Whether or not an attempt to be faithful to the original recordings (which kind of defeats the purpose), his compositions are, while lyrical, touching and impressively accomplished, fairly middle of the road.

At the moment, it feels like he's clinging tenaciously to the edge of disco's seamy grandeur: held there by a certain stiffness, seriousness even.

By and large, Overjoyed works when it rocks--the snarling chugga-chugga of “Do It Nation”, the nursery-rhyme feedback shredding of “Overjoyed And Thankful”--and falls a little flat when it doesn’t.

There’s often a disconnect between the production and what’s going on vocally, the two elements at times even working at cross purposes.

Even if his chops as a producer aren’t in question, the writing on Xen is too patchy to fully realise Ghersi’s ambitions. Still, it’s hardly lacking in ideas.

If you dislike fidgetty edits and squealing high frequencies fine--go and listen to Eleh--but if you like dance music crashing into the most mainstream of the mainstream on a skateboard, being cheeky, rude, funny and giving you a massive rush when you listen to it, then here it is. Recess. Enjoy.

It’s all genre-splicing and too little genre-defining, and I can’t help but think that Martyn, with both his musical knowledge and his production chops, is capable of something better.

It’s Too Late is a woozy, scattershot thing--Late Night Drake, if you will.

So safely, solidly familiar is Hawk's third album that it's enough to make you nostalgic for the sound as it splutters on its deathbed.

In patten’s world the fizz of intellect is an end in itself, rather than a means to some sort of insight. Which is enjoyable in moderation, but mostly just frustrating.

More of a step sideways, then, but one which keeps us very much interested in what comes next.

If anything, they illuminate an increasingly formulaic approach that, in its attempt to express extremes of human emotion, ends up saying not very much at all.

It’s an honest album, and while you may not skip back to all of it, its jagged pieces all have their place.

A delicate thing, and for all its studied complexity sometimes comes off a touch insubstantial.

It's not a classic album, but its contents implicitly argue that the concept of a "classic album" has become irrelevant in 2012 anyway.

Supermeng is a refinement of Shirach's sound, exhibiting what you might call a newfound maturity. But when being puerile and provocative is your schtick, that's not necessarily a good thing.

While the lyrical content can be a little prescriptive in places, all of Womack's contributions are frank, honest and humble

Unfortunately, dependable lounge ambience this ain’t; as the album progresses, any sense of cohesion or purpose is quickly lost to the sheer density and variety of ideas.

It does occasionally miss the mark, but that there are any hits to speak of at all shows that Eno and Hyde have a good deal more to offer than the uninspiring gruel of their debut.

Yet despite having created a record that admirably challenges pop conventions, Black Dice could let a little more of the tradition in to help shape their material further and get the most from this direction.

There are moments of dynamism, like the excellent quivering steppers’ bassline in ‘Time’, or ‘In’’s disemboweled grime-pulse sounds. But even these tracks feel weighed down by a relentless paranoiac mood that soon begins to tire, their gestures sparse and restrained in a manner that’s presumably meant to be evocative, but often just feels unadventurous.

The result is unexpected; thick, major label-backed, acoustically driven independent pop songs with a folkish tinge, laced with soft electronics and David Bryne-like vocals. BBC Radio 2 beckons.

While the sense of humor that separates him from someone like Gucci Mane emerges at times, the brief grins are not quite enough to distract from the relentless, repetitive tropes that have come to define Juicy’s (and the rest of the rap game’s) lyrics over the past few years.

Transistor Rhythm is a well-made but forgettable album by someone who, given past form, I'd expected more from.

Even when new ideas poke their way through, the knowledge in the back of your mind of how great a Terror Danjah album in 2012 could and should be sours the tight-lipped lack of fun on display here.

How you find Document And Eyewitness will depend on your appetite for artistic bloody mindedness. Still, if you’re a fan of Wire, you’ll know it can be moreish.

The fact is, what we're presented with here isn't filler exactly, but it's certainly not killer either.

The album's middle section treads water--'The Palace' passes by without making any impression whatsoever, '1313′ sounds like a more conventional Panda Bear--and then it all goes tits up.