Although they might be lacking teats, their creative juices are nevertheless overflowing.

Revelations wants to be unlistenable, but it can’t always hide Shamir’s songwriting strengths.

Though it boasts hard-hitting moments (see the supple uppercut of ‘Been A While’ and the dizzying double-jab of the JME-featuring ‘Call the Shots’), this sequel lacks the punch of its predecessor.

The little dude is a poet. Still, at a relatively lean 30 minutes, it’s hard to argue this is a heavyweight album.

Raymond V Raymond finds the singer in an emotional headspin, and when he channels it here he produces some of his darkest and most hypnotic soul-pop to date. But sadly there’s quite a bit of forgettable bravado babble too--hardly original.

Overall, SY fail to get into their groove between twisted, brutalised melody and spastic six-string experimentalism.

As a whole, Meteorites fails to set the sky on fire.

Despite its delivery, Kamikaze is very resolutely an old-fashioned album: 45 minutes and 13 tracks long.

Musically, the album hits in all the right spots, solidifying their expertise at penning sunny, earnest Radio 2-core. And when they deviate from the easier path, most notably on the slow, deeply sombre ‘Strange Room’, which sees Chaplin’s voice take on a genuinely affecting, downtrodden lower tone, ‘Cause and Effect’ begins to exist as more than a comeback album for the sake of a comeback album.

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

Far goes some distance to halt a slide into mere radio-friendly pleasantness, though.

Every track here follows the same pattern over identical lackadaisical rhythms, her vocals never rising beyond a low-slung murmur with most of the lyrics drawing the same conclusion: she’s bored.

As a pop product, the album performs its function--and it’s commendable of Minogue to experiment with a different sound. It’s just a shame to hear a pop queen like Kylie seeming to buy into tacky generic artifice because it happens to be in vogue.

OCD Go Go Go Girls is, as ‘Think’ was, simply an imperfect heads-up for Lovvers’ live skills.

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.

Tiersen never loses touch with his innate sense of melody, but the lack of edge means that Infinity's charms are, in fact, finite.

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.

'Nation' is not bad - it's taut and tense and if you buy it quick you'll get to hear their logic-defying cover of Bauhaus' 'Bela Lugosi's Dead'. But it's hard to reconcile 'Nation''s obsession with the scourge of globalisation with Sepultura's conversion from third world pioneers to just another angry hardcore band.

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

The Earth, Wind & Fire-sampling ‘It’s Sunny’ is too cheesy, and ‘Aye Muthaf***a’ slips in some Rihanna-style dancehall beats, but elsewhere TLC offers a familiar mix of breezy R&B tunes and folky self-acceptance jams.

A slick offering, Rented World is let down by a tendency to veer towards the formulaic, evidenced by closing track, ‘When You Died’, an altogether too tepid acoustic tear-jerker.

But if attempting to dress ancient monuments in radical, avant-garde clothing was always going to be a hit-and-miss project, he's still succeeded for the most part in making a richly ambient, evocative record from apparently staid and stale old material.

The record doesn’t feature a bunch of seminal tracks, instead packing filler between his knockout singles such as ‘First Class’. You’ll find a gem or two here and there, but this collection’s longevity is questionable.

A few more like ‘College’ and ‘Figured It Out’, with their emotional weight and memorable choruses, and they’d be onto something.

[Lemmy's] voice is a bit croakier these days, but the band’s riffs are as pummeling and unforgiving as ever.

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 misogyny of Tha Carter V cheapens its moving moments.

‘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.