Architects have made another harmless, inconsequential rock album that’s worth spinning once or twice for curiosity, as there are some decent – dare I say great – moments here.

An ethereal but slightly disappointing album for the masses.

While it still sounds fresh it's still wearing the same threads, still talking in the same voice and moving in exactly the same way.

The album is harmless fun, and the funky, groovy, hook-dominated tracks are impossible to hate.

A bit more focus on expanding the sound, might have created a more encompassing atmosphere at least. So, if you want a handful of new Ministry tunes to head bang to, you can find them here. If not, maybe next time.

...So Unknown is a flawed record, but still a worthwhile one to check out. Underneath its misguided bells and whistles lies a grueling trench of hatred and rage, one that demonstrates Jesus Piece’s capability to pulverize their audience with a sort of backwards grace.

Hella is stuck in the realm of Yowie -- playing with excellent ideas, but too stuck on defining themselves with an all too familiar genre.

Although it's a little inferior to Stars of CCTV, Once Upon A Time In The West is a good album, make no mistake about that.

As usual, Dashboard puts out an album with a couple of very good songs, and a bunch of passable filler. Recommended for fans, but still has nothing on what Dashboard used to put out.

There are more than a few signs that the band will find the middle ground between the music that prospers live and the music that shines on record; Heirs is a frustrating reminder that they’re not there yet.

Barbara is pure We Are Scientists, and in the context of the band's discography, it's hopelessly unoriginal but undoubtedly strong, the kind of record that will either have you tearing out your hair in frustration at a band that showed so much promise or singing along in your car to a CD chock-full of superb sing-a-longs.

It's hard not to inflate the rating of a record with some truly incredible joints, yet it's difficult to ignore the two-thirds filler combined with Ghostface's least complicated rhymes in years.

Kane may have been better served to load up on his under-rated guitar nous, which too fleetingly beguiles on this ultimately promising solo offering.

Fans of the genre will likely find it to be one of the better releases of the year. It seems that Red Sparowes, though, are missing a special part of their sound and it's holding them back from becoming the band they could be and indeed, may well be with a future release.

There is still much to work on for OK Go, but at the very least, the progression on display this time around is rather admirable.

For This We Fought the Battle of Ages doesn’t feel like it surpasses space and time, or bridges a gap between consciousness and dreams. Once it’s over, it’s forgotten fairly easily, save maybe a couple of Vernon’s stronger melodies. It digs its nails into your scalp, but doesn’t truly grab at the psyche.

Once The Black And White Album settles in, and you've figured out which songs to skip, it's as enjoyable as any of their previous albums.

The radical optimist in me wants to commend Magdalena Bay for channelling their myriad inspirations without referential pussyfooting, but they play their theoretically dazzling palette so straight, with such frictionless segues that the bulk of its tracklist pans out as one proverbial thing after another.

Distinguishing themselves from the shadow of Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance and the like without sacrificing too many of the essential elements of their debut album, The Academy Is… have emerged as a band with ambition and the songwriting skill to match.

It's so smooth, this record, that it's sometimes too smooth, to the point to being slight.

When they are on, they are very good, as their relaxing – yet strangely dance-worthy – grooves seem almost effortless. Yet, way too often, the duo simply bite off more than they can chew, meaning that when they are off, a 2nd listen almost seems like a chore.

The interludes don’t do much, while a handful of tunes need a richer structure in order to develop an immersive atmosphere. As a result, Powder Dry is similar to reading pages from a diary, some entries describe full stories while others share only a few scattered thoughts. Nevertheless, I appreciate Tim for discarding all guest appearances and the idea of a comfort zone to truly realize his own vision.

Parallax, unrealised masterpiece or not, sounds like the man in his bedroom with a thousand songs to leave unexplained.

A willingness to wear many hats and Benny Blanco's dreamy production help usher in Selena's best project yet.

Live From The Underground offers nothing game-changing, but is definitely enjoyable (especially on high energy jams like "Yeah Dats Me"), emulating its influences well.

This album is surely a success, its just there is a lot of things that a great album like 'My Life in the Bush of The Ghosts' (which Ghosts sincerely seems indebted to) have that are missing here.

