It is genuinely embarrassing at times, compounded by the intrusive sense that the songs were really written for an audience of one (who, like the rest of the world, has reportedly shown no interest in listening to it).

The full band arrangements are tastefully understated, and the 47-year-old sustains a mood of gentle sorrow and hard-earned wisdom that is easy on the ear. It is well trodden territory but Jurado is a class act.

There are big, generalised emotions: hurt, love, loss, transcendence. But none of the tiny, idiosyncratic observations that make and break relationships.

Some of it is boring and the two songs from his George Harrison session chug along forgettably. But I’d swap my unloved copy of Self Portrait for this box set any day.

Four albums in, the band are still no closer to honing in on a sound that’s recognizably theirs. There’s no denying the band’s impressive ear for melody, but on Smitten, they’re no closer to answering the question they posed three years ago: who am I?

The don’t-bore-us, get-to-the-chorus model followed by the top half of Night Call works fine when taken in pieces, or as the beat-driven soundtrack to a gym workout. But it frustrates and alienates in its album sequence. Yet, Night Call delivers in affirming Olly Alexander as an artist capable of connecting with a varied, multi-generational audience.

The album retains the competent aura of Sigrid’s debut, if not always its punch. Her unrelentingly talented vocal performances on tracks like piano ballad Last To Know strip her back to the artist before the fame, the artist at her piano at home in Norway. But high-octane pop remains the place where she really shines.

A little bit of Ringo goes a long way, which has been the challenge of his solo career. The good news is that his 20th album may genuinely be his best since the post-Beatles highs of the 1970s.

The confidence of this Texan trio's last effort (2009's Fits) is lacking on their first major-label release.

If this record feels like a triumph of style over substance, I still like its style.

Gretchen Wilson's version of Don't Come Home A Drinkin' (With Lovin' On Your Mind) is feisty and Lee Ann Womack is helped by having Buddy Miller on accordian and Patty Griffin on backing vocals but several of the 12 songs are pretty routine covers that add little particularly interesting.

Every track is polished and purposeful, but the sheer busy quality of her singing and overactive variety of the production ensures that Liberation never settles into a coherent listening experience.

There are still a little too many US FM radio pop-metal vocals, but happily there's also plenty of fierce, melody-laced drum & bass action that will please festivals and dancefloors the world over.

Nelson co-writes many of Gaga’s songs too, which essay a slightly awkward journey from rock balladry to slickly superficial pop. In one sense, there is a tangible jump in standards as Gaga comes to the fore on the second half of the album--she is a major musical talent. But there is also a weird disconnect as the soundtrack shifts gear to anodyne modern pop.

The result for Take That is what you would expect: slick production-line pop that puts all the verses, choruses, hooks and beats in the right place, or at least the places we usually find them.

The five and a half hours of unreleased demos/live recordings do give a warmly inclusive insider's feel but there's nothing I'd listen to more than a couple of times.

A confident, interesting and accomplished album. But Marten is operating in a crowded field. Weyes Blood, Nina Nastasia, Lana Del Rey and Marling all plough similar furrows.

There are a few tasty future-pop moments, but mainly it's predictable r&b, weighed down with tiresome, ersatz sexiness.

Highlights are all duets with strong women, notably Stevie Nicks.

With the jolly, moreish melodies in other songs including Danae there is much to enjoy in Mythologies. But it’s also a 23-track album that commands attention, sonically speaking, for only a fraction of its duration. A seat at the ballet itself is needed to best marry the music, stories and movement.

A fun, enjoyable vessel that spotlights a magnetic talent. The music might not entirely be Panic! at the Disco’s own – but like fellow Vegas bigwig Elvis, that’s clearly no barrier.

The fortunes of this soundtrack will ultimately rest with the success of the film but its brooding mix of old and new styles certainly wets your appetite to see it.

He is, it is true, a singular talent and his inner monologues crackle with an undeniable dark alchemy. And yet, like a sermon that goes on too long, Kanye’s stream-of-conscience observations on Jesus, Kim Kardashian and the importance of being Kanye suffer for an absence of breathing space. Full of sound and fury it may be – but West’s latest ultimately lacks direction.

Together they make efficient, likeable, club-friendly pop, with the house numbers less memorable than her drum and bass leanings.

Occasional lines jerk out of the mix as Dylan struggles for control of his vocal chords. But his unique phrasing and delivery is usually right on the nose of the song’s meaning.

[Willie Nelson] brings feeling and charm to these 11 covers.

From Out of Nowhere could be an ELO album from 40 years ago, albeit with a bit of added digital polish.

This fourth may not reach those heights [of the first two albums], but it’s a solid effort from a band who, above all else, just sound grateful to have survived.