Unfortunately, whichever way you try and dress it up, frippery and kitsch alone isn’t enough to carry this album.

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

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.

As a pop-object, Interiors is far more convincing than its predecessor; as a musical experience it is still, regrettably, thin.

Leila's awkwardness doesn't pay off here: this time round, it's almost like a disguise for lack of inspiration rather than greater depths.

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

Bundick never quite detaches from the sound here, and if he languishes there any longer he’s liable to go down with the ship.

Alicia Keys is a singer-songwriter in the purest sense, and Girl On Fire is at its best when Keys (and her collaborators) remember that.

MU.ZZ.LE isn't the perfect album either, but it is another bizarre step in the unfolding vision of a very unique voice, a tantalizing and far too brief hint at something magnificent to come.

Weird Drift is a little laid back, lacking the vertiginous drama that you find in the best synth-pop, and I’m more inclined to stick with another recent Planet Mu foray into the form, Miracle’s overlooked Mercury.

There’s no pandering to musical tastes, no whimsical experimentation, but instead real unity between a song’s musicality and meaning.

Despite DeGraw’s earnestness and the many good ideas that are in there, SUM/ONE‘s sense of free rein results in something garishly over the top--a bit like reversing your cases when trying to write a serious point.

On Pluto, Future does his best to build a coherent album around these hits. He succeeds; the problem is that it's too coherent.

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.

Despite her undoubted vocal talents, she doesn't possess the authority to sell the bluster of her lyrics.

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.

Adrian Thaws is not without its moments.... Elsewhere, it’s a story of misfiring ideas and botched experiments.

Despite her Instagram and “turnt-up” references, the bounce brought to the album by of-the-moment hitmakers like MikeWiLLMadeIt and Hit-Boy and her undeniably personal subject matter, the record just doesn’t have the same candid, bold edge that characterised Beyonce’s huge statement.

Silver may believe in the changeless beauty of his art, but he doesn’t quite succeed in convincing the rest of us.

Up and down we go, and each time the adrenaline rush lessens.

Generally the album hits all the right notes, with great vocals and solid sounds, but at times you may be overpowered by the sickly-sweet nature of the beast.

The production on Dirty Gold--generic, consistently uninspired, gauche--bears absolutely no relation to the album’s subject matter, and jars horribly with Haze’s dark forceful flow.

In My World is a counterpoint to McQueen’s recent work: while the introduction of vocals reveals another side to Matthewdavid, the humour--too often overplayed--is its weakness element.

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.

It may well appeal to those content with downtime after more forthright records. As an album, however, Evelyn’s good mood sits somewhere between decisive and whimsical.

Instead of updating his sound and style for a contemporary audience, Prisoner of Conscious comes off as a series of half measures.

For all this record’s gesturing towards pop directness, it is sorely lacking in impact and in memorability.

MDNA runs the gamut of quality from ghastly to mediocre to brilliant, but it's not the unmitigated disaster that many feared.