Not as good as we were hoping, but still strong enough to make us excited about the next chapter.

There's not enough doo-wop or doom on much of the material, and their willingness to get far too goofy with the lyrics and delivery gives the sense that they're not taking the project seriously.

It's a quick, occasionally dirty and sweetly affecting collection of ballads about ill-fated romance, the Bay City Rollers and letting go of love.

Their records are blueprints laying out a basic architecture to be improved upon, expanded or subverted when the band plays live. Big Boat offers glimpses of the group's playfulness.

His arrangements sometimes outshine his melodies and lyrics, though. Whereas the first album packed an emotional wallop, the enjoyment of this one is in its details.

While the songwriting is more varied here than on previous LPs (Shapiro sometimes causes rather than experiences heartbreak), the pop hooks don’t always ascend to the maximal sound they aim for.

Nine Black Alps are definitely louder and more aggressive than many of their Britrock counterparts, but that's really nothing to boast about.

And though her voice is strong enough to carry the tracks, most of the time it’s needlessly strained. Memorable as these songs may be, they could use a good kick of grit to truly set them in motion.

Ultimately, though, the comp is uneven, and it's difficult to determine the intended audience; fans likely already own these songs.

It’s all very lush and fabulous, but also restrained and calculated to the point of coldness. If that’s intentional, they’ve pulled it off, but not necessarily to the album’s benefit.

All the more frustrating is the fact that Ghost’s guest verses on the new Raekwon album are stone-cold incredible. Clearly, he can still rap, but only when his audience isn’t looking.

Sure enough, this record brings to mind airbrushed vans flying through Day-Glo galaxies firing lasers at dragons, with no interest in any notions of good taste. Having said that, it fucking rocks.

It’s not a complete washout; there are indeed some promising moments. Unfortunately, none of them get developed enough to compensate for the bland­ness of the rest of the album.

Still, while we wait for a pop saviour to take the genre forward, Chromeo provide a nice enough tribute to its past.

For the most part, this collection is a great addition to the band’s oeuvre.

Regrets take on new meaning knowing the background, but they're also just plain fun, and no amount of misfortune can change that.

LP4 hints at the band's potential. The mildly weirder arrangements and quirkier synth twists on Party With Children are signs of what they should have fully run with.

9th Wonder can now give the BDI Emcee his top-batch beats since being disowned by Little Brother, so a multitude of satisfying soul-inflected thumpers grace The Formula.

The album is stylistically restless, jumping from power pop to 60s-inspired ballads, with dashes of disco, 80s dance music and klezmer squeezed in.

Hard-driving Helen Marnie-sung tune Melting Ice, meanwhile, is surely Ladytron's steely attempt at self-aware irony.

The L.A./Paris musician has a voice reminiscent of Owen Pallett’s and tends toward cutesy (see aforementioned Gallop). But these cloying idiosyncrasies are stirring on darker songs like Canter Canter and the title track.

It's a cool premise, but despite the ambition and guest musicians on each song, Sonic Highways sounds like every other Foo Fighters record.

His ambition is never entirely realized, and though his voice is versatile, his almost operatic style at times borders on annoying.

It's a record full of straight-up good songs from a band that should be (and would be, except for Doherty's fuckery) much more important than it is.

A few songs are too long and self-indulgent (Do You Want What I Need, Hold Me), but the fuzzy synths, minor-key melodies and subtle worldy percussion make it very easy listening on the whole.

No doubt they know to bury weaker material; the last few songs are less memorable.

A sleepy stretch of mediocrity that unfolds with lackluster monotony, Two Thousand once again fails to live up to the potential suggested by their One Time Bells debut.

A solid offering that could have been improved by swapping some of the remixes for the originals.