It's a frustrating listen, ultimately. There's enough promise here to suggest a band full of potential, but you get the feeling that they won't be breaking out of that cult status anytime soon.

Be that as it may, it is the band's recent failure to effectively collaborate, and for these 11 tracks to properly mesh, that has fostered the mediocrity inherent in A New Tide.

The wry humour on display even extends to the setlist, with 'I Tried To Leave You' being the first song of the encore. It's little touches like that which make Live In London both the perfect souvenir for those who were there on the night and also a handy introduction to one of the true living legends of the music industry.

Listening to Rules is a surprisingly boring experience. At several instances throughout this album you wish someone would let rip with a guitar solo, fire off a rave horn or just do something to liven up proceedings.

Labyrinthes is a jubilant album of experimental indie pop that hold ups to the scrutiny of constant plays. You may not have an idea of what's being sung, but it's a great album which easily transcends the language barrier.

While it might be criticised for not having some of the mystery characterising previous albums, Lost Channels is a blissful yet haunting record.

Big production bombast in the latter half of the record--especially on 'Africa,' the English-language 'I Follow You' and the title track--could happily be skipped over, but there's at least half a record here that's as indispensible as it is likeable.

This is an odd gem of a record that should be cherished in a class of its own.

Grace/Wastelands is Doherty scrubbed up, older and wiser and showing signs of regret for the past. It is a great album but then, so have they all been.

Minor grumbles aside, Bromst is a thrilling, hyperactive album that runs from calm and composed to frantic and frazzled, usually within the space of an intro.

The result is both classic Decemberists--all folk pop whimsy wrapped up in darker lyrics than their surface suggests--and a new direction, using the '60s/early '70s folk foundations to follow their logical path into that odd corner of the English genre that somehow crossed over with Heavy Metal.

Anyone with even a passing interest in Royksopp--whose ears have been pricked by an Eple or Poor Leno--could do far worse than immerse themselves in one of 2009's greatest releases.

Crack The Skye is a monolithic achievement from a band that never compromises in terms of vision or style. It's easily the best metal album of the last 10 years.

1990s have not made a bad album, but like the decade itself Kicks never lives up to its promise and contains too many derivative and unmemorable moments.

As an homage to bands that paved the way, though, Fuckbook succeeds.

Most of the songs are well constructed and do not outstay their welcome, though a few do not make the grade.

It's all surface no feeling.

Their debut is never a dull listen, and boasts enough creativity and considered intelligence about it to set Grammatics apart from their indie contemporaries who are young pretenders by comparison.

To Lose My Life is an album made to a predefined plan with skill and no heart.

While this means that all is not lost (or perhaps more accurately, saved), it does leave the listener with a sense that he's not sure whether he wants to embrace a new direction or not, resulting in an album that is somewhat disjointed and ultimately unfulfilling.

The next obstacle for Wavves will be deciding whether to ditch the bedroom and work in an actual studio, but for now these lo-fi pop gems are more than enough to be getting on with.

All in all, passably decent party music, but lacking in the divine touch its title might imply.

For most of its lengthy running time, though, Easy Come, Easy Go is terrific.

This album, though at times an obscure experience to the untrained ear, is at other times Royksopp-like, though never to the point of radio friendliness.

While there are resemblances Spiritualized, what should be a slow burning record, white hot in its intensity, is laid to rest sounding rather limp and uninspired.

Just when you think the album is sinking into mediocrity, Borrell and company respond with two of the best tracks they have ever put their names to.

This is a startling new direction, and while not entirely successful, it confirms Cornell as a vocalist of versatility and strength.

As a product that needs to sell it fits the bill perfectly - there are at least five potential top ten singles here--but as an album, the whole thing feels precision tooled, vacuum-packed and strangely lifeless.