Four albums later and it's more of the same, minus the big hooks.

It's a record of rare precision; the kind that comes from figuring out exactly what you want. The kind that comes from being all grown up.

Avoid this tosh at all costs.

For the most part, his rasping punk is a sexy but grotty treat.

Mvula’s keenly awaited debut record is ornate, gentle and clearly composed by someone with vast musical training. So it’s a shame that so much of it sounds lightweight and shallow.

While Cox is no stranger to gut-spilling, it feels as poignant as ever on this record.

OK, at Disneyland. Yes, on drugs.

Ghostface calls upon most of the remaining Clan members, switches the formula occasionally and hey presto, yet another minor Wu-Tang classic 20 years on from their debut.

The musical results feel more like a touristy package holiday through Jamaican dub history.

It's still party music, but for a different kind of party.

Head for Home if you want to hear where drum'n'bass, dubstep, garage and old-school jungle meet in 2013, but really just pick it up if you're looking for more bangers than a barbecue at a firework factory.

Ultimately the confusion and convolution is all part of the charm on this adventure into a world of history and imagination. It doesn't hit the peaks of 'Stainless Style', but is still a record worth investing time in.

It's impressive that singing about the careless abandon of life seems as natural as ever for him, even as he hurtles towards 70.

Simply put, Strokes have every quality rock'n'roll requires from its finest exponents and Is This It is where they come together.

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'.

It'll never be your favourite album, but you'll wish your adolescence sounded as carefree as this.

Despite the surreal subject matter Johnston's soundtrack for his own comic book is romantic and deeply human.

That's not to say this is a bad record, just one that's clearly in love with pop music, and one that'll require another leap of faith from the band's hardcore fanbase.

At the moment, her music is best consumed in blog-sized chunks, not as a stodgy 48-minute album.

An intensely personal record, the process of listening to the dozen tracks here is as intimate--and sometimes as uncomfortable--as reading pages ripped straight from Frank's diary.

Phoenix are no '80s copycats, but they occupy a sweet spot where influences and their own flashy banks of synths and treated guitars sound meaty and perfect together.

Despite some misfires--notably 'Blue Neck Riviera', which features a strange programmed hip-hop beat and a Diiv-style jangle accompanied by some semi-rapped verses--it's an admirable listen.

Clearly fed with water from a pool full of wide-reaching influences, Mind Control is a record that reveals more about itself with every listen.

Wayne's 10th studio album sees memory of his charisma and sparkle during that mid '00s era fade further.

it's largely a successful experiment, with sumptuous keyboard melodies and live drum breaks replacing the heaped samples of old.

At times, there's the sense Tyler's charisma outweighs his content, and as such it's probably up to Earl to deliver the group's first bona fide hip-hop classic.

It's eclectic, but the linking thread is insistent dancehall beats and a sense of dumb, colourful fun.

A confusing, intriguing record, then. Not their strongest, but there's a transition underway.