‘Higher Than Heaven’ may not be strictly personal, but it definitely sounds like an album crafted with care, skill and no small amount of flair.

Plastic Hearts finds the pop-star-turned-rock-star going hell for leather – and when Miley Cyrus is at full throttle, it’s an absolute blast. Life has imitated art, and she’s become her very own Ashley O.

The 10 tracks disappear in a brisk 28 minutes, as if to say, ‘Chin up, mate, get on with it’. A heartbreak record--done the British way.

Still shamelessly livin’ it up, with an eyebrow cocked and high kicks galore, ‘The Human Fear’ is – as promised – Franz-y as fuck. You do you, hun; you do it so well.

This debut confidently chronicles every dizzying high and crushing blow that love brings – affairs of the heart have, after all, long been Michaels’ specialist songwriting subject. Most notably, each song is anchored by Michaels’ distinctive one-liners.

Skinner has consolidated everything he’s done before, chucked in where his head’s at now and come up with an album that, while lacking the visceral thrill of ‘Original Pirate Material’, is a minor masterpiece that will mean a lot to a more select bunch of people.

It’s flawed, it’s imperfect and it’s downright odd at points, but it is packed with belting tunes. Most of all, it’s fun.

Seemingly existing on a higher plane, this feels like upended R&B beamed down from outer space, encapsulating everything from the smoothness of Sade to the edginess of Aaliyah.

A bold step forward that sees DMA’s coming into their own, it’s a two-fingered salute to anyone that sneers at the idea of trying something new.

The record has its flaws – the odd misguided lyric, the occasional slip into by-numbers pop melodies – but there’s plenty of space for those mistakes to be made. ... In the end, they are minor bumps in a record of intense beauty, among the best of the Manics’ records this century.

With this vulnerable yet versatile collection, Shakira shows there are no limits to the art of her catharsis through song.

Everybody Down brings to life a plotline that’ll be more fully explored in Tempest’s debut novel, published by Bloomsbury later this year. It’s hard to imagine it being more gripping than this, though.

His sound is furious, muscular and relentless - not to mention camp, dangerous and slightly insane.

A Canadian producer who manages to strike a balance between the sturdy emotiveness of pop and the shimmering beguilement of ambience.

Few More Days To Go seldom offers easy listening or conforms to expectations--but it's easy to tell what Damon and others see in them, and you can expect to hear more from Fufanu.

Despite bringing in all these names to make it an event album, The Blueprint 3 delivers because of hefty beats and quality rapsmanship, nothing else.

The 21-year-old might be trying to shake off any unwieldy labels from critics this time around, but he’s doing so in electric, entertaining and thought-provoking form. Climb aboard McKenna’s space shuttle, and let him transport you to a place where dancing and getting deep are equally encouraged.

Toliver adds a new flavour to his popular sound here, and while the result is a less cohesive record than ‘Heaven Or Hell’, the result is a similarly cosy sonic comfort blanket.

As an instrumental score, fans may miss the clever kitchen sink turns of phrase that have populated Field Music lyrics since 2005’s self-titled debut, but Music For Drifters breaks down the band’s distinctive sound to its raw DNA.

It is all-consuming and consistently impressive from the off.

Although ‘ANTIDAWN’ isn’t by any means an easy listen or an EP made for casual ears, the level of intricate detail and world-building achieved proves that, more than a decade since his arrival, nobody does immersive electronica quite like Burial.

The album Daft Punk should have made. [7 May 2005, p.66]

The new EP by maximalist electronica savant Chris Clark covers yet more new ground while retaining his indelible touch of genius.

‘Ö’ is fast-acting and short-lived, and there is a temptation to wonder how well, in the long-term, it will hold up to repeat listens. To dwell on that, though, would be to misunderstand an album that is about feeling, rather than thinking.

There’s no sense of bet-hedging in its lengthy runtime and no real filler. It’s the sound of an artist in his imperial phase doing as he pleases without needing to try too hard: not just a low-key flex, but a richly entertaining listen.

‘Revelación’ retains the confidence that shone through on her last record.

She’s reminded us exactly why she’s important: she’s a hyper-intuitive artist with a mongrel sensibility who bows to no one.

Every single song breaks new ground for Morris – even the simple title track, which admittedly could have been found down the back of Chris Martin’s sofa.