Hutchcraft might be the real problem here: he’s good at what he does, but he only does one thing: big and sad and serious.

Ultimately, it seems that the likes of Springsteen, Dylan, and the rest of the well-worn idols, call many more of the shots than Blitzen Trapper as an independent entity.

Every Open Eye seems neutered, the rough edges sanded back on an album that fits a mould more than it breaks it--which given the band’s confrontational media stance seems something of a waste.

You’ll probably like this album if you’re a metal fan. But don’t expect it to enlighten you.

The Lawrence bros do pull some new tricks on Caracal. But the album marks the end of Disclosure as a band, and the beginning of Disclosure as a hit-dispensing enterprise that manufactures durable, no-stain, easy-to-clean products to please every audience.

An album that wouldn't be out of place if it had come out 30 years ago.

For all Method’s moments of individual brilliance--“Rappers don’t really ride they piggy back/I’ll trade them all to have 2Pac and Biggy back”--clarity is lost in the sheer number of guest appearances.

There’s nothing to break the mould here, nothing that stands out and surprises like ‘Dakota’ did.

It’s not going to convince anyone new to pick up Duran Duran's records and it doesn’t surpass their previous work.

This feels like an opportunity missed; his defences are never truly down, and we’re only offered tantalising glimpses of what might have been.

Although on the relative straight and narrow, the band have lost none of their attitude.

What The World Needs Now... is solid proof that reformations never sound good on record.

Sadly what Yours, Dreamily needs is a little bit of oomph every now and again to wake us, and the rest of the band from our collective stupors. Even compared to his debut solo album, this feels second rate.

Ultimately, expectedly, Rock 'N' Roll is a functioning collection of… well, rock'n'roll songs, and, save for the odd cringer, entirely passable.

As odd of a notion it is, as a setlist for a show, Weirdo Shrine is a miraculous endeavour to behold, but as an album, it suffers because of its untamed splendour.

While Don Broco’s desire not to retread old ground is commendable, their stated desire to focus on what makes them stand out as a rock band has fallen a little flat.

Nocturnes comes off as a monochrome drag.

The truth is that, for possibly the first time in Yo La Tengo’s discography, they're a bit boring.

Whilst Deradoorian’s ambitions were undoubtedly high in creating The Expanding Flower Planet, the end result is more miss than hit, leaning too heavily and too often on dense harmonies at a slow pace which ends in a record lacking cohesion and direction.

It is sprawling, messy, and bursting at the seams--but certainly when listening to it, you see how it could have worked with a bit of quality assurance.

On occasion, it’s actually borderline thrilling but those moments are too few and far between.

The four Californians smother their country-fried rock with more southern tropes than a gravy-sodden biscuit, from the bits of blues and gospel and old timey R&B.

As an alternative introduction to one of our greatest bands, or a gateway towards getting to know them a little better, it is excellent. If you’re a superfan already, then the novelty of having this particular collection of songs you already own in a nice gatefold package is about as far as it will go.

It’s left to the previously-released singles to save Dornik from disappointing mediocrity.

When Grossi nails the sweet spot between these two poles the result is nigh-on perfection (Curtis Lane’s 'I'm In Your Church at Night' and 'Hanging On' from 2011’s gorgeous You’re All I See to seize on the most obvious). The disappointment with Mercy is that he never quite finds that spot to the same extent.

The lyrics ring true enough, but not forcefully enough to really resonate with any depth.

Born in the Echoes isn’t the sound of stagnation, nor the grim realisation of irrelevance, and there are numerous flourishes that can only come from a knowing skill set, but in the end, it’s only just good enough.

Pattern of Excel is a difficult album. It subverts your expectations and deliberately goes against what convention would suggest in terms of direction and vibe.