It all makes for a captivating listen or a dreamy forty minutes, whatever your preference - though a possible failing can be found in only occasional glimpses of the human soul.

Just as André 3000 isn’t as good at singing, acting or guitar playing as he is at rapping, he also isn’t as good at playing wind instruments, going some way to justify the disappointed reaction to this record’s announcement. That being said, the fun he’s having through experimentation is undoubtedly infectious, and at various points the musical ensemble create such an otherworldly vibe that one forgets the main artist is famous for something very different.

At times feels too regimented, leaving you wishing that he would just relax a little and drop the self-consciousness that gets carried along through the tracks.

Overall however, listening to Saltwater you realise that, while the album contains nothing seriously off-putting, you grow tired of Brazos’ style when listening to it.

There are certainly some nice tunes here though it's doubtful if Underground buskers will be swapping them for the likes of Wonderwall and Don't Look Back In Anger in their Christmas run-up repertoire.

Some moments here do veer into the more predictable end of indie-rock territory.

It's a disappointment that their live energy hasn't been replicated on Rise Ye Sunken Ships.

Yes, Love Undercover does sound a bit different from The Coral’s material, with a more soul and R&B influence, not to mention Merseybeat, but there is nothing particularly distinctive in the music.

One man's pop is another man's weirdness. And weird, The Third Hand certainly is.

In common with a fair amount of Little Dragon’s previous output though, New Me, Same Us seems to work better in small chunks than as an album as a whole. There’s something about the smooth, glossy sound that means that, after a while, each song seems to merge into one.

Nothing on 24 Karat Gold comes close to classic Fleetwood Mac songs, but long-term fans will delight in hearing decently recorded versions of tracks that they may otherwise only have heard as scratchy demos.

It’s a clear attempt to deliver a more mature, varied work than Nothing Great About Britain, and in that it succeeds. But considering his lofty aspirations, there’s nothing here that others rappers like Dave or Akala – both blessed with greater emotional intelligence, intellectual gravitas and grasp of social and political issues – haven’t done better.

Real Emotional Trash fails--beautifully and melodically, yes, but it fails nonetheless.

It’s an undeniably pleasant background to a warm summer’s day. But, like the output of many of the chillwave notables it resembles, once Headroom has finished playing, precious few details remain lodged in the brain.

It’s that smoothing of Ditto’s edges that prevents Fake Sugar from moving from a good, perfectly serviceable pop album to something truly great.

Overall this disc is a well-made breeze of strong songs and great playing, but the moments of fence-sitting hold it back.

Brian Eno famously stated that "ambient music must be as ignorable as it is interesting". The problem is that, whilst Regional Surrealism certainly succeeds in providing a pleasant musical backdrop, it is rather more the former than it is the latter.

It has some great moments but is probably one to listen to when you want to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

While a few of its tracks are below par, The Constant is a decent first effort. It doesn't put her head and shoulders above the many other female singer-songwriters kicking around at the moment, but it definitely sets her apart from them.

Too often, the same formula appears with uninspiring choruses being too frequent; whilst these short, sharp bursts of fuzzy punk sound great in small doses, this collection will probably find itself confined to the shelf before long, as its longevity may be questionable with little poppy catchiness present.

It will obviously appeal to most long-term Keane fans (even without Rice-Oxley’s trademark tinkly piano chords) but anyone who’s gone through a bit of a tough time in their lives will find this to be comforting succour.

It’s a heavy, lugubrious listen in places but is also the sound of an artist pursuing their art with integrity and investing themselves fully, showing that, while adversity can at times feel all encompassing, there are ways to overcome and find resolution.

A real mixed bag, then--M83 still show plenty of guile and in their best moments present music of hidden power and grace.

No new ground broken. No glo-stick/daft haircut stabs at credibility. Some old haunts revisited. Shameless? Perhaps. Anyone else doing a similar musical pot pourri to such goofed-out, quality chill? No. as the good Dr described it, this is simply a follow-on from their biggest album UFOrb, which was a timeless classic.

Perhaps it's a problem with sequencing, as no doubt some of the acoustically driven material that The Vines compose is glorious, but it always sits difficultly alongside the heavier, angrier stuff that they are better at writing, and more at home playing. It's a problem that has manifested itself on every album, and is more than evident on Melodia.

For one of Black Mountain’s principal strengths is that they don’t just create rock music, they use a lot of different styles alongside it, complementing and contrasting. Unfortunately on IV they lose their essential focus, giving us plenty of style but rather less content.

Maybe it’s the heartache documented in these songs, but there’s an oddly listless quality to some of the album. ... However, some of the charm of those early songs is replicated.

It's good to see this album released, but whether the meeting between Costello and Toussaint has produced anything of greater note that their individual achievements, I'm not convinced.

There are mixed results as some tracks on Something Else feel like the band are going through the motions, while others flow with more energy.

