It’s a mixed manifestation of electronic pop.

Unfortunately, most of 20/20 falls into a rut; it sets the mood, but then fails to create tension.

This is a second album that genuinely builds upon its predecessor. Exile reinforces the feeling in modern pop that no other group sounds quite as hurt as Hurts.

There’s no real ‘wow factor’ to Talé despite its star guests. But it’s a loveable enough effort.

While some of this album is beautiful and delicate, at other times its vocal and musical honey smothers the intimacy of the lyrics.

You want the mix to jump and pound and excite. But it doesn’t, and the choruses feel hung out to dry. This makes for a frustrating listen, because the talent is there – damn, even the songs are there.

What remains is an adequate compilation of nostalgic sounds, largely void of Clark’s unique voice. Greater consistency would have worked wonders.

Metheny’s use of it here delivers a pale, expensive shadow of what a real band can achieve. The project doesn’t feel like it has longevity, and this release is for the hardcore only.

There is truly nothing edgy about this collection.

Marr’s guitar work can be fascinating--but it’s forever shadowed by less-appealing vocal work.

This album unfortunately fails to showcase his strengths, and proves something of an obstacle course for the listener to negotiate.

ANNA is strategic in its experimentation, but represents a fairly dramatic departure from its makers’ brand, so hats off to that.

A Moving Picture proves a more nakedly ambitious--in the humdrum sense of the word--follow-up, which struggles to strike the right balance between street cred and pop appeal.

On the whole, Collections is a misfire and proof that, sometimes, re-inventing the wheel doesn't always reap rewards.

Just occasionally the band drops hints that they might have a future beyond this loutish, two-dimensional debut.

Florence, Santigold and the usually brilliant Danny Brown do little more than tick boxes, and ultimately Long.Live.A$AP fails to match its hype with a coherent trend-setting statement.

It feels rushed, like it needed more time for its many ingredients to blend.

While The Cast of Cheers are shameless rip-off merchants on more than some occasions here, there's evidently ability at work, and a decent ear for a catchy chorus or two.

More often, however, Orbits has too much going on rather than too little.

If it were only possible to turn down the vocals, The No Testament would be a work of greater spiritual, and indeed secular, interest.

It's just 11 tracks of mediocre and easily forgettable American rock, devoid of any bells or whistles.

It's safe, something of a retreat from past endeavours to a sound more suited to commercial returns in the present.

It's incredibly pretty, but ultimately lacking in memorable moments.

These sky-surfing legends may have another great album in 'em yet, but for all its intermittently irie moments, Into the Future isn't it.

The mixture of emotions across Unapologetic just doesn't sit right.

Such dark lyrical tropes have served him well in the past, and even the blokey-but-sensitive shtick of his lovably clunky, WTF rhymes are part of a well-honed musical formula. But credit where it's due--he provides something for everyone.

For the most part this album, while as slickly produced as the classic pop it references, only faintly smoulders without igniting.

There's nothing tender here; clever it may be, but too clever for its own good.