Unfortunately, barring the opener, few of Lost In Space’s melodies do their lyrical conceits justice, and worse, many sound as if we’ve heard them before, albeit in a fresher, looser context.

Since We’ve Become Translucent’s greatest flaw -- its dumbed-downedness -- becomes apparent and sad as the album’s first half goes on.

While there is lots of good, even great music out there, not much of it even begins to touch Neko’s passion.

It can safely be said that Dresselhaus has nothing to learn about the instruments of technology, but a lot to learn about the ability to write a catchy tune.

If this isn’t a breakthrough album for them that takes them to the top of the heap, seeing them showered with money, women and limos, well, then the consumer and music fan is not doing their job.

Devil’s Workshop is not awful, but its steady flow of roots rock near-misses is, at the very least, disheartening.

By taking the visceral punch of Dig Me Out and The Hot Rock, blending that with the pop sensibilities of All Hands on the Bad One, and throwing in a few bonuses, Sleater-Kinney have crafted their best album yet.

There’s nothing wrong with collaborators -- and Faithfull has picked some good ones -- but the quality seems to be directly linked to who is behind each song.

No longer does he sound on the verge of breakdown with every aching syllable, no more pent-up jadedness---this is pure, cheerful post-orgasmic clarity.

Yeah, she’s sticking with the formula that got her going six years ago, but when it actually works, why bother messing with it?

Revolverlution illustrates that they can adapt to varying song forms, that they are open to technology and that they are still able to craft gripping hip-hop. Unfortunately, they have also kept up with the hip-hop nation by making an album that doesn’t contain enough decent material to justify its near-ridiculous length.

Hard Candy’s best moments... are fewer and further between than on previous albums.

Spit-shine production, passionless instrumentation, (extremely) laid back grooves and laughably awful lyrics all conspire to do this once explosive band in.

Though you really can’t forget any of the work he’s done in the past decade or so with his former band, Jason Loewenstein has really pulled off a gem of a record that momentarily loses you in his own music.

It’s not essential listening by any means, but an interesting look into his working methods of previous years, nonetheless.

Every song is a savage burst of raw anger, taking Pink Flag’s sarcastic punk and updating it for the new millennium with cleaner production and even more minimalist arrangements.

For the first time since their full-length debut album 1977, Ash have achieved synergy between their sweet-as-milkshake pop and the full-on heavy metal and punk that inspired Hamilton and Wheeler to pick up guitars in the first place.

Avril is not some brilliant songwriter, and her voice is good, but not amazing, and her ‘tude is a little ridiculous at times. Despite this, she is the most refreshing and exciting girl in pop rock today.

Somehow The Polyphonic Spree have managed to make a record that actually is simple, joyous, and spiritually uplifting.

No period of Ferry's extraordinary career goes untouched on Frantic, easily his most rewarding solo work since Roxy's disbandment in 1983.

It quickly becomes apparent there is a lacking element in many of the tracks on the album. Memorable melodies. What remains are non-descript tracks that feature synthesizer melodies that go nowhere and cribbed samples from records.

The middling adult contemporary slop, although awful, isn’t what ultimately drowns In Our Gun. That blame can fall squarely in the lap of misguided attempts at moody electronica, something the band has more successfully dabbled in previously.

The songs are light, the production both relaxed and relaxing... the music breathes.

Its utter lack of anything approaching strong feeling relegates it to the realm of indie-flavored muzak.

An entirely mediocre album that hints at a greatness that may lie beneath.

Kinky has the potential to transcend both the dance and Latin music genres, simply because of their ability to do just a little bit more than what’s expected.

Enjoyable rather than revelatory, and quirky rather than profound.

The restless Broder can’t see the problem with shredding flavours as disparate as folk, rock, post-rock, the avant-garde, hip hop, electronica into a powerful, sometimes jarring, sometimes bewitching pulp, and neither should any music fan. Listen and free your mind from convention.