It is hard to care too much about something this safe.

Though Shangri La is at least entertaining, it’s without that lasting, killer incision that will guarantee longevity.

For a Tarot-themed rock album made by an immortal megalomaniac, it's actually OK. Especially the loud bits.

When it works – as on the heartbreaking 'Together' and a barrelling 'The Magic Position' – it highlights his gifts as a songwriter, but on the dreary 'Bitten' and a seemingly endless 'Vulture' it makes you long for something simpler to mark his brilliance.

The band's fifth full-length is a sluggish drone of guitars so muddy they sound like they were recorded in a bog married to pseudo-spiritual waffling from singer Dave Heumann.

Surrounding himself with talent that far surpasses his own doesn't hide the weakness of many of these tracks.

What lets it down is that it is unutterably, irrevocably and unswervingly dull. Dull, dull, dull. As boring as the hum of a fridge.

Form And Control is a pleasant enough offering, but there's nothing phenomenal on show here.

It's largely uninspired and generic dance music, all industrialised dystopia and insouciant dehumanisation, making U&I an often prosaic return.

Unfortunately, the result is usually a bit syrupy and mawkish.

So with their fourth LP, where they burst from the tracks with peppy numbers like ‘Holy’ and Biffy-esque choruses on ‘The Woodpile’, it’s a mite disappointing.

[An] intense, skeletal, and actually-rather-dreary debut.

The five songs here are awkward bedfellows.

Don’t Forget is just possible to enjoy. But only in mod-eration, of course.

Initially it is exciting – the title track and 'Hips And Lips' pack a visceral punch – however, repeat plays reveal that 'The National Health' offers nothing particularly new.

Secondhand Rapture feels overlong, hampered by a lyrical palette that seems to mirror the relationship struggles of a Twilight film.

At his best, Oberhofer packs emotional punches in the maniacal vocals of 'I Could Go', underscored by proggy synths, billowing flutes and a chorus that stomps around like a giant drunk toddler. Somehow, Oberhofer's melodrama makes getting dumped sound fun. If only he could keep it up over a whole album...

Grand and grizzling, 'Gossamer' begs for adoration, but too often leaves an uncomfortably bittersweet aftertaste.

Sadly, Siberia is lacking any genuine spark.

The gripes of her debut album--chiefly that the quality of her songs didn't always match the strength of her voice--again prevail here.

Mostly, these are exquisitely constructed slow jams--especially recent single ‘Cookies’, The-Dream-esque ‘Crazy Sex’ and the cashmere-soft, Kelly Rowland duet ‘All The Way’--but the pace becomes stagnant after a while.

while the likes of Animal Collective and Yeasayer can sound like they’re from other times, places and planets, Delorean sound more like they’re making music for a lacklustre university recruitment video.

A band so capable shouldn't have settled for a debut as average as this.

Sledgehammer riff-filled rock doesn't need to be clever, but it sure as heck needs to sound like it's driven by full-pelt, carnage-causing energy. And that's where Band Of Skulls' second effort falls short.

The Kasabian-ish 'Danny Come Inside', with its predatory stride, and the tautly atmospheric 'Had It Coming' are rallying gear shifts; disappointingly, the remainder of 'Milk Famous' seems to be on cruise control.

Magic free and generally shapeless, TEEN have some real growing up to do.

‘A Ton Of Love’ shows they’ve not lost their knack for passably impersonating Echo & the Bunnymen, but really, you deserve better than this hazily indistinct angst.

Although she retains the cool cleverness of an indie icon, this New Yorker's detached demeanour eventually ends up sounding, ahem, trullie dull.