with the opportunity.

His debut album (a previous finished collection was never released) skates dangerously close to self indulgent pastiche yet contains some immaculately played gems that possess the definitive crackle of old school analogue tape sessions.

Broken By Desire To Be Heavenly Sent generally plays it safe, assuming the schtick that’s got Capaldi this far has more mileage in it, which gives the album a competent, workmanlike air.

The album itself--whilst impressive in its seamless cohesion--does become rather formulaic in Birdy's treatment of the covers, and therefore suffers from a distinct lack of variety.

Snow Globe, for all its charm, isn’t the record to re-instate their importance. Instead, it feels destined to languish in the oeuvre of vaguely interesting ‘alternative’ Christmas albums.

$O$ is mostly forgettable, not working as either a comedy piece or as actual, you know, music

This is a fairly straightforward rock record, to some degree, and its simplicity takes away from those moments in which Hukkelberg thrives.

The loud, distorted, lo-fi West Coast tone dominates the album, and this is the terrority where Goldstein performs most engagingly. Where he attempts a more stripped-down approach (on Fall, or the ukelele-led title track) the results are less successful.

SCUM is rarely subtle and its relentless pace can become a little bit much at times. Yet there’s enough promise here to suggest that with more development and quality control, Ratboy could grow into an artist of significant stature.

There are possibilities of ideas, tunes and textures yearning to communicate here, but the paper-thin construction doesn’t stand up to much scrutiny. Yet ultimately, experimenting with instrumentation and the pair’s (albeit limited) vocals do occasionally make for a pleasant, if not completely engaging, listen.

There is much potential here--Arthur clearly has far more to offer music than the Marcus Collins‘ of this world--yet it feels frustratingly undeveloped.

In Too Much Information, they’ve made easily the most interesting and eclectic album of their career--they just didn’t quite include enough of those heartwarming hooks to make it their best.

Once the irritatingly catchy melodies have passed through a love/hate relationship though, to the point where they may start to annoy, there is sadly not enough left to warrant a long lifespan for Youth.

Put this album on in the background and the chances are it will create a nice chilled atmosphere; but that's it, really. And that's disappointing. There's no denying that Eskmo's construction methods are intriguing, but it lacks coherence.

Indifferent, but an essential listen, even if just for the brilliant finale.

This is a dreamier affair, lighter than air music that floats along like a wispy breeze; unfortunately, last year’s effort seems to have set a standard which has clearly proven difficult to recreate.

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.

Overall there’s a risk it may ultimately prove too personal and introspective a listen for some.

While this isn't the daring brave leap forward that was whispered about when Spiralling was released, it will no doubt prove another multi-million seller for the trio from Battle.

Billed as the spiritual successor to 2017’s Flying Microtonal Banana, sadly a lot of this new record feels like exactly that, the musical equivalent of the yellowy orange filter Hollywood tends to put on films and TV shows to indicate that it’s the Middle East. Yet as flippant as that may sound, there are still some flashes of innovation.

Aitch clearly approached this record wanting to prove his staying power, and while he delivers some quality verses (and roughly an EP worth of great music) the fog of compromise hangs that bit too heavily.