Rebirth is – without qualification – the most embarrassing album of the last 10 years. Embarrassing for him, for his audience, for rap, for humanity.

N Jo’s fan base doesn’t care about calculation. They’re just the right age to buy into the workmanlike quasi-genuine rock of Who I Am. And there’s still enough of that original Jonas flavour to keep them interested.

Admirable attempts are made to emulate tourmates Lymbyc Systym on Blank Pages, but they fall short of that band’s visceral energy and edge.

It may not be earth-shattering, but it’s doubtful this album will ever sound dated.

It’s exhilarating, cheeky, Pavement-influenced indie rock that’ll leave you exhausted – and maybe anxious – by track 15.

By tightening things up, another sprightly highlight emerges from this pleasant haze.

If the term “ambient house” hadn’t already been taken by the Orb in the late 80s, it would be a good way to describe this; we’ll just call it really good stoner dance music instead.

Banjo, flugelhorn, tuba, cajón, accordion and tablas all prop up Stephin Merritt’s distinctive bass and dry-humoured lyrics, which, fans will be glad to know, remain in top form.

The album, her best to date, would've worked better had she dived into the sea of sadness instead of dipping her toe in from song to song.

This career-spanning retrospective helps put Fucked Up’s unlikely critical-darling status in perspective, and serves as a handy catch-up tool for those who’ve come to the party late.

Wisely, he doesn’t sing this time around, leaving that to Kenna and Phonte of Little Brother. But the tracks with guest vocals never really take off either, reinforcing the producer’s weakness as a songwriter.

Lyrically, Daniel is more vulnerable than on previous efforts--transference being a part of psychoanalysis--but not enough that he takes many new creative turns.

It turns out that while he’s been working on these absurdly long stoner dance tracks, he’s also been holed up in the studio with vocalist Christabelle working on this amazing album of more concise material.

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.

Ezra Koenig's songwriting is effortless and breezy, and the Afropop rhythms are as strong as ever.

With summer so far away, this record’s only downside is that it lacks a hit song to help it last until July.

That said, there are plenty of catchy moments. Beat-wise, Boots & Boys--a song about what brings her joy--is incredibly well constructed. If only the insipid lyrics were left off completely.

Being out of control is a hallmark of Wayne’s style and what’s made him impossible to ignore for the last two years. In this crew, only Minaj’s paying attention.

The band’s trademark solemnity and repetitive downtempo styles prevail in the final three tracks, making you feel like you’re treading in a swimming pool of honey--in a good way.

While R&B artists clamour for synth-heavy, layered production by The-Dream, Danja and Jim Jonsin, Keys proves a hit album can still be made using conventional means.

The wrong turns don’t sink the album but steer it into an awkward middle place unbefitting the talented group behind the wheel.

He’s stepped outside of his comfort zone of Long Beach City-inspired beats, and the result is his best offering in years.

Mix this lovable simplicity with brilliant guest turns by Cam’ron, Lil Wayne and Rick Ross, amazing production by the Runners and Bangladesh, and Gucci’s exhilarating turns of phrase, blunt humour and excess charisma and you’ve got rap’s album of the year.

At its best, Untitled sounds like a compilation of his previous work--a smooth-voiced crooner reading a sex thesaurus over R&B beats.

While some of his New Orleans ilk have strayed from the region’s classic bounce sound, the lead-off title track assures us that the same old Juve is in the mix.

Musically it’s a gloriously tacky mix of dance pop and hair metal, and we mean that in the best way possible....The only problem is that he doesn’t go far enough, likely the result of the label trying to tone down his flamboyance.

Rihanna is at her most adventurous, and while we're not completely convinced that all the wailing hard rock guitars suit her, the aggression makes sense within the context of the album.

The 17 tracks emphasize the latter half of his career, but he’s toned down his more avant-garde tendencies somewhat and injected a bit of R&B swing and jazz vibes.