There's certainly nothing here that'll match 'Wonderwall' or 'Live Forever' for pub karaoke ubiquity, but with this record Oasis are at least tentatively stretching themselves in new directions. [28 May 2005, p.61]

Banjo Or Freakout effortlessly mates electronic distortions, low-end theory and achingly gorgeous pop melody – with emphasis very much on the latter.

In a cleaner, more mature, concerned-about-its-blood-pressure manner, Head Carrier revisits Pixies’ prime, primal age, melodically pumped and squaring up confidently to its admittedly formidable forebears.

What should have been a worldly record of peace ends up limping with musical dissatisfaction that outweighs its virtue. [29 Jul 2006, p.31]

Musically, they’ve ripped off swathes of things contemporary and popular to make them ‘hip’, but it just feels like some dodgy old guy at a bus stop telling you he digs Klaxons.

It's just that it all feels so pointless and half-arsed that it's impossible to muster more than an apathetic shrug in judgement.

What stops The Red Album being a great Weezer album, is--for the first time ever--Cuomo’s invitation to his bandmates to sing and write songs too.

His considerable production chops can't disguise that his songwriting too often feels half-formed.

Astounding. [1 Jul 2006, p.36]

Volume 2' is a suite of profoundly unhurried, directionless and pointless noodling, passed off only half-heartedly as some exercise in musical exploration.

The pedestrian half of 'Encore' only serves to underline how awesome the other half is. [20 Nov 2004, p.53]

It sounds very pleasant.

Swoon is a bit of a dying whale of a record. In a good way; vast, dark, a little mysterious, sad, dignified and palpably in pain.

The spontaneous sounding arrangements--topped by Watson's uniquely mercurial voice--are at turns ornate, grand and subtle, but never less than totally bewitching.

Only 17-minute finale 'Friendly Society' wears thin, its ideas forced and spread too thinly across clunky sub-sections. The rest, though, is languidly atmospheric, peaking with the moonlit disco jam of 'Sideways Glance'.

Pacific Daydream is all carefree, expertly crafted pop, free of irony and all the better for it. Lock the doors, crack open a cold one, and enjoy an endless summer with Weezer.

A so-so album which suggests it may be time for Ms Fenty to take a holiday.

‘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.

Jay-Z has upped the commercial rap ante once again.

As a whole, though, the album’s overall feel is still deadeningly generic.

De Martino and White are on an unashamed mission to make perfect pop, but seem to have treaded the path too literally.

At less than two minutes, many of the songs remain as sketches neither punchy enough to work as snotty punk songs nor ever developed into anything more.

‘Even In Arcadia’ shatters any pressure of expectation into oblivion, building on the bravery of its predecessor, sonically, while its lyrics reveal the most exposed version of Vessel we’ve seen yet. From Eden to Arcadia – and beyond – let the worship continue.

Computer Controlled Acoustic Instruments Pt 2--don’t go looking for a part one, you won’t find it--sounds like it’s on its own strange course.

When the disparate influences mesh properly--as on the irresistible ‘Fool You’ve Landed’--they find a very happy medium.

Reality Check stands as a fun, frank and startlingly perceptive debut that surprises for all the right reasons.

Her choice of collaborators is piss-poor, and as every vocal snarl and heartfelt croon is wilfully blanded-out by the musos and their sterile embellishments, we might as well be listening to The Corrs.

A mildly diverting collection of the good (DJ Cam, Model 500), bad (Beth Orton, Mary Margaret O'Hara) and pleasantly forgettable (Dubtribe Sound System, Ananda Project).