Stone delivers what may be his masterpiece in Broken Brights, an album that seamlessly inhabits the resurgent Laurel Canyon sound.

Caer shows that Twin Shadow’s limitless approach to pop suits him just fine.

While the one-sided “Heart’s Not In It” is crippled by blame-laying, “One Of Us Will Lose” is an edifice of aching melancholy, with streaks of slide guitar threading currents of loss and despair through its descent into the depths.

Strange Creatures is certainly packed with musical ideas.

Cause and Effect isn’t Keane breaking any new ground, but in the quieter moments it’s surprisingly good.

As ever, you’re left marvelling at Parton’s ability to capitalise on her slick professionalism without ever compromising her huge heart and sparkling spirit.

Gillespie has never quite had the voice to match his colossal ‘tude. But he can still channel the back-alley menace of a truant teen.

Whatever their origin [his guitars], he manages to wrestle compelling riffs from them.

Courage is a force to be reckoned with. It seems unlikely that more than a few of its tracks will jostle their way onto Dion’s setlist, given the decades of power ballads they have to compete with. But those that do will make their mark.

Why Are You OK finds dad-of-four Bridwell reflecting honestly on the ennui of everyday, surburban life. Unfortunately, the result is largely forgettable.

Styles has opened himself up, as best he can, to his audience, and by gathering a solid team around him to help achieve that he’s created an immersive, well-produced collection of songs that isn’t trying to prove anything in particular to anyone.

Tackling topics like technology addiction (“Disillusioned”) and the deaths of celebrities (“So Long, and Thanks For All The Fish”), the band forges a sobering look at the world with the maturity that comes from being on a long break. Despite the changes Eat The Elephant is a solid return for the supergroup.

The duet between Miss Kittin’s android vocal and a machine voice on the engagingly dystopian “Hans Is Driving” seems devoid of contact, a sad lament from a world bereft of humans. But it’s Arbez-Nicolas’s magpie ways that leaves a bad taste.

A decent collection which explores different aspects of the duo’s chosen musical territory.

24/7 Rock Star Shit has to be one of the all-time great rock’n’roll titles; but sadly, lurking behind it is an album which struggles to fulfil such vagabond promise. Rather, it seems terminally enervated: most of these songs have a shrugging, slovenly manner.

The second album from Franco-techno duo Xavier de Rosnay and Gaspard Augé is decidedly less pop-tabulous than their career highlights to date.

Way To Blue avoids the usual patchwork-quilt pitfalls of style and quality that afflict most tribute albums.

Bleachers occasionally lets Antonoff’s genius shine through, but more often it feels like an experiment gone awry.

At their most normal, “In Love” resembles Prince at his oddest; while the most likeable of a range of silly lyrics offers the promise, “I like to watch you run, but I’ll never touch your bum”.

He sounds cleansed of old complications.

It's gimmicky, sure, but also pretty irresistible.

There are enough decent moments to call Demonstration a success.

Too often their light touch turns lightweight, even wan.

His latest LP largely lacks killer tunes.

While the overall Detroit/Memphis tone is tempered somewhat on the second CD, where Steve Wickham’s fiddle is featured more prominently. Scott’s amorous enthusiasm can be a tad gauche at times, but the languidity of his riposte, in “Kinky’s History Lesson”, to an ill-judged slur on British courage during World War Two, is belied by its razoring impact.

MØ crafts consistently cool grooves but nothing that makes her stand out from the crowd.

In some cases, that sugary voice which works so well as a pop vehicle lacks the full-bodied character to carry a big ballad.

In some cases, as in "Cloud on My Tongue", the orchestrations serve as little more than swaddling blankets. But the more thoughtful rearrangements can be transformative.