Familial plays its cards remarkably close to the chest, much like Selway's work in Radiohead. Selway never asks for attention, but still receives it through his remarkable consistency and precision.

This remains, however, a good album, and another triumph for Stuart Murdoch.

The success here of being an album worth mention is derived from its encompassment of the past and present Marshall Mathers.

It's safe to say that Darkest Hour are not as good as they used to be--sorry, fans, but The Eternal Return and The Human Romance are both indicators of that. But the band have certainly got their bearings back this year and have made the best album that they possibly could have without Kris Norris.

As a whole, the album is a well-executed pop punk album and shows that Yellowcard are better than the average band.

True to both character and the album’s palette it may be, but it’s far from her strongest statement and fails to carry a set of songs that all too often need a push in the right direction.

The album truly is beautiful within its down tempo setting, and as a soundtrack for the morning after, there’s nothing quite like keeping the lights off and the volume low and simply letting Devotion get you through the day.

Despite the consistency--the one area in which she's improved--it's almost certainly the weakest and most irrelevant album she's produced.

Slaughterhouse hearkens back to the early days of the New York hardcore underground, and it's a travesty that it does nothing more. With commonplace soul-influenced boom bap at the fore, compositions this anachronistic just don't cut it in 2009.

Stroud and Mast are still two of the best beat alchemists around, able to craft layer upon layer of instrument and sounds to brilliant effect, but it still sounds like you've all heard it before. It all leads to LP4 having little identity of its own, with the unfortunate tendency for tracks to blur into one another.

One can't help but feel that Avary's grasp on quality control is waning, with too many of these--admittedly solid and likable--twelve tracks delivering predictable and forgettable results that fail to reach any great heights.

Signed and Sealed in Blood is a pleasant addition to the Dropkick Murphys' discography, but the reliance on their trustworthy, time-tested conservatism is somewhat unfulfilling here.

Filled with fun, catchy, bright & bouncy hooks, they redefined the art of being a guilty pleasure into being a shameful delight!

Basically, Oversteps is solid to chill to. But don't expect to be entertained/enthralled in the slightest.

At the end of things, Morning Phase remains exceedingly lovely but disappointedly insubstantial; not a sea change at all, but just another passing phase in a career that’s made a specialty of them.

With Leveler August Burns Red have reached the limitations of the metalcore rule book that they have been glued to ever since their debut.

Not unlike The Heroin Diaries, their latest effort suffers at times from inconsistency and filler, but at its very best, it’s a collection of highly engaging anthems that accomplish exactly what they set out to do.

Fist of God is very much in step with all the party rage of every other club track album that’s been released in the last year or so--and that’s exactly its problem.

To be fair to the songwriters behind this record, "Make You Cry" is actually the worst thing here - when the sound abandon the '90s and either tries to sound like the '80s ("Heaven" is pure Stock, Aitken, and Waterman), or to be a bit more modern, the quality remains solid. But therein lies the one major flaw of 3 Words - it's simply not consistent enough in terms of sound.

The Radio Dept. are comfortable in their safety, the masters of indie pop/shoegaze fence-sitting, neither here nor there in message or meaning. It’s a stance they’ve refined with each release and Clinging to a Scheme rocks back and forth cautiously over a safety net of the softest cotton, never in any danger of losing its footing in the first place.

The discarded Carrie & Lowell tracks will not disappoint any fans who revere that album and should thus be acquired--independent from the whole album--if need be. As the remixes stand, they’re fairly inoffensive on their own, but will likely not sit well with those who have developed a personal connection to the original cuts.

Their very best songs would see the light and the dark clashing within the same structure, every member's different interpretation of what the band could be fighting for dominance in an exhilarating rush. The major difference on Erase Me is that the two sides are in harmony, cleaned up and smoothed out and repackaged for a digestible listen.

The end result is a mish-mash of styles that leaves this LP somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean at the turn of the millennium.

Whatever's On Your Mind fails to leave much of a lasting impression aside from the hooks and the impressive way the band can make a straightforward pop tune sonically adventurous.

