The backbone is Allen’s afrobeat vibe, on top of which ten Haitian percussionists have piled on the voodoo grooves and chants. Pretty krautrockarama.

There's parts of On Desire that feel all too familiar, and there's parts that simply don't work. For every negative though there's a melody or lyric that makes it shine, and for that, the band are worth sticking with, at least for the time being.

Cerulean Salt isn’t boundary breaking, but it possesses qualities enough to leave one charmed, if not consistently captivated.

Often it feels more like an overly conscious art project rather than an album that will sustain repeated listening; it's undeniably, admirably beautiful in parts, but ultimately too consciously cerebral and self satisfied to love.

‘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.

So long as you can tolerate the musical hopscotch that a Barry Adamson album always represents, Know Where To Run is probably as good an introduction to this peripatetic musician as you're ever likely to need. Just make sure to expect the unexpected.

At times Letherette overreach and their ambition to contort every trend of the last decade into a singular structure feels forced. The album flourishes where the beats are fortified by accompanying charisma.

There are Pixies fans that would have preferred another ‘Doolittle’ instead, but Indie Cindy isn’t bad, not bad at all.

The repetitive beats and seemingly endless loops become, on the whole, tired and tedious too soon.

It won't appeal to those who prefer his party anthems and vibrant disco, but for those who want to see yet another side to this most prolific of musical minds, it's a voyage worth taking.

Easy to absorb musically and easy to ignore lyrically, Loud Like Love is 50 minutes of simply okay alt-rock.

The Scene Between is a happy remedy to a cynical industry and scary, un-groovy world. One listen and you'll be transported back to your teens--when some sunshine and a little dance would cure all.

It's far from perfect - 'Ghost Note' sounds horribly like Skrillex in places - but there [are] enough interesting sonic detours to suggest that these agitators of sound are more than just another over-hyped gimmick band.

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.

Despite the gloriously odd decision to place Treasures--a piece of music as fragile as the materialistic lifestyles it attacks--first in the tracklisting, there are no real surprises.

A record that has moments of brilliance but by virtue of trying to be a novelty record, actually comes closer to being a rehash of their previous work.

Whilst production and rhythms are excellent, the hooks (barring the album’s final lyric: “There’s so much bullshit comin’ out of your mouth”) often fall short.

Since that reboot 12 years ago, they don’t really know what they want to be. So they try all things, and only succeed at some.

A contemporary-pop triumph.

100 Acres... drips with sonic gloss.

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

The departure comes with tracks like ‘The Bee’, itself a pastiche of the trip-hop genre, while tracks like ‘Melifer’ fuse the distinctive Plaid sound with pretty Balearic guitar melodies to keep things interesting.

Although there's nothing exactly groundbreaking here, Policy packs plenty of personality and attitude.

While there’s nothing really here to ignite a flame of revolution, or indeed get fists in the air to be honest, Peace Trail sees Young doing what comes naturally, soundtracking tumultuous times with some confident and easy songwriting.

Following the trend set on previous effort ‘Olympia’, the beats continue to become crunchier, direct and undoubtedly more contemporary--but unfortunately less interesting also.

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

Third Avenue feels like a transitional project for Fredo, from his grittier street mixtapes to hopefully something more expansive. His inability to escape from his street-focused comfort zone is sometimes frustrating, especially when the project improves after he opens up later on in the album. But he gives us glimpses of a great project further down the line.

Whilst sonically Fixed Ideals can vary in its impact, Lande Hekt’s lyrics tell a relatable story in a crafty way, carrying the record all the way through.

Like a lot of their back catalogue, Keep The Village Alive is an enjoyable and solid, if unadventurous rock record anchored, as always, by that tremendous voice.

At times you wish their sound was edgier, that they'd go in the direction of their zanier peers Hot Chip and BadBadNotGood. Despite that minor criticism, their unique, funky take on pop is rarely less than fascinating.

Despite the two opposing moods of the album, the candid and dark lyricism is the only consistent effort in the album. It’s a massive shame, considering how much headway the band made with ‘Asymmetry’, but Mallory Knox have found themselves half a step behind their peers once again.

There are enough hair-raising moments here to anchor your skin and stop it crawling quite so much.

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

The sugar is here, but teeth will get itchier.

‘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.

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.

While by no means poor, this album does little to advance the reputation he has already secured, as one of the UK’s most reliable rap suppliers.

There is a defining (and high-definition) period where the mix becomes less interactive, a little noodlier, and more prey to a mass observing sway.

It’s not a bad record by any stretch, albeit one where the turgid does bump ugly against the terrific.

On their way to maturity, YSP!WSD! lost some of the punkiness that made them exciting, but they still have hooks and groovy synths, so the growth is graceful.

There isn’t much of a sense of flow to the album; the songs stand on their own as the poems were meant to stand on their own.

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

Bloated at 16 tracks, it could have been a genuinely strong EP that formed a platform for Dizzee’s return to the sound he helped birth.

It feels like a personal journey through the past on his part, and a genuine tribute from those who've contributed.

There’s still a fair amount of self indulgence, and the rare occasion on which you wish he’d stuck to the old habit of micro length tracks (‘HER’ being one such example), but on the whole it’s a well selected body of work.

They're still settling in at the start line, prescribing rose-tinted glasses that could very well divide listeners.

Soundgarden moved admirably forward with a strong new L.P, and while the performances missed some of the vitality of their youth, they still were able to invoke a tone and vibe all of their own.

Although Supermodel is derivative, it’s more often inventively imitative, rather than devolving into out-and-out mimicry.

No Tourists is unlikely to win The Prodigy any new fans but it’s unlikely to upset any existing ones. And really, if rave-influenced industrial dance is your thing, these old heads are still a cut above anyone else out there.

