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.

While Amok--like The Eraser--is unlikely to arouse the same passions as, for instance, In Rainbows, it’s an often fulfilling and fascinating indulgence.

Cultdom seems assured at the very least, and How I Knew Her is less an album to yield all its myriad charms instantly, more one to slow-drip its way to adoration

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

This treasure trove of well-recorded European broadcasts from ORTF and Swedish Radio represents the first official CD set tracking Miles in transition from acoustic quintet to all-out fusion.

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.

This is the stuff of vicious hangovers, unkempt hair being head-banged back and forth furiously, and eyebrow-raising debacles on public transport.

It sounds amazing, and represents an astounding return.

Foals were already a mainstream presence; now, they’ve made an album properly reflecting that status.

It is dreamy and languid, warm and inviting in turn; a soulful work by a talented young singer-songwriter that hints at a bright and beautiful future.

Although it’s not perfect, We Will Not Harm You is a significant advance on [his] previous efforts.

This is their best album for years.

Thompson’s classic folk rock formula is revived once more, and his frequent guitar solos are as sour as his lyrical wit.

If there are discernible musical differences, it’s that there’s a little more clarity and slightly less reliance on the fuzz pedals.

Songs as bold, honest and passionate as these shouldn’t have any trouble fitting in.

Their aim isn’t always true: Armonica ladles effects onto Buttery’s vocal to cover up the paucity of its tune. But elsewhere, things come together quite beautifully.

It continues the band's long-running, idiosyncratic and distinctively creative career path.

Musselwhite's dialogue with Harper's soulful tenor and punchy guitar is pure Astaire and Rogers.

The 36 minutes of Mid Air [is] a masterpiece.

It's a soulful, self-contained delight.

Throughout, the lyrical clarity and emotional honesty of the band shine through, creating an album that is as much uplifting as it is in parts bleak.

[A] likeable, if light, follow-up.

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

This 10-track ode to the joys of a sad, sweet, mellow but occasionally dark and atmospheric love song is arranged with tender loving care and produced with just enough reverb to remind you of girl-group classics

The end-of-year lists for 2012 are barely gone from recent memory, but you can expect to read about Vertikal again in 11 months' time.

It's frequently beautiful, but perhaps too ephemeral an experience to establish a hold on anyone with more than music on their mind.

It's a solid, engaging and high-calibre Biffy Clyro album. And that's no bad thing.