A coy, slow burner, it doesn't kick off properly until its latter stages.

Be Strong is funny, innovative, uplifting and, most importantly, always fun.

The overall feel is of a semi-fascinating compilation album, making Tall Ships easy to appreciate but very difficult to love.

It’s an interesting mix of the wide-eyed and sparkly and the beachfront and nonchalant that makes for a hugely radio-friendly record that won’t dent your credibility.

A peculiar unwillingness to climax is something that many Shearwater records have suffered with over the years, and Animal Joy is unfortunately no exception.

Though the grappling guitars of 'Riot In My House' wouldn't seem out of place on an MC5 album, Blues Funeral doesn't always kick out the jams.

White Denim continue to teeter there.

This is as forceful, salacious and dangerous as they’re likely to get.

London Grammar’s polished take on trip-hop is quietly dramatic, sometimes beautiful and well worth a listen.

Far more stripped back than the Charlatans frontman's previous offerings, Oh No flits between affecting moments (the rather gorgeous 'Hours') and repetitive down-beaters ('A Case For Vinyl') that seem to go nowhere.

It veers wildly between the divine and the comedic, but this is positively imperious preposterousness.

The dreamy 'Clone' has a touch of the Cocteau Twins about it, while the title track's polished riffs are pure powerpop. Only occasional moments – the lame guitar lick on 'Breathing Under Water' being one – sound outdated, proving that when it's done well, a little nostalgia doesn't hurt.

Packed with shimmering riffs, synths and loops which sees the Californian mastermind diversify his much-tipped take on 'alternative 80s'.

Lynch showcases a grim neighbourhood that seems electrically oppressed somehow, synthesised echoes murmuring like residual radiation.

A strange, interesting, occasionally brilliant album.

An accomplished, repeatable debut.

When the wrecking ball stops swinging, however, there are moments of emotional weightiness ('Leader Of The Pack') and glimpses of tenderness ('End Of The Line') that give this LP a more human edge.

Its Yeasayer-aping can seem too familiar at times, but on the whole Young Magic's debut is a beguiling brain-burp of a listen.

In the end, it’s all a little too demure to really shout out loud about.

Against all odds, 'Some Nights' is a hoot: huge-sounding, packed with tunes and not lacking in humour.

'Matilda' is superb, squirmy avant-pop, 'Tessellate' sports a pleasing, stuttering, polyrhythm, whilst 'Breezeblocks' skitters beneath multilayered vocals.

All designs are firmly fixed on a glorious technicolour gem, but it's fair to say results are mixed.

Whilst Hegarty's extended speech in 'Future Feminism' fails to grasp wholly, (but will probably fill a void in your pseudo-intellectual appetite), the collection as a whole is an impressively captivating soundscape.

Ultimately, Endless Flowers is a poppier, prettier record than Crocodiles have managed before.

More often than not Stasia Irons and Cat Harris-White get bogged down in a psychedelic maze, struggling to get their intelligent and issue-led rhymes heard above distracting production.

It's enough to hold the interest, although we'd prefer Alabama Shakes to capitalise on their more esoteric elements and cut out the cliches.

Occasional cringe-inducing lyrics aside, 'Dry Land Is Not A Myth' gets everything bang on.

The moments of clarity indicate a record that yearns for change.