For the most part, this is a fizzing, fuzzing album that manages to sound both younger and older than the band that produced it.

As a rather short album, it impresses without feeling like a definitive statement from the group, but contains enough interesting ideas and beautiful moments, as well as a great demonstration of both experimentation and pop-sensibilities in equal measures, that it leaves one excited and intrigued about what Teengirl Fantasy might make in the future.

There is a hidden depth to much of 2 which belies the outwardly bright nature of many of the songs and the cheesily trad imagery.

If Moves shows anything it is that maturity coupled with the cold UK winter months have their compensations.

Schneider TM invites the listener to project their own meanings and sense on these intrusive sounds made beautiful.

Dig deeper and you'll find that Goat has managed to create not just a world of their own, but an album that draws on influences from all over the world.

A moody yet romantic triumph, The Defenestration Of Saint Martin is far better than anyone could hope to expect from a long-dormant Britpop survivor.

The steady pace of mid-tempo tracks might deter some listeners; although there are tinges of mischief, a sudden shift in pace would certainty elevate the listen.

The only caveat with the music of iamamiwhoami is that there is now a lot of R&B influenced electronic pop music around, increasingly from Scandinavia, and it seems to be the 'go to' sound of left of centre pop music in the middle of 2012. The good news for the duo, however, is that their particular take on it puts them right near the front of a crowded field.

His major label debut good kid m.A.A.d city solidifies his burgeoning reputation and stands out as a landmark contemporary hip-hop album.

Greenwood has recorded an eerie yet stunning score, and if Anderson's production is just as aspiring then filmgoers are in for a real treat for the senses.

Half-baked lyrics detract from intelligent and well-executed backing, and as such the album fails to resonate with any of the force that it attempts to muster, despite the odd successful moment.

In this globalised but fragmented world, now so obsessed with immediacy, rapidity and digestibility, Ten Freedom Summers is a visionary work of protest and power.

Perhaps the global impact of the massive Call Me Maybe is what makes the album as a whole feel like a damp squib, but with or without US Marine parody videos, the rest of the album fizzles out into synth-pop oblivion.

For the most part, however, The Female Boss is a cynical and dire product which invites the riposte: Tulisa, you're fired.

The album may start well, but there is very little on the record that will last long in the memory.

Few could deny her vocal talents but you can't help but feel the character that made her stand out in a crowded pop room has been diluted somewhere along the line.

Although there are some memorable moments here, none of them come close to tracks such as Mars or The Dozens.

A continually evolving amalgam of influences and sonic oddities, it slowly creeps into the subconscious, unsettling and calming as it works its magic.

Winterval is intermittently graceful yet often slight and inconsequential: an enigmatic album that is unlikely to linger in the memory for long.

As an exercise in not-so-subtle re-positioning the album is never less than effective and its high-points are more interesting and persuasive than most of JLS' peers.

Aside from its undertone of paranoid desperation, however, the album is a largely by-the-numbers exercise and seems almost certain to quickly fall off the public consciousness.

Whereas Walker seemed to grasp something on that album [The Drift], here he seems restless and inconsistent, but his continuing artistic quest remains peerless and fascinating.

This is music that originates from the soul, but it is delivered in an entirely soulless fashion.

For anyone yet to be acquainted with the music of the Jazz Age, this is the perfect introduction to the sound of the era. That Ferry's music can be so interpreted, and carried off so convincingly, suggests strength in depth to his canon of work.

Anyone unacquainted would be better off buying the original album, enjoying the aural experience of one of Mogwai's best for years and then revisiting what is essentially an add on, albeit one which builds on an impressive base and is an involving and exciting listen in its own right.

For someone skilled at making music both accessible and disarming--a talent she displays so seldom on Pale Fire--Assbring has sacrificed the ability to send such a message for the ultimately unrewarding spoils of electronic production.

When it comes down to it, the second part of Green Day's trilogy of albums is another crushing disappointment.