Too many of the ideas seem incomplete, like sketches waiting to be fleshed out.

What it ultimately comes down to is style versus substance. Once Midnight Movies matches the latter with the former, the results should be nothing short of stunning.

There’s a distinct lack of personality, meaning that LL Cool J’s eleventh long player is merely good, and his reputation (and bank balance) will be neither tarnished nor expanded.

The Libertines don’t even try for a good album; they sound like four blokes lucky to be jamming in the same room again, and their joy in each other’s company redeems the enterprise.

To me, Medulla is an experiment in transforming the primal power of the human voice into a 21st century context. It's an amazing effort, and it's one of the best albums of the year.

The change is typically drastic, but given the uncharacteristically long period spent in the studio this time around, the sum of worthwhile material is far less impressive.

As accomplished as Radian's sound is, Juxtaposition has trouble conveying new ideas throughout the album.

Though lacking in innovation, the final GBV album will please any longtime fan that prefers “Game of Pricks” to “Chicken Blows”. Pollard’s songwriting finally feels consistent, fully realized and commanding.

The mood for both is, in a word, joyous.

A band as talented and enjoyable as Clinic should be allowed to distill and advance their sound without getting tarred with the brush of stagnancy.

A record lacking in a substantial amount of soul, grit and sensuality.

Nothing has really changed at all.

Disparate though its individual elements may seem (and they certainly are), the sum of the parts is remarkably cohesive.

Where Jerusalem was all reaction, humanely riddled with helplessness and incomprehension, The Revolution Starts...Now is the well-honed response, a focused act of civil disobedience.

The Dirty South is relatively toothless in comparison to Decoration Day and the breakthrough Southern Rock Opera, rarely even building up that predictably satisfying head of steam.

The rest of More Adventurous is mostly what you would have expected from Rilo Kiley before the album's bracing beginning, only now it carries the stench of promise unfulfilled.

Sadly this isn’t the same 213 who dropped the legendary demo and this isn’t the 213 album people have been waiting for.

Perhaps All City’s most pleasing triumph, for fans of Northern State’s earlier stuff, is that the colloquial character of the Hesta and co.’s voices is in no way diluted by the more polished music accompanying it.

This is no cynical cash-in; every new track adds gestalt to an album which in its original incarnation was pretty damn great to begin with.

While Blue Album doesn’t break any moulds, match their best records from the mid 90s or (quite) end their career on a triumphant high, it will almost certainly find favour with old fans because it’s an undeniably good record, certainly their best since The Middle Of Nowhere and possibly even since In Sides.

Unfortunately, even when they attempt to paint a serious social commentary, they can’t seem to suppress their sophomoric potty humor.

Allow me to offer some parting advice: just because a record expresses emotion doesn’t make it bad.

It is, to be frank, one of the most remarkable and forward-looking rock albums that you will hear all year, and testament to Lanegan’s ability to take desolate lyrics and fashion beautiful, redemptive tunes around them.

His new album isn’t quite as good as Disposable Arts, but it’s similarly engaging--he is both confident and insecure, and this incongruity defines his music.

An uneven record that came out a few years too late.

Sounds like a retreat.

There’s an obvious self-assurance on AWOBMOLG that’s been increasingly evident on his recent EP releases; a sense of things coming together and evolving into a sound that seems unhurried, unprompted and, best of all, natural.

Beginning with third track, "Lupus", a certain lifelessness starts to creep into The Equatorial Stars.