At times uneven, the project stands as testament to the unique bond between these two A-list rap talents.

‘Everything I Thought It Was’ can sometimes be forgettable across its 18-track largesse, while thematically it feels bunched around a cluster of feelings.

‘COMING HOME’ competently portrays love as part Afrodisiac, part pulse-racing chase, part languorous and lived-in sensation. ‘COMING HOME’ is also tangential to the live spectacle, and that’s okay.

As with the twin EPs that preceded it, however, the glimpses of originality strewn across ‘Lovegaze’ are too often sparse islands in a sea of pleasant but generic etherea.

With a 19-track span and a colossal guest cast, not everything on ‘BLOCKBUSTA’ lands. There’s a feeling sometimes that these collaborations were done separately and then spliced together, with some moments lacking cohesion, or a sense of chemistry. ‘HOMAGE’ with Kodak Black feels flat, for example, while the record’s eclecticism prevents ‘BLOCKBUSTA’ from truly coalescing. That said, there are moments of real bravery.

Its primary strength lies in the way Drake threads himself and finds pockets within the grooves and crevices, foregoing lustre and grandiosity in favour of an understated performance piece. .... There’s an existential paranoia about this recent iteration of Drake, however.

This album is a step in the right direction in terms of mood, but it’s an overstep in terms of the emotional burden Brown is offering. The choruses are repetitive and don’t fit, and the take away should be focusing more on balance. However, it’s not a question of if he can get that balance right, but when.

Ultimately, the Achilles heel of the whole project is how invested, how much fans will truly believe in this. To some, it’s a meme stretched to breaking point, the elasticity of his flute-playing hauled out to become an opaque sheet, void of detail. To others, it’s an excellent – almost unclassifiable – mood piece. Whether it’s the meanderings of an internet-savvy millionaire or the crucial work of a modern day ambient auteur is perhaps in the eye of the beholder.

The chilled, languorous template delivers on value, but offers little else and you can’t help but feel like these are unnecessary filler tracks. At its core, ‘Scarlet’ is an interesting exploration into the world of ego trips, the trappings of fame, escapism and novelty, a welcome deviation with a heightened sense of maturity and finesse.

In truth, the material does a decent enough job of filling the acerbic, punk shaped void left since their decade long absence.

Overall, a pleasantly harmless album with some clear highlights. However, it will be interesting to see how the US singer varies her work as she begins her solo career.

Packing so much in comes at the risk of a more diluted sound and an album which lacks a strong sense of cohesive unity. This is most apparent in the first two ‘planets’, where the result is a little muddled. When not biting off more than they can chew by integrating three entirely different featured artists within a five track part (see ‘Off Planet Part 1’), the album is a fresh and interesting take on experimental electronica.

On occasion, the record feels quite lazy in its lyrical direction and yet too direct, falling into moments of cringe rather than what could have been perceived as powerful and fun.

Some moments are impressive, like the eight-minute epic of a title track ‘Take Me Back To Eden’, which sprawls and writhes between textures and knows just when to spotlight frontman Vessel’s holy outpourings. ... But the issue is, this opus comes over an hour into the album, and follows a number of lengthy tracks that seem to be trying to do the same thing, but less successfully.

Plays it safe, doubling down on the formula that made his debut so beloved by fans, while making only subtle changes.

‘Driving Just to Drive’ drives safely. Perhaps too safely. We may yearn for Maltese to put his foot down, but it could be argued there is solace in safety. Not everything has to be hell for leather.

The result is a solid, if overly safe album that avoids some of the pitfalls of the past but fails to ignite the heart.

‘The Price Of Progress’ is a perfectly functional Hold Steady record, no more and no less.

Courtesy of the blandly produced, overly-compressed vocal deliveries and guitar riffs from Jonas Brothers’ producer John Fields, the act all too easily fall into the inevitable trap of highly-structured song progressions backed by half-baked guitar solos on ‘Same Language’ and underwhelming chorus chants on ‘Kool’.

In her haste to tell her story, ‘My 21stCentury Blues’ suffers from a frenzied second half that cushions the gut-punch it could have been.

‘Five Easy Hot Dogs’ isn’t going to win DeMarco any more fans, nor will it distract from his past triumphs. ... This instrumental offering will, like most of his tunes, act as great company for those who just wanna lay back and disconnect from it all.

A record that feels very much like a side-step, ‘Me vs Myself’ contains little of the soul-searching that the title suggests.

If anything, however, new album ‘Faith In The Future’ is simply too nice. The songwriting is sturdy and well-formed, leaning on his indie roots – you can hear ghosts of the Gallaghers, whispers of Chris Martin – without ever truly channelling something dangerous, or edgy. ... It just doesn’t raise the pulse, or quicken the blood-flow in a way you might long for.

This new album, then, is the perfect piece of fan service. It’s Aubrey on the mic, 21 Savage in full flow. The roll out – which pirated a Tiny Desk session and copied a Vogue cover – was pitch perfect, two artists subverting the expectations placed on them...It’s a shame, then, that ‘Her Loss’ often feels entirely predictable. The foes that punctuate their bars are well-worn – less talented adversaries trying to gain clout; love interests who leech on their wealth and prestige – and while it’s nice to hear Drake unleashed, at times 21 Savage can feel like a passenger.

‘The Loneliest Time’ feels a far cry from the saccharine star that launched Jepsen’s career but proves her musical pliability.

This album is, to be clear, an ambitious, stylish, coherent work of fine art. ‘Tranquility Base…’ grew on me, this may too. But I can’t help but feel that with ‘The Car’, Arctic Monkeys have taken a wrong turn.

In spite of much of ‘CHARLIE’ missing complexity or a distinctive flair, the album remains punchy and bright and what Puth lacks in poetry, he makes up for with glimpses of pure pop excellence.

‘Doggerel’ isn’t a bad record, it’s just missing the audacious grit that is so entwined with the bizarre charm that makes the PIXIES so remarkable.