It’s nice enough. That’s the problem with Snake Oil, though: the highest bar the music reaches is being decent, and the loftiest ambition of these songs is to be simply tolerated, packed in amongst other unremarkable tunes on an Apple Music playlist called ‘Tuesday Vibes’ or something similar.

These People is a mixture of epic ballads harking back to the sound of the Verve and attempts to move forward with rather half-hearted electronic pop. Despite some beautiful moments, Ashcroft seems to have fallen into the gap between the two.

Mars has quite remarkably extracted themes from every one of those shows [The X-Factor], incorporating each into his debut, from glossy, over-sentimental ballads (Talking To The Moon) to an all-out, shameless dispatching of joy (Marry Song).

No longer the challenging, lo-fi music of yore, what has arrived in its place doesn't have the individuality or character to sustain longer lasting interest.

Unfortunately, Acoustic Dust suffers from the age old problem that acoustic albums generally face--lack of variation.

They’ve had their day doing one thing, they now need to do another, and while further albums are even less likely than this one, Happiness Not Included feels like something of a missed opportunity.

The heart-thumping energy of their first records is not in evidence, and Given To The Wild feels like a wasted opportunity.

[Cellist Alexandra Lawn's] expressive and engaging vocal contribution on You And I Know--along with its woozy, waltzy rhythms and shoegazey guitars--make this the only truly memorable song to be found on this otherwise disappointingly, frustratingly ephemeral collection.

Yet for all the individual moments of sleek electronic beauty, Goddess as a whole often sounds frustratingly unconvincing and almost fragmented in its production.

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

The rest of the 13 track album sounds like a mix of Latvian Eurovision Song Contest entries and The X-Factor winners' songs; an unmistakable, cringey 'life affirming' theme runs throughout, with the obligatory twinkling electro loops.

For now, though, Dark Young Hearts can perhaps best be considered a troubling, worthy yet ultimately unloveable misfire.

Justin Vernon has succumbed to his most inane impulses – and released a selection of unseasoned, lightly scented pleasantries that neither hit or miss. They just are.

There are standout moments of beauty in the sound they make--usually when pausing to gaze upon the full sun--but these reveries are the exception rather than the rule, and just as the listener is absorbing them, along comes a guitar to wrench them away.

It is an accomplished pop album but one that struggles to make any sort of lasting impression.

Work is by no means a bad album; it's just a disappointing one. For all their early promise, the band have made a record that reflects its title and monochrome artwork all too literally.

Those that prefer a little excitement would probably be best giving the album a miss and checking out the début instead; in all honesty, you’re more likely to find more thrills at one of your ‘old late great great great great great’ grandmother’s knitting and sewing evenings.

There are occasional moments of brilliance to be found of Flash Flood, often within the carefully crafted melodies of Enter Shikari's choruses, but all too often their lyrical angles and their almost pathological need to force genres together make for an uneven album.

X is more filler than killer.

If the world wants to point at the band's best album it's easily Planet of Ice, but if we're in the business of recognizing a group's ethos, Omni stands as the prime example of what Minus The Bear want to achieve.

Tinashe draws on her R&B influences to greater effect with the sensual, Dilemma-sampling Ooh La La, and No Contest is another highlight, but overall Joyride does not deliver on its potential.

From Here To Now To You isn’t going to propel Johnson to dizzying new heights--commercially or critically--but it’ll keep fans listening.

It seems that the first principles that got Aeroplane their quality remixes--a real sense of atmosphere, and slow disco-house beats that might be regarded as 'cosmic' in some circles--are only fleetingly glimpsed. Deluca has proved that he can comfortably write in a number of different styles of music--but on the next record it might work better to stick to the ones he has truly mastered.

The problem with Birthmarks is twofold: a lack of originality and a lack of hooks.

Positions is a perfectly fine light pop/RnB album by the numbers, but Grande’s relentless work ethic over the last few years means that the shine on her songs is starting to dull a bit.

Too often though these stabs at versatility end up as clichéd impersonations.

This is a worthwhile purchase for any David Gray fans, but for everyone else the world just keeps on turning.

Although The Brink does sound more assured and accomplished than their debut, The Jezabels’ return poses a number of problems, the most central of which being that it is just far too pedestrian.

A more radical shift in that direction might prove fruitful, but sadly The Don Of Diamond Dreams feels like aimless indulgence from a group that are capable of much better.

The end result is a record that frustrates more often than it thrills. In other words, it is essentially the same again.

Despite Kiss Land being The Weeknd’s major label debut release, what was once a breath of fresh air now sounds rather played out.

The pedigree of the singles can't be disputed, and they both hit the bullseye--the trouble being that the nine tracks that follow are too often found on the outer reaches of the board.

None of it stops you longing after the energy and charm of their debut.

Push And Shove is a decent, solid pop album, but it lacks the sense of occasion and excitement that you'd expect from a band's first album in 12 years.

