Every once in a while, Myself In The Way’s commitment to boringness leads to some Nice Music.

S/T is a valiant try by a band that has a strong history of trying, but it’s neither an impressive return to form, a nostalgic trip back to 90s emo, nor is it a breakthrough in Rainer Maria’s sound, it mostly just exists.

The disc is hook laden but the hooks are bland. The rapping is heartfelt but forgettable and, 'So Far To Go,' easily the highlight of the album, is actually a track of J Dilla's posthumous "The Shining."

As a soundtrack, it works. Moody music fills the background, and in that respect it is largely a success. Yet as a standalone listen, the record is a weak and almost slap-dash display, with Arnalds feeling regrettably uninspired.

Riceboy Sleeps isn't quite awful; on the contrary, there is enough warmth and prettiness to give the record some value. But by the same token, it's certainly not fantastic either, and therein lies the great problem with the whole project.

The album is still very much a tale of two cities: for every half-baked wobbly anthem that the rooster-haired cockney thug has in his pocket he still manages to surprise with an occasional outburst of borderline genius.

It aims to give fans something different, but it does the bare minimum.

Grande is far too talented to be crafting forgettable pop albums, so here’s to hoping that she regains her footing soon.

As it stands, it’s just another Vampire Weekend album, except the songs are less catchy and more sterile this time around.

It's hard to mess up a good thing too badly and there are certainly enjoyable moments on The Green Album.

MGMT have (purposely?) lost that instant magic that they effortlessly whipped up with those debut singles, and in trying to re-establish themselves as artists that don't need the commercial mainstream to survive, they've created a record that lacks any defining characteristics to call its own.

Artpop is the third album by pop recording artist Lady Gaga. Therefore it has similarities to her previous work but is inherently different because it is a different album.

Never Enough's tepid reheats demand some form of urgent rethink.

Despite the similarities, there’s actually a few brief moments in The Floodlight Collective where Pundt one-ups the band he derivates from, but there’s unfortunately as many that are boring enough to negate any previous triumph.

Shinedown has the raw talent to keep Amaryllis afloat, but the album is full of holes and it always appears to be on the verge of sinking.

This latest Lana del Rey record does contain some measure of robust and moving songwriting about topics other than sex, death and California. ... Secondary highlights “Paris, Texas” and “Kintsugi” disappear into the background; otherwise cogent hip-hop flirtations turn into innocuous daliances (“Fishtail”); the middle of the road becomes the most desolate of wasted spaces (“Fingertips”).

Frankly, Mercer’s unfiltered production makes Heartworms an exhausting listen.

In the end, what you’re left with is a generic rock album with a couple of noteworthy moments and an aftertaste that will probably alienate a few long-time fans of the band.

You Will Eventually Be Forgotten offers nothing new nor does it pay respectable homage to its influences.

While an interesting concept, neither CD contains enough strong material to match up to either of her previous releases, and at times, the constant barrage of R&B cliches and adult-contemporary production make it sound like Beyonce is rapidly transforming from hot, hip pop goddess to your standard bored diva.

Picture Perfect's silver lining comes in that it is, at the end of the day, a perfectly serviceable pop record replete with euphoric headrushes and the occasional tenacious earworm ("Impossible").

Mission Bell isn't anywhere near a disaster, but it's also nowhere close to being a great album. Whatever it is Amos Lee went off in search of at the beginning of this album, he should have kept looking for it.

The music itself isn't really the issue. It's the conceit, the fact that even though Kanye and Jay-Z truthfully are nailing what pop can sound like, they use their royal stature not to communicate fresh ideas but pander to their subjects because they f*cking can.

That consistent album we're waiting for still hasn't come just yet.

The album is just standard rock/alternative affair.

In the glutton of pretty records, With Our Heads in the Clouds and Our Hearts in the Fields presents itself as a merely a needle in the haystack; the likelihood is that it will be lost in the mix, not good enough to be remember, but also not bad enough to be singled-out.

It’s a series of surprisingly coherent and original steps forward, followed by a series of steps both backwards and sideways. I’d venture to say that’s better than continuing to rummage around the status quo at least, even if the cumulative results are still decidedly average.

Overcome is but a grain in the sand on an oversaturated desert; a metal album you'll enjoy while you play it but won't ever be something you‘ll yearn to hear.