While one half of Phase sounds complete and polished, the other sounds unfinished, and unsteady. But the songwriting quality of the better cuts and the raw talent that underpins their delivery brings a fire to the record.

With the obvious potential fully realised, 'Improvisations’ could have become an instant cult classic, but in this raw, rushed and unfinished form it is hardly anything more than a collectible item for curious die-hard fans.

It will inspire obsessive fandom and moisten a few eyes, but Henson’s voice is something of an acquired taste.

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.

A fine line between unpredictable flair and china shop bull.

It’s hard not to feel like the lead singles live in their own sonic universe. The remaining album tracks, while lyrically co-ordinated, lack sonic cohesion.

Playful and melodic, Clash suggests that you take this on a Norfolk country ramble ASAP.

Accomplished again, then, and greatly engrossing throughout. It’s just lacking that crucial aspect of singular appeal to stand aside from a fiercely competitive pack.

The album is littered with so many clunky lines and cliched conspiracy talk it almost becomes laughable, but the main problem is with the narrative itself which makes next to no sense at all.... Luckily, a good sizeable chunk of this album is good enough to stand alone, stripped of the high-minded concepts.

Surprising and satisfying, we'll even try to forgive the spoken word interlude.

Love him or hate him, you can't deny that Ronson can certainly put an album together.

The music lacks the meditative quality of similar works like those by Philip Glass. In place of this, tracks like ‘Sunshimmers’ and ‘The Amazon: The Highlands’ produce a warmness that makes the album an agreeable experience, an experience that does not ensnare the listener’s attention.

Unashamedly broad, it can lack detail and punch; yet ‘=’ has something about it that is difficult to shrug off, while being hard to truly relate to.

A fine sound indeed, but one that could have been better with a shade more variety injected into proceedings.

A bold gesture weighed down with excess, 'The Voice Of The Heroes' is a worthy experiment, one that feels destined to be a cult favourite.

It makes for a focused, solid offering.

It's All Real continues along the same lines: lush production, low-key bleeps and bloops, a hushed, lovelorn 2am ambience.

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

For the most part, it’s actually pretty entertaining.

Commendably still opting for spontaneity after all these years, the lads have whittled down some dance-tinged jams into workable songs and the result is an LP that, while unfocused, still has plenty of drive and energy.

The good tracks on 'Body Talk' are of such a high quality that it definitely makes it worthwhile to check this album out but you are soon left with a feeling that the subsequent releases in this series will cobble together one amazing album and one really bad one.

This is principally a marriage of simple, forlorn fretwork and O’s deliciously otherworldly vocals: impossibly, she manages to sound simultaneously seductive and indifferent; emotive yet also strangely detached.

Soft Control is a carefully crafted debut that comes from a very real place and shows what can be achieved when you keep pushing forward.

There’s a lack of precision, with a flabby middle section finding ‘Begin To Begin’, for example, looping aimlessly. Yet when it hits home, Reality Testing more than justifies Lone’s tag as one of the most flexible, dextrous producers in the game.

Lianne La Havas has grown up, branched out, written some devastatingly honest songs, and presented a highly competent album.

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.

'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.

Ultimately, as a standalone record, Nothing feels somewhat incomplete.

Despite the overarching quality of the album, its continual, dirge-like range of instrumentation can become a little stifling and songs risk blending into one another.

A beautiful recording but an occasional listen.

It’s not a bad record – the highs more than justify your entrance – but with a rumoured follow up on the way, perhaps it’s time for Future to break a few of his own rules once more.

Enthusiasts will salivate over another uncovering of tainted treasure.

The real issue is that in a genre filled with imitators, many whom Deerhunter no doubt inspired, we need a bit more bang for our buck. When the oddities on this album ride so high they should have let complete weirdness take over.

The blistering debut is a collection of delightfully pungent tracks, delivered in all their unashamed, reckless glory.

There are some real moments of beauty on the record - 'In Blur' aches and sparkles, whilst singles 'Great Mass Of Colour' and 'The Gnashing' showcase a band adept at building beautiful soundscapes even with the guitars turned down - but at a certain point, the album suffers from the lack of depth in Clarke’s vocals, or range in his melodies.

The problem with any soundtrack is that, in isolation, something gets lost and there's no exception here, but it serves as a showcase for a virtuoso performer with the dexterity to excel within any discipline.

An interesting experiment.

On occasions it’s a disappointing walk through ‘hardcore by numbers’ routines peppered in clever imagery and breakneck instrumentation.

A bold, contained statement nonetheless, doubling down on her niche style with a few twists and turns brings us some truly great moments to cherish.

It’s patchy then, but there’s enough quality here to suggest Croll is capable of better things in the future.

Valtari is glistening, subliminal and sounds as if it's balanced on a falling raindrop.

It’s overwhelming in its grandiosity, and though it has its virtues, Foxygen’s latest LP is best enjoyed as a bite-size hors d'oeuvre instead of a main course.

Spanning an array of genres including worldbeat, jazz, classical, blues, rock and new-age, 'Duets' is an solid collection from one of the UK’s most prolific singer-songwriters.

A rejig and a little more fire could have elevated this collection to something that’ll get the heart racing.

It's a microcosm for the muddled thinking that holds Ludaversal back.

Older, wiser, still rocking: Mould’s sounding as electric as ever.

Begin may be more of a reverential piece of art than a novel creation, but there is enough substance here to surmise Lion Babe’s future promise.

The pair still aren’t in that DFA1979 category of combatively brilliant, just yet.

From opener ‘Cheap Talk’ onwards, this is never anything but the purest DFA1979, served flaming hot. Which was just fine back when--but it’s definitely a disappointment to not hear the band even hinting at an expansion of their stripped-raw sound, just deep-groove bass and heavily hit drums.