Harlow deserves credit for veering away from commercial expectations, pursuing a fresh sound, and keeping things short and sweet. But praising an artist for limiting the runtime of a relatively mediocre album is no huge compliment. ‘Monica’ is an easy listen, something jazzy and inoffensive to put on in the background.

Some contributors slip seamlessly into her world, amplifying her playful spirit, while others feel more like drive-by cameos, impressive in name but disconnected in vibe. The result is a sonic joyride through the world of dance that dazzles in flashes, even if it never quite eclipses the original.

Unfortunately, by making snapshot songs, he’s created a scattershot album. ‘Piss In The Wind’ plants plentiful seeds for Joji’s next direction – now, he just needs to let the good ideas grow.

The band once again remain loyal to their signature blend of chugging riffs, angst-fuelled vocals, and enough shreddy-guitar solos to make your head spin. This is an unwavering commitment that remains throughout, and ultimately becomes both the record’s main redeeming feature and its biggest downfall.

An album to be remembered for? Probably not, but it’s bold, it’s a laugh, and he’s done it his way.

‘What Happened To The Streets?’ doesn’t musically reinvent trap the way its more cinematic predecessors did, but the new record showcases 21 Savage’s duality – an ascendant star perpetually wrestling with demons.

Sometimes the introspection is a touch overcooked, the lyricism stumbling into platitude. But the honesty and self-interrogation should be applauded, and the powerful, richly textured soundscapes behind it all show why Daniel Caesar is revered as one of the most important artists in modern R&B and soul.

By its fourth track ‘Loser’, the album’s first single, his insecurities are so hammered down to the listener – “I’m a tragedy / tryna figure my whole life out” – that it begins gets in the way of his arrangements, which so far are imaginative and varied compared to the stylistic tedium of ‘The Slow Rush’.

The 20-track project adeptly captures the sadness and social isolation sparked by Young Thug’s time away, but conveys it with such lethargy and incoherence that you’re simply left feeling sorry for him rather than inspired by his storytelling.

Gone are the wistfulness and melancholy that permeated her last four albums, yet ‘The Life of a Showgirl’ still sounds curiously muted despite Swift reuniting with pop super-producers Max Martin and Shellback for the first time in eight years.

It’s good to hear Sprints develop on ‘All That Is Over’, but to do so without extinguishing that fire is the fine line they walk.

The result is a bloated, soulless shell that never finds its own voice.

At times, ‘I’m Only F**king Myself’ feels a little all over the place – though, cramming so many interesting and surprising spins on pop into one record, and largely pulling it off, is still commendable.

Sheeran hasn’t committed as wholeheartedly to the genre-hopping bit as he did on ‘÷’. There are an awful lot of those sickly ballads, some of which are better than others: ‘Old Phone’, inspired by seeing an old text from Edwards, is genuinely moving.

It’s frustrating because there’s plenty of great material scattered across these two parts, which would be far stronger as a single, shorter release.

In the end, Taylor stands strong, heart laid bare in a tender, nuanced close to an imperfect but heartfelt album that proves that you can find your way back to yourself.

The choice to join forces with so many artists was always a huge risk, and unfortunately, it sometimes ends up dampening the charm that first set them apart from the masses. But in the moments where it does come together, it’s both epic and intriguing as hell.

‘No Signs Of Weakness’ plays more like a curated playlist of experiments rather than a fully realised body of work: it lacks direction, the momentum sputters, and even some of the more ambitious tracks could’ve used another round of sculpting.

As a whole, though, ‘Swag’ often feels poorly edited, its 21 tracks accumulating into a directionless slog. The production may have its moments, but the lyrics rarely deliver the depth to match.

‘Let the Lord Sort ’Em Out’ isn’t a total misfire: it’s composed, thoughtful and often impressively lyrically detailed. But after 16 years, Clipse didn’t come back knocking down doors and shocking the world.

There are moments of pure spectacle, such as the delightfully absurd accordion-rave lead single ‘Joyride’, and ‘Yippie-Ki-Yay’, an unholy fusion of Def Leppard and Florida Georgia Line. .... ‘Love Forever’, ‘The One’, ‘Too Hard’ are relatively straightforward love songs that don’t reach the vulnerability of albums past. It all builds to the closing track ‘Cathedral’, a spiritual sequel to ‘Praying’.

OThe real problem is the gloopy, mush-mouthed ballads that take up the rest of the album.

The results are varied, but this is just one frame of a much bigger picture of Jin’s solo career – one where he will undoubtedly continue to grow and prosper the more he leans into what suits him best.

In the end, ‘More Chaos’ does exactly what it says on the tin: it’s overloaded, aggressive, and unruly – and that’s the point.

