The lack of memorable choruses and melodies is made all the more frustrating by the surprisingly decent production.

It's easy to get lost in the pleasant, euphoric drone, but at 47 minutes the album is more of a marathon than a sprint.

Some of the hunger and electricity he displayed in his pre-prison era seems to have diminished. This is something to tide people over until his next record, not an artistic statement by any means.

It's a solid album, but too conservative to make many converts.

The occasional bright spot (Ghostface's blistering verse on Meteor Hammer) is always counterbalanced by a low point (Trife Diesel's middling turn on Laced Cheeba).

The best tracks are the most pointed, because they go beyond technical style and really delve into each rapper's head.

There's the occasional clever turn of phrase, but MellowHype's brand of vulgarity is subtler and less arresting than Tyler's.

Here I Am concerns itself with the kind of bland, radio-friendly R&B pop that equates sex appeal with self-confidence.

Recorded in various New York studios, it has a live, intimate feel despite its overdubs.

Here, every song tells a little story in which Johnson assumes different perspectives and uses broader instrumentation.

Lots of bands pillage from the pop music canon; few do it with the aplomb of the Horrors.

While Big Sean is a charismatic and occasionally clever rapper, he often fails to dominate the big production elements he rhymes over.

Deep, wobbly bass, twinkling synths, crisp programmed drums and esoteric guest spots by Holly Miranda and Tegan and Sara's Sara Quin seem crafted with blogs in mind, ensuring the album's freshness in the moment but leaving it vulnerable once the hype dies down.

More a lyricist than a singer, he gruffly talk-sings through much of it, making it hard to grab hold of melodies.

Despite interesting bits of psychedelic texture, the album floats around your consciousness without making much of an impression. It's pleasant, but not particularly memorable.

The slick production values and mighty arena-filling guitar and drum sounds will jolt fans of the New York City band's charming lo-fi debut.

If they were a little less self-conscious about their style and more comfortable with being just a good pop band, they'd have a great album in them.

Yes, there are some jazz and soul influences here and a few earnest lyrics, but this is way more dark, futuristic and cutting-edge than you'd guess.

Despite the album title, there's an undercurrent of humour in these songs of loneliness, betrayal and death.

It'd be one thing if the new trio built on the band's legacy. Instead, Yours Truly regurgitates Sublime's 90s ska-punk blueprint and gussies it up with a new layer of radio-ready sheen.

I'm Gay is a rebuke to the purists who complain he can't rap and that his out-there freestyles are basic and unintelligible.

It's the kind of warm summer record you put on without much thought, and that's a large part of its charm.

Mixing punk rock with cute pop, the Atlanta, Georgia, quartet are a fine addition to Slumberland's near-flawless roster.

The choruses are stronger, the harmonies, guitar and banjo lines as tasteful as ever, and the brittle edge that crept into 2003's Soul Journey is nowhere to be found.

The album drowns in atmospherics to the point where it could be entirely instrumental. Greene casts an enjoyably suggestive spell but it wafts right through you.

The only tracks that don't make us cringe are the back-to-basics club bangers likely added to pad out the album, and even those don't contain anything to get excited about. Someone needs to explain to Digitalism that it's way too soon for mid-00s retro.

Often he's trying too hard to be cool, and it's unconvincing. When it does work, the band sounds surprisingly like Broken Social Scene, but with more cowbell.

It's not always the most comfortable thing to listen to, but like the proverbial car crash, it's hard to tear yourself away.