The record has a strong holiday flavour, so if you’re the type who gets nauseated by reindeer talk in March, maybe wait till December to play this.

Tensnake mostly favours brisk tempos, though the sultry ballad 58bpm makes you wish he slowed the pace more often.

It isn’t until album closer Spring Fever that you get a sense of how much further the band could’ve pushed the experimentalism.

They certainly keep up appearances on their 15th album, their troubles not for a second interfering with these 11 songs, the longest of which lasts three minutes and 41 seconds.

Not amazing, but steady and fun all the same.

The Ween/Animal Collective/early-Beck thing works on Don’t Go Phantom and You Cried Me, but you have to stomach Jookabox’s tendency to chipmunkify their voices. Still, both tracks are enjoyably balanced.

White-reggae lovers haven't got a lot to latch onto here, since from the first strums of opener Mountain Top, Soundclash appear to be taking a welcome leap into a Vampire Weekend-type indie vibe.

Caracal is consistently good but also feels manicured and safe.

The album as a whole drags a little. But the softness of Kline’s vocals and the instrumentation anchoring her lyrics and stories make up for it.

It’s just the sort of gently strummed, sweetly harmonized and vaguely familiar-sounding pop music replete with quirky lyrical turns that is designed to make indie-rock-obsessed music hacks swoon. And they will.

Ultimately rewarding for indie enthusiasts up for a challenge, Offend might leave more pedestrian listeners scratching their heads.

Despite a few tripped-out pop gems, the album is largely what you'd expect to hear after gazing into Moss's glassy eyes: a classic sound but not a classic record.

The patient, thoughtful strokes here are sometimes interesting but rarely exciting.

Too bad the most inspired songs are all stacked together on the first half; the record loses steam halfway through.

[The album] is not in the same league as his magnificent 2004 debut, Get Lifted. But Love In The Future, boasting production and writing credits by Kanye West, still has plenty of beautiful moments.

It's not what anyone is hoping for from Harry, but the highlights are decent enough to keep hardcore Blondie fans satiated until she finds some collaborators worthy of her talent.

Though not nearly as stunning as its predecessor, Infestissumam still has excellent moments, many courtesy of the rhythm section.

The lyrics are vivid and occasionally rote in their romanticism, but the formlessness of Endless is deceptive.

It's nice to hear De La Soul stretching themselves creatively, and even the less successful detours are interesting additions to an already eclectic catalogue.

The eerie voice blend still sends the occasional chill up the spine, and their songwriting continues to capture the painful earnestness of youth, but it all feels a bit staged.

Turns out they’re adept at sad, moody ambience. Wish they tried it a little more often.

His latest, Love in Beats, is his most seamless collision yet. That harmony is thanks to the unified vision that comes with having two producers on the project: Omar and his brother Scratch Professor.

Subtlety isn't the band's forte, but they sure know how to make an ostensibly stripped-down rock song enormous.

It's a disappointing underachievement.

10,000 Days sounds messy and poorly paced.

It's obvious Morrison was going for an early-50s throwback vibe, complete with oohing chorus singers and a forthright pedal steel twang, but it comes off more like a western-exotica caricature than the genuine article.

Blake's songs are built around a single typically melancholic lyric and melody that he works over, kind of like an R&B singer, while gradually switching stylistic gears.

There's no grand resolution on Tired Of Tomorrow, but you can't help but hope Palermo finds some peace in all the noise. That's what making noise is for.