None of the tracks surpass the original (except probably Coldplay), but it doesn’t feel like the intention to ‘one-up’ other bands here. It’s an intimate, nostalgic affair for a small minority. For others, it’ll be less vital.

San Fermin is a classical album, fitted with an accompanying tale of love and heartache. San Fermin is also a folk-pop album, set in a world of brilliantly beautiful classical instrumentation and composition. It sits perfectly in both of these guises, and for this, Ellis Ludwig-Leone deserves all of the praise in the world.

It might be a little light on lyrical substance, but it’s gorgeously melodic and irresistibly mellow; they don’t make pop records like this any more.

It’s a big world out there is certainly enjoyable, but I’d have been happy to do without the stuff we’ve heard before.

It might not be enough to breathe new life into DJ-KiCKS but he’s created a new blueprint for every other curator to follow. This is brilliant, and mix number 47 has got some way to go to match it.

Her latest offering, however, lacks the key component that made the bizarre spectacles that accompanied her other albums slightly less irritating--consistently good pop songs.

There is a vitality and clarity of spirit present here that is at once immediate, intimate and irresistible.

Though not quite as compositionally adventurous as Shields, these demos and bonus tracks are equally emotionally resonant--it’s an insight into what Shields could have been--and what we might have to look forward to in the future.

Tin Star doesn’t play around with the formula, but it’s much better off rollicking through a hot-blooded, swinging set than it is attempting to be some kind of self-conscious alt-indie crossover.

There is a somewhat disconcerting beauty to some of Pre-Human Ideas’ songs.

Liberated, no doubt, from the pressures that accompany the devising of a worthy and relevant successor to You’re A Woman, I’m A Machine, Grainger has been able to conjure what is a fairly rich noise pop record.

Hynes’ decision to collaborate broadly on Blood Orange proves a masterstroke in terms of the record’s diversity.

While Tres Cabrones churns with the urgency and fire of a much younger band, the collection ultimately reveals more about the group’s raw early years and the gnarled musical roots that got them here, than providing any hints as to where in the hell the Melvins might possibly be going in the future.

It’s still clear, though, that she has too many ideas not to be able to take them somewhere interesting once settled into a new life. File under ‘transitional’.

The grit has returned, but new shimmer introduced on that album has not, and the result is a much more rounded and energetic sound.

Tellier’s Confection is an experimental anthology. It’s not entirely what you might expect, and there’s no doubt it won’t be to everyone’s taste.

Her child-like rhymes may seem like she’s only toying with playground politics but she knows exactly where her strengths are; Matangi is a tribute to those talents and it’s an unmitigated thrill. Dissident, deviant, “mili-tent”; Cookie cutter pop star she is not, but a true great she absolutely is.

Ultimately, it’s a hypnotic and intermittently enjoyable experience, which whilst a little overextended and at times as shallow as the music it pastiches, marks a convincing enough return for Cut Copy.

There are at least a half-dozen verses in this album alone that stand amongst his best ever. ... Problem is, saying a whole lotta nothing for 70-plus minutes doesn’t exactly make for a compelling rap record.

It was too easy for Weiss and Presant to make a record like this: they’ve not challenged themselves, and they’ve certainly not challenged the listener.

Back to Land, then: business as usual, but the business remains good.

There’s a huge amount of solace to be found in this album--one that, amidst the chaos, taps you gently on the shoulder, and takes you away somewhere nicer.

This is everything a punk record should be; abrasive, aggressive, occasionally a little gauche, but with an emotional core that’s unmistakeable, and that elevates Surfing Strange from a enjoyable album to a genuinely gripping one.

It’s uplifting, motivating and unashamedly simple (which, frankly, is it’s major charm).

It’s hard to judge if the album has simply missed its mark or, as I suspect, he appears to have lost the enthusiasm and imagination with which he approached his first, vastly superior effort.

Black Radio 2 just falls short of being anything more than generic sounding pop, produced by a jazz trio tinted by success.

If their previous albums were the sound of cataclysmic blasts--of unhewn matter rebounding through the cosmos trying to manifest--then Corsicana Lemonade is the sound of their universe finally taking shape.

As a whole, Inventions plays nicely as the backdrop of your psychedelic dreams. In pieces, it fares much better and commands more attention.