Ne-Yo‘s overly polished vocals not sit well and Preemo’s production sounds uncharacteristically remedial. Sometimes, too, Guru’s absence is a little too noticeable. ... But these hiccups aren’t enough to derail the album’s quest to remind fans why the duo’s name is mentioned amongst the hip-hop greats.

All too often, tracks feel like connectors – carriages to transport listeners between the singles. There’s little narrative, few definitive themes, but there are lots of guests.

It’s hard to find a unifying meaning beyond the beautiful noise or any indication, really, of what a band that’s cut‘n’spliced a plethora of sounds and genre has left to say or do. Perhaps a part two will answer.

Although ‘B7’ could probably benefit from an injection of tempo from time to time, as well as a little trimming – the granular ‘High Heels’, where Brandy raps under her Bran’Nu alias, disrupts the album’s more refined moments – it mostly thrives, thanks to her unwavering resilience, the unique texture of her vocals and the stellar production courtesy of DJ Camper, Lonnie Smalls II and the late LaShawn Daniels.

They pick a traditional genre and do everything in their wicked power to leave it a broken, quivering wreck by the time they’re finished with it.

It’s melodic, competent stuff, but if you’re going to try and push the crazy buttons you’ve got to go full straitjacket, and Liam Finn is just a tad too straight.

Tasteful and perfectly executed, but workmanlike.

It's compelling, and finds new territory.... But it doesn't do a huge amount to lodge itself in your memory

On this evidence, SMD aren't quite there and the result is, sadly, a bit boring.

Kurt’s going for a mirror image of the album here: reimagining some songs (‘Air Bud’ becomes ‘Wedding Budz’), expanding others (‘Snowflakes Extended’), adding reprises and, thankfully, including a brand-new track--the lovely ‘Feel My Pain’.

The AM radio pulse of the title track, the San Franciscan sway of ‘Old Friends’ and the loveliness of ‘Country Queen’, with its sweet acoustic fade into ‘In The Rounds’, is overshadowed by a nagging lack of imagination.

Better known for one-off dancehall hits and dubplates, Popcaan isn’t necessarily expected to make a cohesive feature-length record, particularly not across 17 cumbersome tracks. But on ‘Great Is He’ he proves that the exuberant dancehall sound he’s known for can be tinkered with and remoulded, along with some undiscovered vulnerability.

heir lighter moments can be a bit cringeworthy--too earnest by half--but when they go slow and heavy, they’re unfuckwithable.

A record largely comprised of sulphurous gothic rockers such as ‘Lose The Right’ and ‘Be Still’, both of which sound like a band working from muscle memory.

Though less immediate than debut "Marry Me," Actor is full of charm, picking its way through disorienting rhythm changes and peculiar progressions.

Mason falls a touch short of the mark. [27 May 2006, p.33]

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.

Fans of the Mancunian mood sculptor will see this lavishly packaged collection as the latest step in securing Bazza's reputation as the North West's sardonic answer to Barry White.

If only the other half of this album didn't spiral off into wretched reggae stylings, this would be alright.

Ruminations on a post-Brexit nation from a bunch of middle-aged musicians is, perhaps, less essential than it seems to deem itself, but there are probing thoughts and moments to make it worth sticking with.

Noble and determined, 'Left' proves that while HOTS are capable of stirring thoughts and emotions, it's only when they reach full throttle that they truly move hearts and minds.

An enjoyably kaleidoscopic experience, Better Ghosts pays good homage to its influences but doesn’t strive to do much beyond that.

Perhaps less time spent constructing solid, unremarkable riffs and more spent testing out the percussive qualities of chunks of dead rodent à la Scott might make this album actually exciting. As it is, it’s just adequate.

They may not have been perfect, but Plan B’s prior albums have never been disjointed. Heaven is. But, by his own admission, this is a songwriter in transition.

If anything, on the likes of ‘Warsaw’ and ‘Cards To Your Heart’, it gets too dark, but there’s enough funk in their trunk to ensure that the coffee table crowd won’t be too terrified.

If only because feeling sad isn't as good as feeling happy, this isn't as enjoyable as before.

Clinical and precise rather than mind-blowing, Temper Temper will keep BFMV as a band with one foot in metal and the other in the mainstream, which is exactly where they want to be.

On Ores and Minerals, they ditch the giddy sounds of their early material and adopt a broader palette.