Though ‘Send A Prayer My Way’ doesn’t always grip you with the immediacy of either Baker or Scott’s respective solo careers, it’s still refreshing to hear two very well-established songwriters exploring such distinct new territory together.

Instead of offering a truly revealing glimpse into their relationship – as the album cover suggests – ‘I Said I Love You First’ maintains a noticeable distance between artist and listener, and leaves you feeling a little empty by the end.

The album is eclectic, unapologetic and, at times, a little lost in its own spectacle.

There’s no build-up here – the record begins at maximum intensity, a full throttle barrage of chainsaw guitars and hyperspeed drums. .... The problem, however, is that immediacy can be a double-edged sword – there are points on ‘Blindness’ calling out for more work.

The production (by Wheezy, ATLJacob and others) laid a solid foundation for Baby to make a few hits, but the record is nothing to write home about.

Dre and Snoop forgot the legacy they created for the West Coast with ‘Doggystyle’ and – although there are flashes of fun – the forgettable collection barely scratches the surface of their legendary status.

The sonic range on display is certainly a stark departure from the twisted world of Chvrches’ thrilling 2021 album ‘Screen Violence’, but at times, it can feel more like an ideas workshop than a bold artistic statement.

While her words don’t always deliver, ‘Petrichor’ stands best when her emotionality and innovative soundscape take hold.

Three safe, heavyweight singles are backed up by a confusingly hit-and-miss album.

Within the chaos, there’s beauty — the sensitivity of ‘Hey Jane’, the infectious hip-hop bite of ‘Thought I Was Dead’, the rising cacophonies of brass and percussion on ‘I Killed You’. But perhaps a less frantic approach would’ve benefited the listen overall.

As a body of work, ‘Glorious’ is uneven – there are a handful of certified hits and a bunch of questionable additions that suggest better quality control was needed here. But, with her undeniable energy and beautiful message of girl power, it’s still worth a listen, even if it doesn’t live up to the expectations that her attention-grabbing singles previously set.

Some bars are simple to a fault – a continuous problem throughout the record. Luckily, ‘Formula OneDa’ shows a lot of promise. Other songs represent her strong storytelling better as she seamlessly shifts between grime, dance, and hip-hop, delving into a wide array of themes.

It’s not necessarily trying to be clever – more that the sheer weight of its many ideas crushes the more visceral response that its obvious instrumental swagger demands from its listener.

Amid the admirable artistic confrontation in this record, there’s a gnawing impersonality that plagues many of the tracks here. There’s enough diamond material shining in the dirt to make this one of the most inventive posthumous albums that’s been released in recent times – it’s just a shame that the album doesn’t fully execute SOPHIE’s unique vision.

A record that sometimes hits the target but rarely leaves a lasting impression.

It’s tempting to tell Smith that Murphy wants his shtick back (along with his suit), but the pastiche is often effective, at least.

Pacing a 15-song LP is no simple task, and ‘This World Fucking Sucks’ can sound uneven. .... The record ends with a showcase of the emotional power of Cassyette’s voice, which still feels like a breath of fresh air in the alternative sphere and will stand her in good stead as she continues to establish her sound.

Songs like ‘No Simulation’ and ‘Red Flags’ bring back her ethereal, brooding signature sound, too, while others serve as little pick-me-ups for when you need to switch on. But, this record doesn’t weld these two sides of Tinashe successfully. There’s still a way to go before she finds her sweet spot, but this is a fun stepping stone along the way.

Although ‘Lungu Boy’ sees Asake still rewriting the rulebook on Afro-pop, you have to push through a lot of samey repeats of his past work before you get to the good stuff.

Many of the digressions are compelling, however, the frequent changes in approach mean that its creators’ personality isn’t always easy to grasp. This mercurial quality is a result of several straightforward rock tracks that are noticeably weaker than the album’s finest moments.

The star’s debut album shows plenty of promise but some filler, too. It’s not a masterpiece that will silence the haters, but it’s not likely to slam the brakes on her rapid rise either.

As its lead single suggested, Eminem is attempting to have it both ways here – to emulate his 2000s hits while lampooning Shady as a cultural relic who makes geriatric barbs at sensitive Gen Z-ers (as on ‘Trouble’), which enables him to say the same old thirstily provocative stuff. The extent to which he does so only overshadows the point he’s apparently trying to make.

Leaning into catchy pop and garage rock mixed with an anecdotal edge, Bird’s debut album ‘American Hero’ has a gloss that is, undeniably, all-American.

‘C,XOXO’ is a laconic, off-kilter pop record filled with heavily Auto-Tuned vocals inspired by T-Pain. It’s a new sound for Cabello that heightens the music’s intriguing, trippy sheen. Throughout, her lyrics pivot between pithy and revealing.

While the singles released for ‘Model’ were strong and lively, the album as a whole sounds like a band that has withdrawn from taking a risk and stepping back into their comfort zone.

