His light, understated tenor blends well with her piquant tone on the blithe, buttoned-down yacht-rock grooves he creates for Little Wings’ “Look At What The Light Did Now” and Frank Ocean’s “Thinking Bout You”; but an affectless version of Barry Gibb’s “Grease” is less successful.

Oxnard isn’t quite the epic final chapter .Paak clearly craved for his trilogy--it certainly fails to compare to his 2016 breakthrough masterpiece Malibu--but you have to wonder if he really cares that much. On so many of these tracks he sounds restless, like he’s already thinking about moving on to bigger and better things.

An intriguing mix overall and further proof that Pearl Jam play by their own rules--a fact that real fans would never want to change.

Satisfying and wholly enjoyable album.

Technically unimpeachable, the layered harmonies of songs such as "Angels From The Realms Of Glory" and "The Holly And The Ivy" are rendered with razor-sharp precision, though there's a stridency to her delivery on some pieces.

In places, it's a disastrously over-egged pudding.

Meg Baird, formerly the frontperson of Philadelphia-based psychedelic folk-rockers Espers, is left a little exposed on her own solo album.

It’s a wonderful collection, with even Richard Thompson’s cold-comfort message in “End Of The Rainbow” imbued with a warm glow.

No doubt the album will satisfy lovers of understated soul, but the hangers-on from Normani’s pop days will take more convincing. Either way, after so long a wait, you might hope for a bigger dopamine hit than this.

Habibi Funk deals not in the indigenous strains that occupy the main focus of world music reissues, but rather local crossovers that slipped between the cracks, reflecting outside influences from the Caribbean, Cape Verde, and overwhelmingly, Western funk, soul and disco. ... The more recent examples are somewhat diluted by developments in technology.

His songs may reference antiquities like Ernest Hemingway, but the drum programmes, autotuned vocals and synth sequences are more modern than the usual country-rock favoured by septuagenarian troubadours.

It’s the album equivalent of someone who can finally handle their liquor. Someone fresh out of their 20s and contemplating life via moments of late-night melancholy, as opposed to worrying implosion.

You’ll hear the recycled riff from the Beatles’ Paperback Writer (“Rain”’s original A side) on their new song “I’m So Bored”; the hook of Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze” smoking its way through “Love You Forever”; and the brooding melody from the Stones’ “Paint it Black” on “One Day at A Time”. The pair poke fun at their own slapdash songwriting process on “Make it Up as You Go Along”. But still, there’s fun to be had with the way Gallagher tows teenage ‘tude into middle age.

The Shjips' mesmeric approach reaches its apogee on "Flight", whose rolling groove is streaked with cascading contrails of echoey, double-tracked space-guitar.

Waterhouse’s own vocals could be stronger, but his throwaway manner has a languid charm.

Wake Up! may tackle weighty themes of capitalism and power struggles in relationships, but the woozy ambience of its shoegaze and Sixties-inspired pop is not exactly going to propel you into an invigorating new way of life.

This collection of re-recorded hits and newer material lacks both that album's imaginative approach and its understated nobility.

Brian Jonestown Massacre’s 18th album might not be breaking any ground, or sitars, but 15 years after Newcombe nearly destroyed himself, it’s good to hear him sound so self-assured.

It's still suffused with a retro 1960s vibe, but this time the garage-pop influences prevail, with a sizeable side-order of psychedelia courtesy of the edgy West Coast lead guitar that streaks tracks.

The best of confessional pop – think Beyoncé’s Lemonade – finds an original sound for an original experience and demands the listener’s attention.

It’s a remarkable departure for Amidon, who also eschews his usual traditional repertoire in favour of original material, albeit haunted by similar hints of fate, animism and violence; though the overriding impression is best summed up in a phrase about “haphazard words found in drifting conversation”.

Each artist is joined at some point by Gibb’s distinctive high, breathy voice. It’s wobblier now, but sounds a little more searching and humble.

Whenever thoughts here turn to love, the results are not pretty.... But when antipathy rules, things go with a fizzy enthusiasm that’s quite infectious.

By the end of Post Traumatic, you realise Shinoda is right: this record is as much about Bennington as it is about him, but that’s what makes it so vulnerable and such a triumphant debut.

Their sixth album, Marauder, is their most experimental to date, blending everything from rough garage rock to Motown rhythms. They’re reinvigorated, brimming with energy and self-assurance.

Race is richly entertaining, immersive and evocative, orchestrated with fastidious care and feeling.

Everyday Life is a fascinating, occasionally brilliant curio, reflective of a band still very much figuring out how to respond to a world that has become meaner, dirtier and crueller since they were singing about clocks and colours. They’re not quite there, but you can admire the effort all the same.

By the time the album closes on “Lose My Wife”, it is clear that the “sweet sexy savage” persona of Kehlani’s seminal 2017 debut is alive and kicking.