Encylopedia is an album that will be either loved or hated; there is little in-between as the narrow line separating catchiness from irritation shrinks to a hair’s width.

Half remembered, half acknowledged, half understood, it is, in short, very subtly brilliant.

The Open Door is an exercise in how not to make a sophomore album (or any album for that matter).

It's not what you'd call pretty, exactly, but there's a hell of a lot of charm and admirable grit to Young's decision to say bollocks to politeness and tell it like it is.

Rather than offering reinterpretation, Malin sounds like an annoying guest at a house party, who despite all efforts to hide the guitar has found it and insists on playing a disparate bunch of songs much to the annoyance of everyone else, none of whom quite have the heart to tell him to stop.

The standard of the songs never rises above the mildly pleasant, and occasionally - as on the self-consciously 'widescreen' title track or the wetter-than-a-fish's-wet-bits Mother Nature Goes To Heaven - it's pat and drab.

But for all its shortcomings, Bricolage is at least well intentioned and definitely well executed--frenetic, tightly instrumented, and performed with aplomb.

This whole album holds together in a way that their debut didn't. It's a bold step forward that commands respect and suggests that they may have some longevity.

Burn Your Town makes a refreshing change from your average debut indie LP for a couple of primary reasons. Firstly, it's showcasing a band who, rather than going down the easy route, actually care a lot more about first impressions than most of their contemporaries. Secondly, it hints that they could grow and mature nicely.

Goldberg, though, ought not to be penalised for his occasional switch of stance and self-leniency: this is an album that may not grace millions of record collections, but may well enjoy classic status in those that it does.

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.

While not as flawed and over-ambitious as London Undersound or Human, the feeling persists that this is an artist who would benefit from calling a halt to all the grand projects for a while and going back to basics.

It is to be hoped that they will continue to make relevant urban commentaries as they have done prior to this brave but largely disappointing record.

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.

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.

It's certainly fresh but, lamentably, it fails to rival the progression seen on previous releases that grabbed the listener's attention.

Odeon may lack two of the qualities that were so evident and satisfying on albums like Suzuki and No Hassle, namely their smooth consistency and unbroken flow.

It may not rock your world but, against all the odds, The Conversation presents a Texas which you can imagine falling a little bit in love with.

The Orb’s lazy beats count too much on Perry’s meaningless, abstract ruminations, or Perryisms, to add some sort of absurdist (anti-) meaning to a (mostly) boring collection of songs.

Amazingly, 14 years since their last studio album, the clock has been turned back and Big Country have produced an album on a par with some of their earlier work, probably surpassing 1988’s Peace In Our Time.

A functional album it may be but Closer To The Truth does nothing to puncture the illusions which so many love about Cher and that, ultimately, may be the best anyone can expect at this point.

Overall, No Romeo does a good job of laying down some promising foundations and confirming what Solo Dancing had already suggested--that Indiana is far more interesting than most of the uninspiring pop artists dominating the charts at the moment. Where the album suffers is in its baggy running time and lack of standout tracks to match her most recent singles.

Even if their musical influences are still heavily apparent, at least Little Victories shows the band writing all their own songs with growing assurance.

It’s a credit to Hurts for stepping outside their comfort zone and aiming high, but the end product feels as though it was rather a struggle. Possibly to gain more exposure, they’ve made what they hope is a radio friendly record, but which all but obliterates that which won them fans in the first place.

Although it will sound perfect in the arenas of the land this summer, for those of us who were blown away by early tracks like Budapest and Cassy O, there’s a lot on this follow-up that plays a bit too safe.

As a debut album it goes over well, with a convincing display of versatility and quality songwriting that firmly establishes Mabel as a force to be reckoned with in UK pop.

They will remain a formidable live proposition, but Maximo Park's third album has to go down as a disappointment--especially given the band's previous high standards.

What makes this charged debut such a powerful statement is its impeccable flow. From the moment Devil In Me swaggers in like a Molotov cocktail, you know this is going to rock - hard.