They have made a patchy record that’s very much intended for loyal followers who have completely bought into their long established aesthetic.

Their third outing has ironed out the kooks and cracks that made them so endearing.

Newcomers to Justice will find A Cross the Universe only an occasionally endorphin-boosting experience, with most of the rest of the record a polished, if soulless recording of a group nearing the height of its powers.

There’s nothing essentially wrong with Evolution, but it just sounds like it’s mostly been written on auto-pilot. It’s always nice to have a musician of Crow’s calibre still active, but Evolution feels more like an inessential addition to her canon, rather than the glorious comeback it was no doubt intended to be.

Trouble is, the arrangements on Head Up High are low-key to the point of nothingness.

Some thrills and spills, then--like West Ham--and the first fifteen minutes are as good as you could hope for from a band coming back to life after an extended period on the sidelines.

Silent Treatment is an album that is certainly bursting with ambition, but that ambition seems at this point in time to be to the detriment of the songs.

Musically there is little to remember, lyrically some of this is challenging to forget. For a 19-year wait, this is a mild payoff indeed.

The Fat Whites’ second album is, then, something of a mixed bag, but the most offensive thing about it is not the lyrical content, it’s the fact that the band doesn’t seem to have the courage of its convictions and say what it means in an intelligible manner. Their edge has been knocked off in a cloud of reverb.

One can't escape the feeling that, for a writer and performer of Banhart's undoubted talents, this album sees him rather treading water, and failing to match the originality of his persona with correspondingly original or engaging material.

There are too many tracks on here that seem unfinished in a way, content to noodle around for far too long without making too much of an impression.

A Hundred Million Suns isn't a bad album - in fact, in parts, it's rather good. It's just that to find those good parts, you have to wade through acres of very average filler.

Burial is the most important influence across Civic Jams, but while his productions, his songwriting, his structures carry a real emotional heft, Darkstar sound for the most part as if they’re playing for time.

There are numerous disparate elements at play, reflecting the different backgrounds of the contributors, and while sometimes it all comes together beautifully, at others it feels either strangely flat or rather a chaotic, over-egged mess, with the clash of influences jarring rather than blooming.

Fortunately, there are a handful of songs here to be able to do that [listen and enjoy], if only fleetingly and not particularly in the original Hurricane #1 mould; for most of us though, we’re just happy to still have him around.

A record which stares back at you with the appeal of an ex you'd rather not have bumped into.

Moonfire is a perfectly nice album, one that would provide a suitable soundtrack to a warm, summer evening. However, if you're looking for something to captivate and engage you, then look elsewhere.

On record it's just a little flat because it's all about energy and despite occasional flourishes, the songs are a bit underwhelming.

What is surely one of the year’s most frustrating releases.

A missed opportunity, then, but also perhaps the beginnings of a creative resurgence.

As a complete album [it] lacks any depth or cogency.

Though it's commendable to stick with one set of producers to give a sense of cohesion, Memoirs could have done with some variation.

Unshowy, slowly revealing its pleasures, this is subtle, and clever, but rather too downplayed for its own good.

An album that is wide-eyed in its sincerity, unafraid of sentimentality, for better or worse. The political message is familiar, and will never grow old. The means of expression, however, can become a little too routine.

It's hard to deny the fresh, eclectic sounds of Walls or the sheer beauty in the closing sounds of Volcano, but overall, if this is any indication, Danger Mouse's productions are losing their novelty, and Beck remains at an uneven point in his career.

It too often sounds like a diluted version of what’s gone before, a collection that struggles to reach the highs of old.

With only five tracks and little in the way of audible lyrics or melody, understandably As Light Return tends to blend into one rather murky whole. That said, after repeated listens, individual song strengths do gradually emerge.

Ultimately, Chaos And The Calm is a solid, if unspectacular, first effort from Bay.

For someone who has a lot to say and is such a unique figure in music, it's a disappointment that Light isn't as captivating as it should be.

As a whole, Glassheart is listenable, with a few ups and downs in terms of the quality of the tracks, but does tend to keep to a very steady keel of mediocrity without much deviation.

While the closing tracks have some flashes of interest, they repeatedly fall into the same saccharine McCartney-esque cliches, making the last chapter of the album as unremarkable as the first.

Too often on The Darker The Shadow The Brighter The Light you find yourself reaching for the earlier albums to listen to instead. While Skinner’s hardcore fans will be pleased to see him back, much of the time this feels a lot like The Streets on autopilot.

This collection of tracks lacks that vibrancy and spark needed to linger long in the memory. There are a few sunny moments here and there but ultimately it's disappointingly flat.

All too often, overly simplistic melodies meander repetitively as Moffat struggles mightily to stay on key.

Martyn has an incredible musical heritage and series of works in his past, and it’s a shame that The Air Between Words simply is not as interesting nor as rewarding.