What saves Grey Oceans is the occasional good idea: the Eastern-tinged Smokey Taboo mixes tablas and wilting strings with Bianca's woozy, half-rapped vocal to impressive effect, while the very peculiar Fairy Paradise is, more or less, Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy as remixed by Paul van Dyk.

Fewer Pro Tool and more risks, and Dhani might just be onto something.

There is truly nothing edgy about this collection.

There are some fine songs on Natural History, which deserve better than being presented as if they were museum exhibits.

While lyrical simplicity is welcomed when attached to music that dazzles, here it regularly sounds predictable.

By trying to interpret a whole new landscape and atmosphere, Howling Bells have compromised their strengths in an awkward attempt to force themselves into a new style.

Apart from the odd soulful moment and some clever production, there is nothing here that sets them apart from their obvious influences.

Something for the Rest of Us is every bit as easy on the ear as each of their albums has been since 98's big-league breakthrough, Dizzy Up the Girl.

Right now, for all its impressive fireworks, it feels hollow as its title.

Stone packs all the power you expect, but her control misfires enough for some of these tracks to never quite click as they might.

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.

La Liberación is so fixated on exhibiting its sense of fun that it forgets how to finish ideas in the process.

"Quite listenable" sums up most of Future History.

Though not without its charms, Endlessly is too slight and uneven to impress unconditionally.

Hollywood Undead are content to deliver cliches--more out of a lack of imagination than cynical opportunism, but it still smacks of both. That's why to seasoned ears or any genre fan requiring more than more of the same, they're very, very boring.

The lyrics aren't the only thing holding EFUNK back: Soul Clap's chugging pace drags on the heels of their most anthemic numbers.

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

Ultimately, Form & Control serves it purpose as a ready-made playlist for your next party, but perhaps the band's oversimplifying of its sound has stripped away some of its mystique in the process.

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

One wonders if those responsible for this platter of past-perishable pop mimicry, these clichéd regurgitations of ubiquitous motifs, are indeed the same Danes who wowed admirers of sparkly melodies and insatiable hooks only a single springtime equinox ago.

It is, essentially, a pop record to stick on and sing along to. If that was Kassidy's aim, to have fun and make people dance, they've undoubtedly succeeded. But don't come looking here for anything more profound than that.

Blue Slide Park ends up a charm-bereft everyman hip hop record merely ticking boxes required to shift units.

Try as he might, Barat can run, to Europe and beyond, but he will always find it hard to hide from his past.

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.

Whether Goodbye Lullaby was all a tad over thought, or whether she's just holding back, the finished product falls significantly short of Avril Lavigne's own capabilities.

At times Credo sounds like The Human League of today trying to be The Human League of the past, which makes for uncomfortable listening. That said, it's probably still better than it has any right to be, given the time between the group's hits and their missing out on chart positions nowadays.

Style and gravitas are all very well--if Hurts could also have been consistent with the substance, Happiness would have trounced its 80s counterparts and many of its contemporaries, too.

They get full marks for effort but, unfortunately, not for the end results.