Experimental pop that tries way too hard and yet paradoxically feels frustratingly half-hearted. [12 Jun 2004, p.49]

Twist[s] both the ultra-familiar and the obscure into awkward new shapes. [21 Jan 2006, p.35]

Taylor's attraction lies in her ability to switch herself effortlessly between vastly different styles.

It's an impressive attempt to drag folk music out of the hayloft and onto the dancefloor and it marks the emergence of a smart, sincere and talented new pop star.

While these might not be Nilsson finest ever songs, it’s nothing less than a joy to hear him singing again.

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.

A welcome change of pace.

Half great and half pointless.

Luna isn’t for the faint-hearted, fashion-conscious or dull-witted. Kooks fans seeking a challenge should keep exploring the outer reaches of The Fratellis’ oeuvre. But for people after a patchouli-scented patchwork of thought-provoking musicality, The Aliens have landed.

This is a rock album for those whose idea of rock heroism is Red Hot Chili Peppers, U2, or maybe Muse if they're feeling a bit crazy. If that's you, you'll bloody love it. Everyone else will have to hope Example's evolution is just the beginning.

Sparse, directionless and half-formed, Trans AM's eighth LP is nowhere near the radical transformation its title suggests.

At its best, 'A New Morning' sees Suede show off their vulnerable side again. It won't attract any new admirers but old fans will love them more for it.

Hidden under the pit floor, however, are frankly scarier prospects. Like AAF's toe-curling cover of Michael Jackson's 'Smooth Criminal' or the awful sub-Police reggae lurch of 'Flesh And Bone'. Singer Dryden Mitchell over-emotes at every turn too, further slickening 'ANThology's pomp rock gloss.

A bit like playing Russian roulette in reverse: you spin the disc and pray in vain for something to stick in your brain. [19 Jun 2004, p.56]

Sex with a z – amusing but dull.

It does little to either push Turner forward or tell these stories satisfactorily.

The heavier moments refuse to act as a sledegehammer of alt-rock pastiche, which this record could so easily have been. Instead, it’s a showcase of songcraft that’s allowed to breathe and reveal itself. Bring on volume two. The dream lives on.

Unfortunately, this rarities compilation focuses on OM's 2008-until-now phase, and it grates heavily.

You hear a band capable of genuine prettiness as well as arch cleverness. [6 Jan 2007, p.26]

Made In Sheffield is a surprising record, lovingly conceived and beautifully executed.

It's unquestionably a beautiful (debut) album, and one that may be well-timed.

Though nothing is as memorable as Keys classics like ‘If I Ain’t Got You’ and ‘Fallin”, her melodies are undeniably lovely. ... ‘Unlocked’ isn’t strong enough to turn this into a top-tier Alicia Keys album, but it does make it a project worth investigating. With some judicious pruning and sharp sequencing, any Keys fan should be able to carve out a pretty satisfying playlist.

You could argue Wolfmother’s ballsy and carefree hi-octane music is all just innocent fun, ideally washed down with a six pack of tinnies. Yet it’s utterly devoid of soul and intelligence.

The key word is ‘almost’, because what could have been mawkish and naive is instead deliciously raw, an album for when all else fails.

It’s a shame that Quirk’s quirky vibrato is so prominent as it ruins an album that otherwise sits somewhere between untroublesome and mildly enjoyable

The record lurches between cliched harpsichord-driven ditties and cringeworthy soft-rock pop songs that rely on the inventiveness of their concept over the originality of their music.

The London four-piece have never had trouble creating pretty atmospheres though; it’s contrasting them with a bolder hook, lyrical or otherwise, where they struggle.

This sounds more like a new Gnarls Barkley album than an old Prince one. A genius on autopilot is still very clever indeed.

[The title track is] a fantastic storm-brewing, brass-stabbing, Nelson Riddle-goes-Tom-Waits, claustrophobic blues number.... It's not worth buying this album for, however, since the rest of it's made up of frustratingly minimalist snatches of music.

Lyrical gloom aside, though, 'Exciter' sounds like a band not just revitalised but reassembled from scratch. Not many long-running groups could make an album this fresh and confident in their 20th year, never mind one which bridges timeless soulman crooning and underground techno.

The true masters have finally awakened from their slumber.

This smartly dressed record may allow James to feel at least slightly relevant again.

