The latest in a long line of frustratingly hit and miss solo efforts.

"Sexor" is one of the more diverting and consistent dance records of recent times, and certainly one of the most fun.

It's more a rescinded lesson in demographics, with disc one seemingly aimed at airbrushing out the last vestiges of Knowles' credibility in favour of a procession of lame pop ballads in a Shakira or even Shania Twain-ish mould.

Three albums in, their belief that success and integrity don’t have to be mutually exclusive, is finally starting to pay off.

A great straight-down-the-line rock 'n' roll album.

When you don't have the fun of playing spot-the-steal, all you're left with are wishy washy pastiches and a sense of growing fatigue.

Throughout most of Untitled, Kelly seems to have taken the worst aspects of "Trapped In The Closet"--it's over-the-head relentless melodies and lyrics--and decided that they'll work in a song until the repetition instead relegates it to wallpaper.

Rarely lifting itself above mere mediocrity the album is no doubt destined to provide background music at thirty-something dinner parties and sedate wine bars.

The first truly great rock band of the 21st century.

As much as Nelly likes to portray himself as everybody’s favourite fun-filled club star, “Suit” suggests that writing thoughtful, intelligent and enduring R&B is where his heart really lies.

Their third, Happiness Ltd, is a sulky teenager, and about as attractive and engaging as that suggests.

Before I Self Destruct needs as many bells and whistles as it can muster, because the music isn't going to cut it on its own.

Although it is an immensely enjoyable experience featuring often breathtaking dexterity and turntable trickery, it rarely deviates from a strictly old school template.

In drawing on rock, hip hop, electro, drum 'n' bass and early electronic artists, Van Helden mirrors the developments dance acts have been making in the UK and Europe, rather than US artists.

It's when Diddy adopts the role he's really good at, the executive producer - bringing together and overseeing the real talent - for the closing stages, that "Press Play" moves from being another chaotic and bloated stab at a rap career to being something approaching a great album.

Sweet, vibrant and sunny songs with just as much invention and passion as 2000's buzz-building early EPs.

R.O.O.T.S. is so crushingly flat that it should waft between the cracks unnoticed.

Way more consistent than your average over-long US R&B release, whilst still being stuffed with just as many potential singles.

The Sun And The Moon", The Bravery's down-to-earth approach ought win them a second chance.

There's something about the determinedly primal recording techniques and clunky, 'we-just-learnt-this-today!' instrumentation that doesn't ring true.

David Gray might not fit most people's definitions of a revolutionary artist, but he's effected his own startling transformation here.

Beginning with the juddering monstrosity that is the live version of 'Third Eye', there is no doubt that the band want to be judged as an epic attraction. It's unfortunate that they've chosen to lengthen some of the tracks to the point of monotony.

They've turned into Morcheeba. A blunt appraisal, yes, but them's the facts.

Unfortunately, over a third of the songs on this album are ballads, and most of them are fillers at that.

If anything the songs might be less hungry than on their debut and less nimble than its follow-up, but it is sure-footed and firmly directional and they have no trouble reaching the benchmark they'd previously set themselves.

Although Bombay Bicycle Club can't quite hold a torch to the all-conquering returning Maccabees, they're an armful short of effortless anthems for that, but they prove themselves worthy of operating in their shadow.

Walk it Off is certainly not for everyone; but if you tire of quick fix indie and are craving something a little more cerebral to get your teeth into, it requires immediate investigation.

Alanis is back on course and heading in the right direction.