The pair bring a gritty stiffness to Tim McGraw's Open Season on My Heart and Harris brings a searing power to Patti Scialfa's Spanish Dancer.

On the whole, My Soft Machine lacks the clarity of Parks’s exceptional debut, and can veer too often into repetition; there’s a lack of journey in the individual songs, meaning you end in much the same place as you started. Her lyrics are, as ever, expertly crafted, but they deserve much more musical supporting oomph.

At best, its familiarity is warm and inviting for seasoned fans; for some it will feel lazily identical and lacking in ambition. But it’s an overwhelmingly powerful and energetic musing on the never-ending anxieties and strain of life that don’t leave just because you enter adulthood – exactly what keeps their fans coming back.

It feels more like a primer for live shows rather than an end in itself, a set of water colour sketches to be inked in later.

Every number is cleverly honed to leave you wanting just that bit more.

The sticking point for some might be Broderick’s voice, which shares a boyish sweetness with singers like Jens Lekman and José Gonzalez--perfect for country ballads but which struggles to carry some of the slighter compositions.

Delphi Dancing has a nice meaty electronic bass line and Cocteau Twins-like vocals. Meanwhile the single At Your Feet is a lulling piano waltz. Being covered in puke at 3am would have been much more tolerable had I known about this song five years ago. Elsewhere, though, the songs feel a bit too improvised.

It is as if one of the saddest albums you will ever hear is masquerading as a set of party hits. Nevertheless, No Shame should be compulsory listening for every young wannabe who still thinks pop stardom will be a panacea for all their problems.

Still channelling Lynyrd Skynyrd, REM and the Band, the rest of the Crows keep the tyres on the tarmac like pros.

The air is predictably valedictory, freighted with reflections on love, faith and intimations of mortality. 'Don't go to any trouble/You know I won't be here long . . . ' he sings in Westerberg's Any Trouble - in a voice as strong and clear as a bell.

A genuinely superior slice of small hours electro-pop.

All 11 songs are of high quality.

Pick-n-mixing sounds and being savvy about who they work with has paid off beyond trying to maintain quality from track one to track 13. So take it for what it is: a collection of songs that happen to be next to each other, some of which are glorious (most of the singles) and some of which are a bit cringe (Gloves Up, A Mess).

As always with Mehldau ambition often tips over into pretentiousness, but one forgives him because there’s a real musical sensibility at work.

What Kasabian have lost in aggression they have gained in depth and sensitivity, and the result is a vivid, adventurous album set at the outer limits of rock and techno.

The opening four tunes are extraordinarily catchy, yet each is marred by queasy allusions to sex (Zombie Love) and drugs (Dirty Luck), which’ll be a turn-off to many listeners.

On a set of compact, meaningful songs about surviving in the age of anxiety, the sympathetic weave of the reunited band embodies the very spirit of empathy and togetherness for which Steadman seems to be reaching.

There's a confident, bouncy feel to Give Me All You Got.

Springsteen has charisma and conviction to match anyone who has ever picked up a microphone, allied to a dynamic grasp of exactly when to ramp up and when to hold back, and he delivers these songs like they mean the world to him. In other words, he’s got soul.

Full of tunes and pizzazz, it's unexpectedly good fun.

Play it soft, and it drifts into the background. Play it loud and something much more vigorous and compelling emerges.

Goldfrapp hark back to the bombast of a time when electronica was all about man (or woman) versus machine. On Silver Eye, the machines are ascendant.

It's hardly a novel idea to cover these songs, but Isaak's versions succeed through skilful arrangement, vibrant recording (mostly at Sun) and above all some remarkable vocal performances.

Morrison’s joy in tackling this rich repertoire is palpable.

This is some kind of triumph for Blige and for Britain.

After an opinion-dividing experimental phase with 2009's Humbug, roar back to melodic life on their fourth album.

It's all an interesting time capsule and what makes it worthwhile for Cash fans is that there are 26 previously unreleased tracks. Disc 2 sounds a tad more produced but a song about dismissing a former lover--Wide Open Road--and the jaunty Five Minutes To Live are treats.

The performances are superb.