Carrying features stellar glockenspiel work and a beautiful chorus, but uncharacteristically poor drumming and a gaudy ragtime piano solo. Perhaps the most damning indictment is that the worst songs are all similar enough to blend into each other.

With Ha, Ha, He., they have refined that formula [of the self-titled debut] further, sharpening up the edges of their sound and ultimately delivering a superb record.

There are no compromises to be reached, and that's what makes No One Can Ever Know such an authoritative listen.

Like 2003’s Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts, Before the Dawn is commendable for its almost obsessive attention to detail that has produced a collection of gorgeously layered and dense songs without ever sounding laboured.

It's difficult to judge a soundtrack separate from the production. But even without the visuals, Lazarus is still worth a listen or two. The performances range from solid to great, and the covers of these classics are often fresh.

Simply put, it's far too repetitive, especially considering its short length, and even on repeated listens tracks seem impossible to tell apart--particularly, after the strong opening provided by Welcome, the run of Apart, Motion and Expect all sound pretty much the same.

This brief collection of tracks shows growth and expansion whilst maintaining the addictive pop elements and retro recording style that made us fall in love with I Will Be.

Only a few songs ('Beyond Here Lie’s Nothin’,' 'Shake Shake Mama,' and 'I Feel a Change Comin’ On') really jump out of the grooves and the rest sounds like our greatest living songwriter coasting a bit--which is a whole lot better than not giving a shit ("Self Portrait") or flailing around aimlessly (pick an 80s record).

The truth is that No Joy is unadulterated, all-surrounding sound.

New Moon shows The Men, who have always been admired for their ability to pull such diverse influences but held back for their lack of originality, expanding their horizons and coming into their own.

Perhaps ... the best way to describe Boys & Girls: unwilling to innovate or add anything new to its genre, preferring to remind us of the roots of rock instead of showing us what made the pioneers so great, a reminder of a past love instead of a new love for us to discover.

Repetition is considered their weakest strength, which isn't true at all--they introduce shrill synth textures and dub elements with a good understanding of technique. It does add the slightest variation to their acerbic post-punk, all rendered with a cheerful stance even if there’s an apparent loss of rage. Still, this party feels less exciting than the night before.

There’s enough here to please die-hard fans.

This only falls flat when you want more - and that aside, Belong really is a good album.

Cooder’s playing is sometime perfectly suited for the project, but other times seems horribly out of step with Mavis’ intention.

To an extent, it may sound like just another day at the office for Sunn O))). Nevertheless, this team-building exercise is still more compelling than whatever employee engagement activity your day job offers.

The major problem is that this doesn’t sound like a band that’s pushing itself any more, or at least not making the same sort of pushes that lead to the brilliant sucker-punch of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and the vastly underrated A Ghost Is Born.

In their dramatic interplay they find their lust for perversion and compulsion, as if exploring the infinite degrees of their relationship with the same piquant allure of Gainsbourg and Birkin (albeit less warm and more interpersonally brittle).

The old tricks have lost their potency, and without them, the rage and Williamson’s endless torrent of expletives sound increasingly tragic.

She’s made some phenomenal music in her career and a handful of songs on The Tortured Poets Department are welcome additions to her canon. These are sadly outnumbered by bland filler and compromised by an overwhelming sense of stasis.

The Wytches mesh of sound is the musical embodiment of sixties surf dressed in severe Halloween costumes, and their ability to turn such agitation into something that is, against all odds, listenable, is a testament to this band’s grasp on their own sound.

Themes of alienation and heartbreak are set against sweeping guitar hooks, handled with a well-studied attention to craft that takes cues from bands like Wolf Parade and Modest Mouse. A wise template to base their potent anthems on.

For the most part, Birding follows the Cocteau Twins template to a tee, seemingly daring listeners and critics alike to find a better descriptor than the all-too-obvious ‘ethereal’. But deary are smart enough to inject some variety, which they achieve by incorporating heavier, almost explosive passages.

MØ might have just released the freshest, most joyful pop record of 2014 (even if we heard most of it in 2012-3).

Iit’s hard to parse the logistics behind their songwriting, but there’s a tasteful equilibrium at hand even if each member brings out their own peculiarities.

Circuital makes it clear that we are dealing with My Morning Jacket post-metamorphosis. From a provocative indie/country/blues band with exceptional vocals, witty lyrics, and a stellar band, MMJ has found prime real estate on the premise of becoming a commercial parody of themselves.

It’s nowhere near as annoying, despite my physically manifest aversion to it, but it definitely is not trying to please you, or make you comfortable, or even happy in any way.

Whether it’s a one-off project or a fleeting affair for all parties involved remains to be seen, though for the time being, the band’s gift for impromptu creativity has served them well.