Sleep Mountain isn’t entirely unenjoyable; its two main crimes are that it’s too safe with its simple chord patterns and unimaginative riffs, and that it’s too in thrall to the records that have inspired it.

Snaith is able to hold onto his Caribou identity despite the new techno influences. His new album Swim reaffirms the supreme artistic capability that is Caribou.

There is absolutely nobody in the world but hardcore Apples in Stereo fans that need to hear Travellers in Space and Time, it's a record as slight as they come.

In what was already an inane, washed-up concept to begin with, P&A fail to enlighten by opting to deliver trite lyrics and characterless humor for their own amusement. Evidently, consciousness suits them better.

A four-year wait is inexcusable, especially when more than half of the album exudes familiarity.

The implication is that there was some kind of journey involved in getting from Point A to Point B in Trans Am’s spaceship of Douglas Adams-worthy quirks. But after twelve tracks totaling a brief-seeming thirty eight minutes, and despite some interesting routes, it feels like we’ve barely left the launch pad.

Too much of Weathervanes is unnecessary fluff. Of the album's 13 tracks, three are wordless moments of focus-less, meaningless noise and at least three other songs could have been trimmed down by a few minutes.

None of the songs are good enough as growers or deep tracks to hold up the album.

Ultimately, The Wild Hunt's stumbles are too little to mask what could be Matsson's finest hour. He may act as if he's the tallest man on earth, but he may very well literally be a talent of Goliath proportions.

What is frustrating about Junior is King's obvious talent. It is clear that this is a woman capable of a level of musicianship most artists can't achieve, yet she seems unable to do anything more with it than repeat a few good ideas with diminishing returns.

And Then We Saw Land isn’t a bad album, it just doesn‘t grab you.

It's a solid album throughout, with satisfying builds and a cacophony of beautifully symphonic music.

In honesty, a whole album of perfectly-executed retro soul can be a little wearing, but the craftsmanship carries it through, and the sheer joy of hearing a band go against the grain in the way that this band do, makes I Learned the Hard Way fully deserving of your time.

Hippies is a no-frills garage-rock record that is fun and energetic, and the utter lack of pretence is a breath of fresh air in this era of overproduced corporate drivel.

Combining 60s girl pop and 70s garage pop with the lo-fi mist that, admittedly, shares common ground with bands like Wavves, Vivian Girls and No Age, Dum Dum Girls come up with a very relevant and heartwarming throwback.

As a longtime fan of Usher, this album has great moments and also lagging tunes.

This isn’t political, but it is personal, comical, sad, satirical, intelligent and refreshingly honest.

Enter Wu-Massacre a fun, but mostly forgettable affair that comes from three of the clan’s most prominent members; (Ghostface, Raekwon, Method Man) and for the most part ends up being little more than good-natured fan service.

NonStopErotik lives and dies on your particular hunger for music like this in 2010. If you love what Francis has done over the span of his solo work, (and to a lesser extent, if you love the Pixies) you’ll find just enough in the album to merit a listen or two. If you only have a passing interest, it’s probably not worth your 45 minutes.

The narratives it employs are true to life, the reverb drenched instrumentation was rightfully summoned, and the substitution of dark undertones over lighter sensibilities that such genre was commonly known for were ditched with good reason. No wonder Slumberland has wholeheartedly embraced Black Tambourine's influence to their label. That's good enough reason to bring another of independent music's long forgotten cult stories into the forefront.

Where Volume One was strongest was simply the quality of the songs (try getting Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? out of your head in a hurry), yet there’s something sadly lacking about Volume Two, and what previously sounded like finely-crafted homage is now often more like impotent pastiche.

Good as a heartbreak-balm, an above-average way to spend a night in bed or just something to dance with your special lady / man / whatever to, Love is All's latest proves that they can be counted on to bring quality pop, no matter what.

This is their most assured, confident release to date and though it may not take the place of fan-favourite, it certainly deserves to be considered as the best introduction to Autechre’s oeuvre.

Recalling only bits of their awkward past-flirtations with electro-pop, this new material feels ripe with a formative momentum that only occasionally misses the mark (the elementary musings behind On a Hill in a Bed on a Road in a House, we can do without).

Abyss isn't a failure--their audacity to upend themselves, contriving each and every step of the way with an expansive sound that masks away the more attention-grabbing arrangements is worthy. Props to them for sounding like everyone else and no one else at the same time.

The band still has the muscle to match its mileage.

Ultimately, like many live albums before them and certainly after them, it's just okay. It succeeds in capturing a performance that is an apt representation of the band and is largely an aural pleasure, yet you never really shake the fruitless nature of the album.

The whole thing works beautifully, more with each listen.