Despite the obvious beauty on display, there’s a thick veil that I just can’t seem to lift in order to fully connect with the work. Try as I might, a good portion of the record seems to roll by its picturesque scenery without causing too much of a stir, with “Capezio” and “Hanging Out” challenging the confidence of my object permanence.

Strangeland is a good but not great album that will be enjoyed by fans of classic Keane, who at this point may reluctantly begin to put down their torches and pitchforks.

While at times angrier and more energetic than Death Cab for Cutie, many songs could be (and are) B-sides of "Plans" or "Transatlanticism."

Overinflated and squealing: it is not more than the sum of its parts. One hundred thousand good ideas, it turns out, are not enough to make an album.

Ab-Soul performs well in this complementary role and shows how versatile he really is, almost a west-coast amalgam of Brown and Kanye West, yet still a slightly weaker and more inconsistent sum than the parts.

By pop standards you could do a lot worse, but ÷ is not an album that will test the ceiling of Sheeran’s tantalizing potential.

It is undeniably a step down from her excellent 2009 release, with too little suiting such a distinctive artist.

It’s not the worst approach they could have taken, but again, there’s nothing super about adhering to the virtues of pop – and in turn, Bonny Light Horseman is a marginally decent record; nothing more.

The pacing of the album is a little more sluggish than normal. It’s clear it was a conscious effort to savour this intergalactic soundscape and add more detail, but it’s aftereffects certainly carry over excess baggage. It’s not a bad album by any means and if you like his work, this will deliver in all the ways you’d expect, but in that regard that’s half the problem.

The compositions are solid, every member brings something to the table and Eddie sings just as passionately as ever. Despite all these, there are only a handful of songs that spark actual emotion or groove at least, whereas the others fail to deliver memorable hooks.

The standout tracks are strong enough to carry the album, which means that it will probably resonate with listeners who don’t mind putting up with lengthy passages of fluff in between those moments of grandeur.

These moments of stepping outside of the indie pop comfort zone are what give Mountaintops a bit of zest, but it's also what makes the album less than a stellar affair.

The Golden Age Of Glitter then, is a subversive record. Things may not be as they appear at various points throughout, but that’s no reason not to give it a go.

Float is rescued from abject tedium by the deep, poetic lure of the subject matter and a couple of genuinely outstanding compositions in ‘Float’ and ‘(No More) Paddy’s Lament.’

Water Curses sits just shy of being worth the price of admission, even if the individual tracks are.

The main problem with In Our Heads is its musical anonymity.

If you despised Sigh No More, then you will find nothing here that even attempts to change your mind. If you found the band's debut to be charming and fun, then Babel is absolutely worth your time and money.

This album is audible therapy, complete with several cuts of Eminem apologizing, taking responsibility for being a terrible rapper, and promising to get better.

Changes is inferior to its predecessor in a lot of ways, but that doesn’t stop it from being a decent album. The most interesting part about this project is it lacks the 101 radio hits he’s so well known for.

At the end of the day, the title Write About Love turned out to be just as bland as the music it pertained to.

Actress is known to be deliberate and, one might argue, almost ponderous in how he paces his work, but AZD is especially bottom-heavy in concept. Like in an adult store, the best stuff is at the back.

While the album also has its fair share of bona fide, looks-like-we-just-broke-the-bottom-of-the-barrel moments ("Fire It Up" instantly comes to mind here), Disturbed manage to do just enough to keep metal purists from dispensing with them completely.

A competent collobarative tape that nevertheless proves that Quavo should stick to Migos and Travis to curating his own albums.

For better or for worse, Torches is a product of the here and now, and who can be mad at Foster the People for seizing it for all its worth? Get it while it lasts, boys.

Nightmare is a completely different offering; even though it still has highly questionable moments, it's obvious that a genuine effort was put in, and that's enough reason to listen.

Odd Blood delivers a series of earworms that are undeniably catchy but leave a legitimate question in their wake: why should we care? Yeasayer ultimately fails to answer this question, and Odd Blood sort of just runs its course unimpressively.

The group have harked back to the more memorable songs in their canon, but this can be interpreted as largely derivative in some quarters.

