Whilst it doesn’t always work, and the shorter tracks do little to add value, the atmosphere they generate is often spine tingling.

At times doubts can surface as to whether it can fully work but against not inconsiderable odds he ultimately manages to pull it off, delivering on the whole an impressively irregular album of Latin-inflected laptop folk.

Words are used minimally and to great effect.

Thanks in no small part to the significant contribution of Homme, the shirtless rocker has created his best work since his early Bowie collaborations.

Parastrophics is never dull, and there are some great moments on here. But occasionally it is a little too restless for its own good.

Logos doesn't displace Microcastle as Cox's masterwork to date. But it's an intriguing, often beautiful addition to a rapidly expanding body of work that has seemingly boundless potential.

Half of the album’s 12 tracks are under three minutes, leaving no time to get bored, and there’s little to dislike.

The sense of rhythmic looseness and American country lilt, showcased most obviously on My Rose Coloured Friend, coupled with Mulcahy’s lyrical sensibilities and questioning of his own troubles and existence, make for not a particularly life-changing but pleasing listening experience.

Sometimes, it doesn’t quite hit the mark – the finger-picked acoustics of Preaching To The Choir becomes a bit of a dirge, while Clean feels like it’s about to explode into something epic, but never quite does. Yet the closing The Wind makes for a lovely end to the album (with Butler on surprisingly gruff vocals) and, at only nine tracks long, it never particularly outstays its welcome. It’s also a handy reminder that one of rock’s finest collaborators has a pretty strong voice of his own, too.

A fine reintroduction to Jill Scott. It may not be as instantly genre-defining as that debut album proved to be, but it’s a record by an artist who sounds totally refreshed by her hiatus.

It probably won't appeal to all, and some of Furtado's fans may be hugely turned off by the more danceable tracks. Yet Timbaland has revitalized Furtado - this is the sound of an artist having the time of her life.

Despite a few too many lacklustre and inconsequential tracks, there are some incredible highs here and songs that will sound phenomenal when played live.

What's remarkable is how well it all works--no glitches, no hiccups, just 10 tracks of mind-broadening quirk.

While the highs aren’t quite as high and the lows are quite a bit lower than they have been previously in his career, Mala might just be the grown-up album Devendra Banhart has been waiting a decade to make.

In the end, the repeated invocation of booze, drugs and sugar betrays a semi-permanence, with Welcome The Worms feeling like more of a quick fix despite some effective catharsis, and it’s disappointing that a band held in high esteem for their live energy have yet to fully realise that on record. That doesn’t dull the album’s instant charm, however.

Emerging at the end, the listener has a real sense of having been immersed in something coherent and whole over the course of the 10 tracks; even if at the same time--dreamlike--there may well be no such clear sense of what it all might have meant.

Shiver may be a step out of Jónsi’s comfort zone, but it’s a step that seems to have reinvigorated him.

After remaining stagnant for so long, Concrete and Gold is a mini breakthrough for the Foo Fighters. Progress, at last.

Hexadic is most certainly a challenging and confusing album and one that can, at times, be a struggle to listen to. It is worth persevering however, for there are flashes of brilliance to be found in the constant battle between control and abandon.

As real big-bucks contenders, Kodaline aren’t quite there yet. But as a debut, In A Perfect World manages to find its feet with ease.

It’s a brutal, intense listen, and certainly won’t be for everyone, but those who care to take the journey will find many rewards.

Morrison does not have the same vocal power or raw intensity as a performer as he did when younger, but his voice has become deeper and richer in tone in later years. Roll with the Punches may show him playing it safe but there’s every sign that the prolific 72-year-old has plenty of more rounds left in him.

An album that could have easily come off as a millionaire’s vanity project with his rich mates is actually a surprising, creatively rich endeavour.

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

serpent has crafted a spatially attentive album centred around representation and reverence, inclusivity and acceptance.

A better way to appreciate the record isn’t in one beefy sitting, but rather in bitesize portions. Devour it slowly and you’ll be able to savour its flavour.

Tides stakes an admirable claim to being a first tentative step in building a more advanced, melodic palette.

Weller could easily be forgiven for just living off that immense back catalogue. Instead, he’s relishing that elder statesman role and striving forward. He may not be the angry young man of the past, but his fire is still burning bright.