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

There's two ways for the devout Dandys fan to approach 'Odditorium...' . 1) it's their 'Kid A', a brave blunder into a new creed of experimentation into which they will hopefully one day re-work The Tunes. Or 2) what they really wanted to make was a week-long jazz opus played entirely on dying cats, but the record company made them put some proper songs on it.

Each of these six songs is named after a traditional Norwegian dish, and together they cook up a satisfying if unadventurous snack.

It’s not something you’ll be hankering to press play on repeatedly. Not that it’s bad music: excuse the pretension, but it really is an experience; one that would lend itself better to accompanying Jaar’s physical art installations than a standard album listen.

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.

There are some bangers that you’ll know, such as ‘Manic Monday’, which was written by Prince for The Bangles, whose singer Susanna Hoffs lends some warm guitar and vocals to match Armstrong’s silky sentimental side. It’s the perfect soundtrack to lazily whiling away the monotony of quarantine.

However successful the whole endeavour (¡Dos! and ¡Tré!) might end up being, ¡Uno! can only be judged on its own merits, and those merits are somewhat erratic.

A release packed with bangers and choppy breaks.

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.

Although it's smart, it also feels safe compared with the thrilling records Clark has made before.

Patience is impressive, for sure, but The Invisible still leave us wanting to see much, much more.

Not a misstep for Eno, but not quite the best of both worlds, either.

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.

Nobody's pretending this lot balance on the razor-sharp blade of the cutting edge. Even so, their orchestral whimsy presses the 'lovely, bordering on twee' button.

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.

In turns, it's searingly honest and brutal... with interludes where everything turns fluffy. [19 Aug 2006, p.35]

Well-meaning and positive, ‘Zoom In’ is the aural equivalent of wishing somebody a ‘Happy Hump Day!’ over email, while wearing a daft grin. For all its flaws, this is a hard record to hate.

These clear, plucky songs may not be terribly adventurous for the most part, but they do feel like the ambitious work of an artist broadening their scope.

‘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.

X-Press 2 are like a dancefloor Oasis; great at pleasing the crowds, less good at innovation, and fatally weakened by their reverence for washed-up old rockers.

Oczy Mlody is the sonic equivalent of a deserted space-ship adrift in the cosmos, with Coyne as the lonely repair-bot dusting the diodes. A psych rock Passengers, then, rather than Barbarella.

It sounds very pleasant.

The uncluttered production always feels reasonably on-trend, but too often these songs just aren’t catchy or inventive enough to be truly memorable. The result is another pretty decent album that doesn’t quite ignite.

Rather than a fresh blast of wizardry, ‘Extreme Witchcraft’ is more of a feet-finder for our times.

There's little on PSB's album that matches the big twizzly dunce-hatted glory of their 'Very' peak. [20 May 2006, p.33]

It’s not quite the revelatory departure we might have hoped for, and has the rich but unfocused feel of something worked on perhaps too long with obsessive fervour, but it’s also subtle and interesting; an intriguing soundtrack to an era of change.

Occasionally brilliant ear food for when you’re just drifting off.

‘Monthly Friend’ might not be the progression we were quite hoping for, but there are sparks of more refined songwriting and tunes lifted by a bolder voice. An artist who’s so admirably dedicated to their craft is certainly one to keep an eye on.