The Hawk Is Howling is just an ambiguous mixture of the band's past.

Twelve Years might not put Daytrader on quite the same level as recent releases by labelmates Hot Water Music, Cheap Girls, and Sharks but they're well on their way.

Time Team, while displaying shades of true brilliance, is simply an album that doesn't know what it wants to be, and makes the adjustment to compensate for its lack of identity far too late; which is odd, given how well it was doing up until that point.

Whatever they ought to be doing is lost in mess of lame ideas buoyed by big hooks and pop flourishes.

This album's initial impact and discog-relative quality may be nothing short of a wonder, but it only takes a few songs for all-too-familiar snags to make themselves felt. Though the mix places him appropriately low, Corgan is still one of the worst singers in all rock music.

With its return to a more straight-forward approach, ‘This Addiction’ does hark back to the likes of ‘Goddamnit’ and ‘Maybe I’ll Catch Fire’. Unfortunately, while not being a bad album, it is not a patch on those seminal earlier releases…. Simply a solid recycling of their much-loved sound.

It’s an enjoyable ride, I can’t take that away from it, but replayability is slim and it quickly unveils humdrum and vapid songwriting the more you settle yourself into it. As with any album post De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, Daemon serves up another solid dose of black metal that pales next to the album that started it all.

This could well have been a much better album than it is. Still, there's enough here to indicate that Nash's obvious natural flair for songwriting will blossom, and that her fearless voice will only get better with experience.

What ultimately holds Flamingo together is its consistency; a trait which is not exactly synonymous with The Killers. It could be argued that there is not a single bad song included amongst its ten tracks (although it pays not to closely inspect the four bonus cuts included on the Deluxe Edition of the LP) and all are in some way catchy. It makes for a sound and interesting listen, but one which still leaves listeners a little disappointed.

Even with the missteps and occasional ennui, Terrestrials is a welcome merger between two insuppressible forces in the industry today, which should leave us all curious about what their next cloak-and-dagger collaboration will sound like.

While the instrumental mastery still impresses as always, the end result remains enjoyable but ultimately missing a key aspect of what made the driving, mechanical sound of Meshuggah so worthwhile in the first place.

Their debut LP does succeed, however, in meeting the expectations of their target demographic; delivering a consistent batch of ten catchy tracks that waste very little time getting to their contagious choruses.

Sennett's overwhelming perfectionism, his pursuit for the ideal pop song, is just as likely to submerge him in soft rock cliches and painfully obtuse lyricism as it is likely to lead him to an aces country-rock tune that sounds like the best song Fleetwood Mac never made.

While I may appreciate this album despite some of its fundamental flaws, I'm still not exactly clamoring for another Chili Peppers record. As stated before, I'm With You doesn't suggest a future for the band: instead, it showcases one stuck in the mud, capable of churning its wheels but not moving forward.

Bloom has continued making Beach House a Thing in indie music, a band that has a feasible future, that won't be just forgotten and left by the wayside. It's nothing to get excited about.

A mixed bag that gathers the good, the average, and the bad. A melange of familiar echoes which, while not a symphony of destruction, still do enough damage to keep the brand alive and kicking.

These are the blunders we have come to expect from Wayne, but we expect to be compensated for our time with some classic tracks, and on Carter IV, there are none.

As the marginal progression of Waking Up attests, OneRepublic gladly mix things up a little. Unfortunately, whether it be through compromise, confusion or otherwise, they are still to find their consistent sweet spot.

The robust rock songs fall flat, rarely achieving lift off from their rote, chugging origins, while even the band’s worst proggish impulses are neatly trimmed down into manageable four-minutes-and-under transitions and slapped with a typically Trail of Dead-ian name, a middle finger in disguise. Only closer “Sound Of The Silk” really marries the two histories of the band into the kind of complete performance that made Tao of the Dead such a thrilling ride.

It's still a decent addition to Atmosphere's discography, but if you're expecting something on the level of GodLovesUgly or When Life Gives You Lemons..., you may want to look elsewhere first.

On the whole, The Odd Couple has a much more unified atmosphere, but in quality the album is sporadic and unpredictable.