It may not have the instant appeal of To Lose A Life, but the combination of the running narrative and a host of memorable hooks make it their most consistent record to date.

Snark aside, it's a shame that aside from a couple of notable exceptions, the album title is just about right.

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

Pretty, but ultimately uneven record.

It's this flitting between moments of brilliance and sections of dainty sounding but ultimately rather tedious meandering that defines the album.

With the recent break up of Girls, there is certainly an opportunity for Jaill to take the mantle of derivative, vintage pop rock, but they are not quite there yet.

Their seeming insanity only adds to the magic.

Despite the clear-cut influences, Airbourne sound like they just want to rock and have fun in the process of making music to play live. Like Motorhead, this is a band that should be seen in all its headbangin', hair raisin' glory to be fully appreciated.

Vicissitude is such a wispy, bloodless record that it’s hard to find anything to recommend about it.

Jaws have created an album that should see them breaking away from B-Town, heading for sunnier climes and finding themselves.

Kubrick is an ambitious project, but one that works just perfectly as a showcase for the wonderful songwriting and compositional skills of Machin and Glover. It proves, as if it were ever in doubt, that their strength lies not in the skills of their collaborators, but in their music and ideas.

As good as it occasionally gets on I Hear You, the continuously tuneless wail of the vocals are likely to be where the record either succeeds or fails, depending on how much emphasis the listener puts on the vocal element and whether or not they can see past the often painful experience. If only Mr Birdsong had been given lead vocal duties instead.

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.

Ultimately, Blue Film is a decent, enjoyable album that hints at Hemerlein’s undoubted talent whilst never pulling up too many trees.

In buying in so emphatically into a US pop/soul template, Stone has effectively erased what made her so intriguing in the first place.

Pretty, simple songs which nevertheless were absolutely littered with hooks.

His verses mostly feel redundant, hastily thrown together to validate the presence of these songs on his project, and while the album has been described as introspective this very brief release only allows for skindeep thoughts on any one topic. The Kanye West show has already rolled on, but some of the magic of yesteryear has been left behind.

There’s obviously still an audience for Muse, given by the size of the venues they still sell out, and this will definitely please the die-hards, but most of Simulation Theory simply fizzles out without leaving much of an impression.

All things considered, Hamilton needs to focus less on blending parts together, and more on growing his own food from scratch.

Many of these songs are a delight to listen to; most could easily be a single.

This record feels like half reboot and half memoir. She goes out of her way to acknowledge the fact she’s not a teenager anymore, but with a gentle defiance, a little nostalgia and a subtle change in direction that makes Golden both touching but also really good fun.

It is delicately shaded and tells us more of her hopes, dreams, fears and feelings than any interview ever could. It is this direct communication with her listeners, coupled with the strongest of loyalties to her underground heritage, that makes her music as strong as it is.

This album is too much of a mess to be seen as a worthy follow-up to such a great debut.

Plenty of time is wasted on auto tune, to the detriment of almost all the album's vocals.

It features roughly one good tune to every two mediocre ones.

McGuinness is having a fantastic time on this album, but the try-too-hard attempts at shock value and relatively derivative riffs occasionally detract from what is an otherwise fantastic recontextualization of British alternative rock into older trends.

Gardens & Villa, though, is an album that casts light on its creators' vices as much as their virtues, and, for all the honesty that implies, remains a drawn-out suggestion that the band ought one day to generate a long player more worthy of their principles. Still, not bad for a first go.

At 46 minutes, Recurring Dream isn’t an especially long album. But on the wrong day, at the wrong time and in the wrong frame of mind, it can feel like the longest 46 minutes in the history of all time.