When ‘I Hear You’ deviates from its dance-pop blueprint, it doesn’t always work. .... The album picks up in its explorative second half, with intercontinental drum’n’bass (‘Seoulsi Peggygou’) and comforting piano house (‘Purple Horizon’). There are still cheesy references and canned snare fills, but also a welcome dose of surprise.

The likes of ‘Little Birds’ and ‘Raining On Your Pillow’ are lullingly linear, driven by routine drum patterns and interchangeable vocal melodies. Depending on your perspective, the sparse instrumentation is either ‘minimalist’ or ‘undercooked’, oscillating between the polarities across the course of this languid collection.

The record fares better when it shoots for genuine experimentation, like on the weird, spacey ‘Lavish’; otherwise, ‘Clancy’ is more often than not the sound of a band spinning their wheels, caught in a strange space where their colourful conceptual ideas are being painted from a beige musical palette.

This is easily KOL’s most promising, liberated record for over a decade but still surprisingly restrained in places. Can they have fun? Yes it appears, in places, but they could have had a whole lot more.

The album’s beachy vibes feel suited to a festival field’s carefree disposition. You just wish there was a little more to these songs.

Ultimately this record lacks the genuinely interesting shifts that have punctuated Swift’s career so far, from the lyrical excellence on her superior breakup album ‘Red’ to ‘1989’’s pivot to high-octane pop.

‘I’m Doing It Again Baby!’ is a fine album; it’s fun and sweet, if a little bland. It’s a pristine pop record that takes few risks and leaves little room for error – though it might be more interesting if it did.

Gray’s newfound penchant for ’80s pop doesn’t come with a notion of irony – he’s fully embracing even the era’s most ostentatious elements. But despite his own sincerity, there are moments that drift closer towards a caricature of the era than a true homage to the decade’s most innovative pop.

This is a pretty good Black Keys record that chiefly serves to underline how wedded they are to the fundamentals of their own process.

Viewed in isolation, ‘Heaven’ is a pretty sublime pop-punk record. Its little brother, ‘Hell’, yields more mixed results, continuing the metal-infused sound Sum 41 have veered towards in recent years.

Musgraves’ assertiveness feels like a real glimmer of light amid the sparse compositions that run through this thoughtful, imperfect, down-to-earth record.

Clocking in at a slither under 77 minutes, ‘Everything I Thought It Was’ is a slog enlivened by some surprising moments.

‘Vultures 1’ might not be the total dud that could put Kanye’s career six feet under, but it is far from one of his best efforts either. It’s more cohesive than ‘Donda’ – although that’s not hard, given it’s about half its length – and includes some well-curated guest spots from Travis Scott, Playboi Carti and India Love.

Some other stylistic choices prevent ‘New Last Name’ from being the disruptive moment it clearly wants to be – ‘Flex’ and its nod to ‘Mr Brightside’ (“now she’s calling a cab”), doesn’t quite land – but the album’s overall vibrancy doesn’t dim on repeated listens.

There’s no question that Herring still writes songs capable of evoking strong emotions, but this time around they can occasionally feel too twinkly and repetitive. What’s missing is some risk-taking; unpredictable production flourishes that could better reflect the overall mood of the album and all the ambiguities that accompany a major life change.

Though the romantic elements of ‘Discount De Kooning (Last Man Standing)’ are nice enough, it fails to penetrate in any meaningful way. As the record meanders on, tracks such as ‘The Dreamer’ and ‘Anonymous In Los Feliz’ fail to leave a lasting impression. That’s not to say it doesn’t work. It might not offer anything new, but it doesn’t necessarily need to.

It’s not until ‘Kids Are Growing Up’ the album’s 20th and final track, that Howard attempts to reflect on anything but heartbreak and fame. .... It feels like an emotional breakthrough for Howard, but it comes just a little too late.

The collection is more of a mood piece than of noticeable, memorable songs.

‘Quarter Life Crisis’ moves between moods that translate to bright, Day Glo colours (‘Kid Genius’) or dark goth accents (‘Die Alone’). But the former can often turn grating.

The issue is, however, that it’s perhaps lacking in variety. Although the rocket-fueled, lightning-paced ‘More Than You Know’ and the gently atmospheric closer ‘Childhood’ do offer changes in pace, there’s only really subtle things differentiating many of these songs from each other. Sometimes, the hooks aren’t as strong as they could be.

While ‘The Darker The Shadow’ is ambitious, packed with witty, insightful commentary on the human experience, its conceptual focus allowing plenty of scope for creative flourishes, it ultimately lacks the incisive punch of his earlier songwriting.

The club bangers lack the oomph of his past singles and the lead-out tracks, ‘Fan’ and ‘Worth It’ are criminally limp. .... Eventually, the vulnerability shines through.

