Deceptively hard to resist.

Despite a preponderance of uptempo songs that puts Freedom in similar territory to Ne-Yo, the record is still very recognisably Akon.

If not a match for the brilliant yet underperforming 'Big', The Sellout certainly maintains high and admirably consistent standards.

Where the likes of [Gwen] Stefani and co manage to tie eclectic albums together with the strength of their personality, Fergie never actually comes close to showing what she really sounds like, leaving "The Dutchess" as an exceptionally random R&B mixtape.

Winner Stays On proves that crossing over needn't be a terrible business.

A bit of judicious pruning to remove the filler tracks would have resulted in a cohesive, dynamic album that would have easily been their best release to date.

A darkly, slathering record of frustration and disillusionment, “Language. Sex. Violence. Other?" may, in time, even come to be seen as one of the true masterpieces of the noughties guitar revival.

It shows that respecting your roots needn't result in stagnant, bookishly reverent music, and that learning your history can be a fine way of looking forward.

Carr has always wanted to create his very own sound, and for the first time we are starting to hear it here.

Essentially a homage to The Jackson 5/Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder and fellow Minnesotan Prince, "The Handler" proves that Har Mar possesses a fine R&B baritone, is an able rapper and pens exceedingly funky, party-primed tunes with a perfect pop core.

It's no pop masterpiece to rival The Beatles, Madonna or Michael Jackson's best. But then again, few things are. If however the bench marks are Aguilera and Pink, it's only fair to say that Ms Hilton or rather her album, holds its own.

While Lasers isn't the equal of its superb predecessors, there's still much here to admire; even though the fact that there isn't quite as much to love is no real surprise.

While there's nothing as irresistibly catchy as "Under Rug Swept"'s magnificent "Hands Clean", the overall impression, musically speaking, is one of freshness, optimism and energy. But better still, it's smart, and sussed, and frequently funny as hell.

Does it offer us an exclusive window into Slash's soul? No. Is it a neat CV and a sneaky way of auditioning the next Velvet Revolver singer? Probably. Like any other mixtape from a friend, listen to it in the car, then stick it in the cupboard under the stairs with the others.

That's the thing about Asleep In The Bread Aisle, it's all about promising potential, rather than the delivery of it.

It's not vintage and it doesn't finally deliver what the hype of "Psyence Fiction" promised, but given enough time it's an album you could learn to love.

Raises the nu-metal bar by weaving maturity, passion and the craft of songwriting into its steaming pile of passive-aggressive chord chomping.

Forget all you know about Christina Aguilera. She's discovered sex, rebellion, rock'n'roll and, at one amazing instant, drum'n'bass.

Essentially, Oasis have tentatively begun to master the art of becoming veterans: writing songs that reflect their circumstances and not a mythical image of what they once were; songs that suggest there's life in the old beast yet.

'White Lilies Island' sees Imbruglia free herself from the Alanis Morissette-clone image that you sense was very much forced last time around and actually manage to carve out an identity, both in her vocals and as a personality.

At its best 'Wishville' recalls the finest hours of Psychedelic Furs and Mancunian goth heroes The Chameleons and at its worst, the pomp stadium rock of Simple Minds.

If his family and creditors truly cared about Michael Jackson's legacy, they would now let it and him rest in peace. And chimps will fly...

Not extraordinary music, but music that hits the nail right on the head of what constitutes good R&B: flawless vocals, opulent harmonies, and easy, reliable melodies.

Souljaboytellem.com is hardly a revelation. Its strength though is its simplicity.

Undoubtedly one of the year's strangest releases.

Musically and vocally, there's few surprises but at least lyrically he's moved on from clever-ish wordplay and inane love songs, to tell tales of being generally screwed-up at the hands of the multi-million dollar pop machine.

Sophie's chart positions may have dropped, but there's no dip in the quality pop on offer here.

Amazingly, perhaps, this is a cogent, compact and really quite good record, one that mixes upbeat, perhaps slightly clinical R&B with uber-ballads and occasional snatches of what appears to be an attempt at intimacy.