Yet another Next Flaming Lips emerges from beneath the librarian's skirts. In the 'Neon Bible' section, of course.

Tracks such as "Excuses," "Animal Backwards" and, in particular, "Into the Mirror" caress the ears with hypnotic funk, yet these triumphs are only ripples against a stronger tide, as lyrically Omni is a damp blanket.

Expectations isn’t flawless, but it’s a compelling re-introduction to an underrated artist--one capable of putting her own stamp on current pop sounds.

It allows this album to coast through even its dodgy moments and emerge as a loose and easy proposition.

At times throwaway, at others raw, intimate and charming, there’s plenty here you’ll want to get your mate to ask out for you.

Despite bringing in all these names to make it an event album, The Blueprint 3 delivers because of hefty beats and quality rapsmanship, nothing else.

It's odd that parts of it sound too careful.

We're treated to none-too-shabby performances of the obvious lighter-wavers as well as several lesser-known wonders, including a rocked-up take on 'Green' favourite 'Orange Crush' and an airing of the sublime 'Cuyahoga' from underrated 1986 release 'Life's Rich Pageant.'

Abe Vigoda, HEALTH and No Age's noise-pop inform the best parts of this fine debut LP, rendering it a swirling headfuck of manic energy mixed with blissed-out melody.

By total accident they seem to have stumbled upon the perfect formula for the indie-rock disco anthem, and for this they should be lauded.

The lyrics, too, reek of a lack of inspiration.

This Is Christmas is effectively hate-proof, loved-up, entertaining stuff that strikes just the right balance of humour and heart-tugging.

Safe, yes, but by no means stale.

Kiss Land is a fascinating record, Tesfaye defying reservations with the self-absorption of a madman.

Welch displays little dancefloor nous. Conversely, these cheerful jumbles of loops and kickdrums aren’t the kind of ambience you can sink into.

It's not without charm--the needle-jump static of 'Dolly And Porter' gently drives a sweet melody; stroboscopic flickers of synth make a gripping arrangement for 'Closer To The Elderly'--but too often it's just Taylor's fragile voice cooing drab, introspective mantras over sparse electric piano.

Artfully curated references see her picking and choosing from the best.

Teatime Dub Encounters doesn’t pale in their shadow or smack of a vanity or side project. This is a whole new monster born of the friction from a restless need to create, the pure abandon to do whatever the fuck feels good, and the batshit brilliance from three mad scientists with so much still to prove. Others of their standing may choose the wallowing legacy of safety. These guys do not.

There are subtle nods to what’s come before, but for the most part, this record sees Morello adapt with the times to create a record on the cutting-edge of a genre often afraid to evolve.

So yes, a solid enough album by the standards of most pop tarts, but from the mistress of innovation? Pretty mediocre.

Despite the odd unfortunate guest, ‘Rockstar’ is as bursting with life and positivity as the woman who made it.

Ridiculous, yes, but to Thrice's credit, wanting to be Deftones (which they attempt here, at length) is a noble endeavour. But the results are still clunky.

Konk is the sound of a band in disarray, unsuccessfully attempting to hold things together.

The four-piece’s debut is a forcefully soulful affair.

Secure, self-aware and even funny, this could well be the masterpiece they've always promised to make. [11 Mar 2006, p.43]

Great album, if not entirely relaxing.

The first thing that strikes you about Tricky's sixth album is how, despite the size of the project - the collaborators, the much-trumpeted 'new directions', the very fact that this is the new Tricky album, fergawdsakes - it manages to sound so underwhelming.

Much of the 'Smith's music is reassuringly familiar, barely changed over their previous 12 albums, a mix of loose-jointed Stones raunch and vast power ballads impressive enough to bring out the 40-something in all of us.

Completists can tick a box, but it'd be a shame if this was really the original New Order's last word.

Ultimately, Glow will live or die on the strength of its singles. On this evidence, Tensnake seems to be missing that key part of his blueprint.

[A] groovily electronic, acid-addled collection of throat-tickling, Venusian rhyme formations. [23 Oct 2004, p.51]

'Light Grenades' offers little change to Incubus' formula of having Brandon Boyd perform his brand of strained vocal gymnastics. [2 Dec 2006, p.30]

The decision you have to make with Summer Camp is this: do you want dance music that'll stop your feet moving by throwing some thought-provoking lyrics in your direction? Or dance music that'll make you wanna, you know, dance?

