While the guitars are grimier and the drums hit harder, Pins haven’t totally smothered their sound in engine oil.

This psychedelic folk pop-athon of tickled riffs, snappy elastic basslines, shimmering synths and sweetly sung vocals is all dreamy eccentricity, with a bittersweet hint of rhythmic unrest, from start to finish, and should send Hidden Cameras fans into an amorous tizz after just one listen.

His molasses-coated cooing works well along his sparse arrangements. [17 Sep 2005, p.58]

Canopy Glow can pass you by on first listen, but persevere and memorable moments do emerge.

Funk Wav Bounces Vol. 1 is a triumph; a good-time album of wall-to-wall hits with a carefree, funky tropical feel and more than enough cool points to see him embraced by the hipster crowd as well as holding on to the pop kids.

The result is delirious party music, which, although at times deliciously dumb, is never – as cerebral Addison Groove fan Aphex Twin would attest – stupid.

‘Love For Sale’ is best when Bennett and Gaga playfully trade lines and sing in unison, with the veteran singer countering his collaborator’s belting vocal with artful restraint.

As before, attempts to explore London's seedy underbelly verge on hamfisted and voyeuristic. But, again as before, Soft Cell really flourish with Marc's relationship horror stories, which happens on two songs.

An enormous, symphonic, sprawling, highly ambitious, far-reaching work of wonder. [17 Jul 2004, p.48]

It tries to capture the essence of 1973 without having any big hairy old prog hits on it. Which is a bit like trying to capture the essence of the Star Wars films by cutting out all the bits in space.

A total car-crash of excess enthusiasm. [12 Jun 2004, p.49]

A little more melodic resolve wouldn't go amiss, but 'Ester' is a solid, imaginative debut that leaves you aglow with the ice-warmth of a blip-literate Cocteau Twins.

Yet amongst [a few] luminous choice picks, sometimes it gets lethargic – and the record stalls.

It’s a sleeping giant of a dancefloor creeper that will be everyone’s favourite new electro album in approximately six months’ time.

Just as Moz's stance as a one-man outsider army and ringleader of the tormentors is restated, so is his standing as the godfather of indie disaffection and despair.

ii is a record that unveils itself slowly, initially sounding ugly and abrasive before the melodies surge to the fore. Once you look for it, there’s beauty amidst the ugliness.

It’s an album steeped in balladry and strummy, sad-girl pop, each track a soft unraveling of her inner world. And yet, coming from Rosé – an artist who has long had to keep her personal life under wraps – this stripped-back approach feels nothing short of bold.

Busy and Melissa have made a record that shimmers with possibilities, mapping out an alien territory that’s eerily inviting. Now it’s time to build on it.

Sea Of Cowards, then, is the record The Dead Weather should have come out with first, casting them firmly as a real band, albeit one that sound like they’d roofie their fan club soon as look at them. It’s actually supremely brave and exhilarating.

Thankfully, on The World Is Yours the band sound more engaged than they have in some time.

For all its high-mindedness, it’s garage-rock primalism is just as easily enjoyed with your brain switched off. Perhaps that’s the point.

Whether or not you'd want to listen to it more than once depends on your pain threshold, but those 45 minutes will be among the most terrifying of your life, guaranteed. [13 Nov 2004, p.56]

Although the decision to release what sound like half-finished tracks purposefully left in the draft folder somewhat misguided, the album doesn’t do anything to tarnish his legacy. Instead, there are moments where it shows how capable of an artist Åhr was, a gentle reminder of the stardom Lil Peep could have achieved.

All those years in Audioslave have smoothed Cornell's appealingly rough edges, and as grand as King Animal occasionally sounds, it lumbers when it should roar.

Red may only be a fleetingly satisfying confection, but maybe that was the plan all along.

Combin[es] the chummy West Coast country pop of The Thrills with the plink-plonk pub piano philosophising of Embrace. [3 Jun 2006, p.33]

Pleasantly tuneful pop-punk. [23 Oct 2004, p.51]

We’re left with a sprawling, obvious, uber-commercial, stoopid punk-pop album that might just stop five million American idiots from voting for a war-mongering Republican baby-slaughterer when they grow up. Works for me.