Though this isn't Maserati at their finest hour, it shows the engine is still running and possesses a lot of potential too. Their universe expanded with VII and Rehumanizer successfully brings all those influences together.

Hurley proves that Rivers still has some gas left in the tank.

There is a savvy depth evident throughout ‘The Family Jewels’ which simply cannot be ignored; fun, serious, poppy and unorthodox, it is an album full of contradictions, but one which rarely fails to entertain.

Drastic Fantastic achieves success due to its near-perfect composition and construction.

Basically, Black Clouds & Silver Linings is an album that continues the band’s increased use of metal riffs combined with extended musical interludes but also brings in strong compositional skills that give the songs the kind of consistency they require in order to be truly memorable and engaging.

Basically, fans of In Flames' last four albums are sure to find plenty to enjoy on Sounds of Playground Fading as it is easily better than a lot of what they've done recently, but it could have been so much more if the vocals could be anything more than adequate.

Chasing Yesterday is crammed full of natural sounding songs by a man who has only ever known one way of making music, and long may it continue.

It has moments of genius (‘Grand Canyon’, ‘The Remedy’) as well as questionable missteps (‘Simultaneous’).

It’s too much. As much as I enjoy the solid starts a la “Monochrome” and “The Double Helix of Extinction” there’s a lot of filler and needless over indulgence in the form of gimmick.

Poppy seems to be restrained here – as if something is holding her back from embracing her typically wild and unconventional whims. Next time, I hope she grabs that sword and cuts herself free of whatever led to this.

What can be viewed as a weakness can also be seen as a strength, and for the most part one can conclude that The Chair in the Doorway is a successful return to form.

E S T A R A is not as strong an album as Ardour, not as surprising because it couldn’t possibly be. But in its own, attenuated, scattered-birds way, this album is everything we could have hoped for.

It’s a pleasantly relaxed portrait of a band kicking back and stretching its legs.

There’s rarely a song here that isn’t beautiful: Fortino’s sense for gorgeous melodies, both instrumentally and vocally, simply shines throughout.

It is without a plan and without much of an aim, save for vague touchstones in ‘80s pop and new wave, a path tread much more smoothly by Casablancas’ prior solo work.

At only 28 minutes long, Lysandre is easily digestible in a single sitting, but that really just embellishes its true purpose--to temporarily whet our appetites till all those other Christopher Owens solo records appear.

With its terrible lyrics, uninspired and generic music and general sense of boredom, the only positive to glean from the wreckage was at least it couldn't get worse.

This is Merritt in designer mood, playing with layers and music. The joy is found in watching it take shape.

Everything about Father of All Motherfuckers is lazy. It begins with the self-referential American Idiot album cover, which features a unicorn exhaling/vomiting rainbows whilst forcefully blowing flames out of its ass. The music is befitting of said artwork, as even the staunchest fan would have an aneurysm trying to figure out what the hell these guys were thinking on this one.

Remarkably devoid of pretensions, Free Your Mind is a dance record boiled down to its most essential, body-shaking elements, and the purest distillation of Cut Copy’s music and their ethos yet.

Strange Desire is perhaps the fullest-sounding and most charismatic indie-pop album you’ll hear this year, just in time to become the defining sound of your summer.

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.

Disappointingly, Our Version of Events, with the exceptions of "Heaven" and "Daddy", is as flimsy and mushy as they come.

While the album’s too inconsistent in style to be considered a successful change of pace for the group, it’s at least a promising sign of things to come.

Volume Three can’t flourish under the force of her considerable personality or Ward’s craftsmanship, because the latter has been deadened and the former is unwilling to break the illusion.

X is a vapid and overly confident album that feels more like regression than progression for Ed Sheeran's indie folk sound.

The end result is that even when stumbling across an interesting idea, Francis botches it by coming off as childish, attention-seeking and occasionally repulsive.

The ideal summer soundtrack. It is charismatic, warm, and sexy, with just the right touch of mystique.