The project doesn’t really find the band moving outside their comfort zone – indeed, ‘Candid’ is defined almost by how resolutely ‘Whitney’ it feels.

'Limbo' is certainly not a representation of his best work, but rather an example of a talented artist not pushing his boundaries.

‘Under My Influence’ is a bold undertaking, but, at times, it feels unfinished. While many singles and supplementary songs showcase the band’s talent, much of the record weighs in as forgettable filler sounds that take some time in getting accustomed to.

It’s an album that Beths fans will doubtless like very much, and it offers a strong mission statement to the future that this is a band hungry to expand and determined to explore the hitherto untrodden ground. It’s just a shame that, on this project alone, they’ve not delivered anything of career-defining merit.

The full length return of The Streets, it offers Mike Skinner at his most vivid and most forgettable, offering moments of illumination before retreating into darkness.

At times, ‘Lil Baby 3’ comes close to grappling with maturity, but Lil Yachty’s version of adulthood feels distinctly shallow.

Playing it safe just a little too often, it finds John Legend in full flow, demonstrating his undeniable versatility – yet it can also appear to be covering the bases, offering breadth for the sake of breadth.

The songs are a little more distinctive, and they’re crafted a little better.

It’s a fairly middle-of-the-road indie record. It could do with a little more depth, a little more humanity.

The first half of the album is particularly monotonous, with the one-man band fervently spewing similar hooks that show very little dynamism and only serve a purpose to maintain a foot tapping rhythm.

'A Billion Heartbeats' perhaps lacks the cutting perspective or lyricism of classic protest records, while managing to present the revolutionary spirit of old in a modern context.

It’s an accomplished album, but it feels like a debut and there is nothing here that gives any kind of excitement or majorly distinguishing feature that comes with time.

Unlike the release of his second studio album, KIRK released last year, a major fraction of 'Blame It On Baby' lacks effort and even originality.

Enter Shikari have the tools and drive to create something potentially mind-blowing, it’s just that they fell well short of the mark on this occasion.

‘42.26’ - unmasked as the previously released ‘Feels Like Summer’ - and ‘47.48’ (which features his son Legend Glover) are the only other enjoyable tracks on the project. The other songs seem to fade and ultimately becomes background noise with no proper substance compared to Donald Glover’s other projects. Lacking the strong narrative thrust so apparent on his past albums, the project is incredibly disappointing.

For all its crystallised pop production, ’Ricky Music’, can’t help but feel flat. More concerned with evoking a feeling and mood rather than say anything explicit about the sadness, confusion and joy that Maine has experienced in the creation of the record beyond broad stereotypes of sadness.

The main problem with ‘Changes’ is that it isn’t exciting or dynamic and suffers from dragging in places. Part of this is down to the lack of variation on the album.

As an exercise in reclaiming control, in setting out her stall, it is a definite success, a hand-made pop exercise in an era dominated by algorithmic marketing plans. As a listening experience, though, it’s somewhat limited and frustratingly repetitive, ultimately paling next to La Roux’s previous heights.

‘Funeral’ is a mixed bag, and feels more like 24 tracks Lil Wayne had lying around than a coherent project. It’s a shame, because there’s a very good album somewhere in the 24 tracks on offer, but it’s weighed down by a lot of filler.

Compared to the previous self-titled record the features here are in sharp contrast, with less of a hip-hop emphasis. That doesn't mean they're not interesting, though.

Candy’s uncompromising approach has been a breath of fresh air when providing guest verses in the past, but a whole album of pornographic paeans will leave you feeling limp.

LAHS is the sound of a band in transition. A record where the sunshine is too few and far between. They’ll surely be back on track before long, but for now, we’re going to have to look elsewhere for that aural vitamin D.

While the album is as subtle as a brick to the face, there is an impressive mix of styles represented on the band’s third outing, making this their most versatile listen.

On an album centring around concepts of storytelling and reflection, Iggy Pop’s voice remains phenomenal. It always will. However, an underwhelming feeling lingers throughout 'Free', one which is hard to ignore.

It is an interesting concept -that could have become a beacon for the perspectives of (male) feminists in music- that failed because it was executed poorly a few too many times.

THE S.L.P is safe. It’s the untainted evidence of a missed opportunity. Frankly, someone of Serge’s caliber could have plunged deeper into the void of sonic exploration. There’s always a next time.

GINGER is new ground for Brockhampton, and a gentle nudge to others, urging them to go on their own paths of rediscovery and explore their roots. Thing is, we might need a bit more than a gentle nudge.

Additions such as Kash Doll and Juicy J are perfect on paper, but beyond justifying their individual presence in the rap realm, do little to save a project which unfortunately suffers from the sophomore slump.