For All The Dogs- his third solo LP in as many years – not only feels tiring, but sounds tired too.

The album, frustratingly, proceeds on a perplexingly flat note. Clocking in at 14 songs, one wonders if the ferocity of ‘Grooming My Replacement’ could have completed a memorable ten-track collection, with the final few tracks lacking that consistent cutting edge.

The nuance and specificity of his last album’s songwriting is largely absent; instead ‘Autumn Variations’ is akin to aimlessly swiping through Instagram, blurry snaps of followers’ leafy happenings whizzing past in a distracted daze.

‘Sorry I’m Late’ is a lot more fun when it stops trying so hard to prove itself.

Sanchez’s gorgeous vocal is what truly stands out.

It all adds up to an overlong, slightly repetitive but ultimately compelling album of two halves.

There’s one too many generic, string-laden ballads, and a stop-start feel to the record, a frustration given how enlivening its highs are. But if anything, it feels like a record Beer has been desperate to make since the very beginning: she’s come a long way in her time in the spotlight, but now we’re finally getting to know her true sound.

‘Volcano’ certainly isn’t overstuffed with ideas. Often, the uniformity in this approach – muddy vocal line that could be a chopped-up classic, and a minimal but effective bassline – mean that several of the songs meld together, struggling to stand out. .... But when they get it right, it’s hard to deny how hard it hits.

Where he’s inventive and precise in directing his energy, he’s able to make real uplifting and imaginative indie bops. It’s a shame this album’s not full of them. The potential is there, but he’s not quite hit it.

By going back to the sound of his early work, Scott steps back into the gargantuan shadow of his mentor. Kanye West – particularly the mechanical abrasiveness and fragmented textures of 2014’s ‘Yeezus’ – is not just an inspiration but an apparition that looms over Scott’s identity on this album.

There’s a certain power to ‘Euphoric’, but it certainly could have been a much more potent album. It’s a shame, and a missed opportunity: we don’t learn much about Georgia’s new worldview on a record that is, supposedly, dedicated to moving on from the past.

‘Sunburn’ still acts as a love letter to the place he was raised in, however, allowing Fike to return home not only to the relentless humid state but to himself.

Despite its underwhelming second half, ‘Barbie’ is packed with a surprising diversity of sounds paying homage to the Mattel muse. The soundtrack has some wonderful highs and some miserable lows – but then again, it’s not all rosy in Barbie Land…

There is a sense that Lifeguard will only kick on from here, finding greater balance between the competing elements in their music while also growing in confidence when it comes to taking creative leaps.

It remains to be seen whether Do Nothing can use the solid foundations of ‘Snake Sideways’ as a launching pad to ascend to the giddy heights of their initial promise.

Presented as a 96-minute opera, his fourth studio album is a haughty gesture weighed down by its own folly, scanning instead as pathos.

It’s another tension that helps to define ‘Girl With Fish’ — a sense that nothing holds so much weight that it can’t be taken elsewhere in the next moment. While that idea perhaps keeps these songs from being as memorable as they could be, it does occasionally work, shaping the album into a really nice cut of slacker-noise.

A ‘difficult second’ album this is not, but the big set-pieces are left wanting. .... Regardless, there’s ample to consider, decode and treasure from an artist who consistently makes poring over the lyric sheet line-by-line as much fun as the finished product.

Sonic risks are taken, but they don’t always pay off.

A record that occasionally shows steady growth, but this potential remains largely untapped.

This surprise album – despite its frequent beauty – works best as a puzzle piece rather than a standout record in its own right.

For the most part, ‘-‘ feels like a warm but cautious hug from a sensitive friend – Dessner gives Sheeran space to say what’s on his mind without trying to crowd him. ... But most of ‘-’ is doggedly one-paced, an often drawback of Dessner’s mellow production stylings.

Eloise’s attempts to gently push her sound outwards are admirable and promising. There’s a disquieting hint of sourness to the distorted layers on ‘Take It Back’, while ‘Vanilla Tobacco’ is peppered with moments of record scratching. They may be far from revolutionary, but the fullness of Eloise’s new vision vibrates in these tender details.

At times, ‘In Pieces’ still stands as a fragmented version of the songwriter and producer’s talents.

There is disappointment that a number of U2’s big-hitters don’t translate well on ‘Stories For Surrender’, but this revision hasn’t been a totally fruitless endeavour: you just have to dig a little bit deeper to find the reimagined material that’s truly worth savouring.

Though the album gets a little messier and more unfocused from this point, ‘Oceans Niagara’ points to a beautifully bright future for the M83 project.

Covering so much ground (‘Hydrate’ even bridges dubstep and reggae) means the album lacks a clear narrative or overarching theme.