Ghost Stories is overall a confessional and, as such, you definitely won’t find many anthems a la Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall or Viva La Vida. But you do get a short and sweet nine-track exorcism of demons and one crushed dude who knows how to pen some beautiful, infectious ballads.

It’s a well-produced record, even if Ufabulum is a better example of the new style put to good use.

Thorn's voice will always be a thing of undimmed charm and emotion, but the gulf between the music styles on display here, which flick from 70's disco, piano ballads and electro-pop seem like trying to keep a foot in both camps of the simpler days of her youth, and the ‘hip' dance crowd.

Entertainment, though, sounds tame by anyone's standards; and by eschewing their seedy, sweaty origins in favour of clean-cut pop, they've dumped those elements of their act which made them unique in the first place.

For the main part, The Life Of The World To Come is so familiar as The Mountain Goats that it seems rather lazy.

Not a bad effort, but we've come to expect more.

With Family Portrait Ross From Friends (or Dr Geller as he prefers to be called) confirms enviable production skills that were already displayed on hype-building 12” releases, but is missing some songwriting nous that would have lifted the album up and made it a more consistently engaging listen.

The confidence of a band that took over a year to record the album is notable, and theirs is an assured voice.

Splitting I Don’t Care Pt 1 and I Don’t Care Pt 2 into two separate tracks makes sense; one is jerky and aloof, the other stumbling and awkward, and they make nice companion pieces. But putting the two tracks either side of the aimless piano noodling of Hank’s Theme is a mis-step. That said, there are some excellent songs here, like the bristling, melodic Viper Fish, the frenetic Cracker Drool and the brash Country Sleaze.

Individ is certainly a challenging listen. The intricacy of the drumming and the choppy vocal style are both compelling components and together represent the key ingredients that will determine a listener’s attention span.

Pretty but inessential, God Help The Girl may make more sense when the film is finally delivered next year. Up until then this is largely of interest to Belle & Sebastian completists.

There is some magic to Mann's music and it's often hard to define.

It’s easy to appreciate and admire, but difficult to enjoy.

There is a great deal of music here that showcases Ahmed Gallab's musical dexterity and skills as an arranger, however it is slightly unsatisfying as a cohesive and lucid album.

Despite some excellent high points, Tasmania appears jumbled as a whole and there are too many tracks that just don’t hit the bullseye for it to be upheld as the best Pond have recorded.

There's a confidence obvious throughout that suggests Sparro will build on what is a strutting debut, even if at the moment he's a big voice with too many small songs to sing.

When it finds itself so hopelessly in thrall to lost love, the record can cross a line into mawkish self-pity, the classic pitfall of many a confessional breakup album, and its appeal can then wear thin.

Unfairly or otherwise, Lights will be consumed by many with the weight of expectation hanging heavy around it. For the most part, the strength of the songwriting should keep the doubters at bay.

The album, when taken as a whole, is simply too much. When taken as individual pieces, it works much better – and there’s simply no reason for it to be this long.

Phenomenal Handclap Band have created an extraordinary record, an accumulation of countless styles and eras of music that at times works impeccably. But too often it just a little too frenzied to adore.

My Old Familiar Friend seems to be an album with modest aspirations which, for the most part, it achieves.

It is not instantly recognisable as Groove Armada, but it shows how the pair have moved on from constant festival sets and gigs to managing farms in France, as Andy Cato now does. Clearly they still want to have a good time, but the stress is now on music that feels older than it does new.

If he can place more focus on songcraft, his tunes will soar majestically; but at the moment there's not a lot under the surface to make him anything other than intriguing.

All in all it’s a decidedly mixed bag, with producer Mark Ronson failing to make the experience even remotely coherent, though during this soundtrack’s highlights even the most committed Nolan fanboy might just get caught up in the hype.

At times this recording is compelling, entrancing even with its sheer beauty; occasionally though it drags.

The blues boogie tunes aren’t quite up to par, but it’s still a goody bag filled with enough treats to please fans.

Céu can still sit squarely in the middle of the road at times, particularly when she attempts English language pop songs.

It's Tesco shelf filler, it's Father's Day fodder, it's the stack of cover versions every lazy advertising executive is craving now that Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want is all played out.