A disquieting atmosphere is conjured by both the constant shifts in tempo and Niblett’s emotionally naked lyrics, while ’s naturalistic production deepens the album’s near-menacing intimacy.

London quartet Good Shoes offer little to get flustered over with this sometimes dire, but mostly mediocre second album.

They’ve possibly succeeded in alienating the casual fan with the brief moments of nastiness that are here.

There are just too many ideas for a first encounter. The good ones are special, no doubt, but a lot of the others are just other people's and lack the stamp of a band who know exactly who they are and what they're about.

Their seventh album, might be one of their best, with the band and leader Britt Daniel sounding as energised and playful as a puppy

You’ll find Eels’ most revealing, autobiographical work-to-date to be the most beautiful break-up record since Beck’s ‘Sea Change’.

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.

The Betrayed plays to their strengths in that it sounds more like the work of blue-quiffed CGI-animated ninja warriors than real people with wrinkles.

It's fair to say that with so much going on 'Contra' is much less immediate than its predecessor, requiring a bit of patience to uncover its true shades, contours and charm. But it's certainly worth sticking with, because with their second album Vampire Weekend have escaped their collegiate niche without sacrificing their true essence.

All 13 of the tracks here sound nothing like their much parodied clip. It’s just that sadly, branching out isn’t a good thing for them.

There’s no denying that Heartland is an overflowing well of musical creativity that leaves you feeling like you’ve missed something crucial if you let your attention drift. But the array of sounds can smother the songs.

Here is a winsome, lady-driven response to the wood-chopping likes of Midlake, Fleet Foxes and My Morning Jacket that remains refreshingly sweet.

Beneath the patina of skeezy Freshers’-Week-LOLZ lyrics (“got a water-bottle of whiskey in my handbag”) lies a talent.

Stripped of all the sonic flotsam that usually surrounds them, Animal Collective come into their own--if you can ignore the chatter to listen with innocent ears, they surpass ‘good’ and remain bewildering.

Never quite hitting the peak of "Hell..." they walk a fine line here between fame-hungry thugs--something that ill-fits them--and existential thinkers with the “intellect of Einstein” and a fondness for sonic dissonance.

Nothing quite fits, giving the impression that this material wasn't good enough for the guest artists' own albums.

Radric Davis is deeply flawed, and ultimately Gucci has committed the worst crime in rap: he’s boring.

It’s not Hudson’s foghorn bellowings that are the real enemy on this record, it’s that motherfucking computer program [Auto-Tune].

They’re out of step, out of time, out of place, and have completely gone off on one in their own strange little world; as such, there’s much to admire about The Bravery. Just never go down to Endicott’s basement.

The album feels genuinely organic, a common ground of moods rather than a forced fusion.

We’re pleased to report that her third English-sung studio effort is as nutty as ever; combining Neptunes-esque beats with flamenco, post-punk riffs, synths, Arabian strings, gongs and disco.

Despite the abundance of male influence on the record, from ex-boyfriend to songwriters to producers to mentors, Rihanna makes the sound her own, and fights back.

'Poker Face,' pretty much the one song 2009 will be remembered for, are included on the original album, this becomes essential for anyone who even remotely likes pop. For the rest of us, it's the moment Gaga cements herself as a real star.

The more you delve into it the less you find, because it’s all affectation.

The lead single has been switched more times than a Sugababes member and the tracklisting has been mercurial. But, oh boy, was it worth the wait.

Submissive this is not.

This is The Cribs’ best album to date.