Gratitude shows that he’s a musician who, almost a decade into his career, still has much to say--and a great deal to work out on record.

Away from the chaos, here’s a record that cuts to the core of Doherty with a little less noise and a little more love.

Fans of their debut won’t be surprised by anything on here, but Kllo’s dexterous variations on a theme should win them over regardless.

For all its flaws, 'Up All Night' bristles with passion, energy and, most importantly, amazing songs. [26 Jun 2004, p.53]

Samey and inaccessible in parts. [5 Nov 2005, p.43]

It’s always best to take what M.I.A. says with a pinch of salt bigger than the NHS would recommend but if AIM really is her last album, it feels like a fitting parting shot.

These overly earnest lines [in ‘Weathered,’ ‘My House Is Your Home,’ and ‘Surprise Yourself’] do a disservice to Garratt’s talents as a musician and producer, because the artful melodies and textures on Phase really do shine.

Sublime stuff. [11 Feb 2006, p.33]

He's terribly earnest. [4 Nov 2006, p.35]

It's a record of rare precision; the kind that comes from figuring out exactly what you want. The kind that comes from being all grown up.

Ultimately, 'Ten New Messages' is too myopic to see beyond its own concrete cynicism.

It's a compelling, if far from satisfying, album: the awkward work of a man confronting mortality, global meltdown and fractionally diminished success, but still terrified of appearing pretentious, still stuck with singalong tunes in his head.

Cydonia is a stillborn relic, flawed throughout by chronically stunted ambitions.

As dated as it undoubtedly is, it still makes for a pleasant enough ride.

Mostly Americana and mostly unremarkable. [29 Apr 2006, p.37]

'Vision Valley' is the sound of a band with nothing more to lose, a super-condensed portrait of their career thus far.

There's nothing on Anxiety so arrestingly new or comfortably familiar.

It's only on 'Ghetto Stars' when that ominous whisper comes to the fore, that Mixed Race excites, and a cascade of strings that don't so much make us yearn for past glories as wonder what Tricky thinks he has left to prove.

Like the syndrome named after the titular city, you’ll fall for these tunes with repeated exposure, but you’ll live without them once you’re free from them too.

Alas, it tails off towards the end, and TBS never quite shake the feeling that other people are doing this sort of thing far more thrillingly elsewhere. [20 May 2006, p.33]

‘Expensive Pain’ has its moments, but overall feels like a rushed project that lacks the quality control of previous albums within Meek’s catalogue.

It's good to have them back--but only just.

Ultimately, comeback albums are about consolidation rather than reinvention, and there’s just enough of the old ‘Smart’ magic here to satisfy the retro crowds. But there’s little sign of a route to relevance, and that’s not something to sleep on.

Despite the air of musical schizophrenia, 'Intensive Care' is OK in a sort of karaoke way. [22 Oct 2005, p.43]

Tender Opposites is a technical delight, sounding like psych-nitwits Deerhoof giving an old friend a bearhug.

[Songs Of Innocence] has only a handful of standouts.... This is a serious mis-step that might win a week's worth of good publicity, but could foreshadow a year's worth of bad.

If you've the stomach to set aside your indie sensibilities and endure the occasional terrifying flashback to '(Everything I Do) I Do It For You', Battle Born holds some majestic moments.

We find exquisite Beatles-indebted pop, moments of effortless lyrical and melodic brilliance and a few tunes which drift dangerously close to easy listening.

Clearly Damon is pleased to be carving a niche in the world of high art, but perhaps 'Dr Dre The Opera: Nuthin' But An ENO Thang' might have served his legend better.

At 30 minutes long, the trip is brief, but it covers so much ground.

With its drill influences and eclecticism, this is perhaps the record ‘Donda’ could have been, proving that Fivio has plenty of scope to transcend drill culture.

A smattering of other tracks aside (including the lush groove of ‘Getting Closer’ and the funk-jazz fanfare of ‘Love Is Everywhere’), this collection doesn’t fully provide catharsis nor connection.

Sébastien invites you to follow him, like a sexy David Koresh, and with tunes like 'Sedulous', 'Pepito Bleu' and the aforementioned 'Cochon Ville' ('pig city' en Anglais), the call might just prove irresistible.