The freeform mish-mash of sounds, scratches, samples, styles and lyrical themes is far too much of a mixed bag to have a wide appeal.

Despite their reputation as torch-bearers of the new post-rock prog, it lacks the outrageousness of the ‘70s version of the genre and there’s an earnest sameness to these pieces that render much of it tedious beyond belief.

Former Cranberries woman gives us too much of a good thing.

New York dreampop combo meander a bit.

Despite boasting another stellar line-up of guest vocalists, James Lavelle’s dance-rock project once again fails to convince.

Slick yet soulless second effort from Denver’s Answer to Coldplay.

Truly, this is music for the ringtone generation.

Four years in the making second album from Oz hard rockers.

RATM guitarist and hardcore troubadour participates in dodgy agit rap/rock experiment.

Not many tricks up their sleeves on this album. The Bronx make more of the same noisy, aggressive songs on an album with the same title as their last two.

Craig David's back, and in fairness, he makes a decent fist of it. However, David is hamstrung by trying to please both critic and fan.

Mixed up confusion.

The results are too often less-than-inspiring, and our Marilyn’s music has not established the sort of consistency required to atone for this lack of drama.

Ultimately, this is less a fully-formed debut than the tentative first few steps of a promising artist still finding her way.

Inoffensively bland offering from US indie pop outfit.

Earthbound offering from hyped to the heavens duo.

Ho-hum third record from brit chanteuse.

Wayward offering from hip hop legend with distinct lack of finesse.

Though hardly the disaster it could have been, then, The Stooges’ return feels unnecessary and, more importantly, undignified.

Underclass Hero is a perfectly workable North American punk rock album. It’s got melodic suss and a snotty attitude to its credit, but not much else.

Anyone hoping for another "Don’t Dream It’s Over" is going to find Time On Earth a disappointment.

Whatever personality Lewis has is smothered by an oppressive pre-ordained sense of direction: she sounds simply like another cog in an impressive, but, soulless machine.

Craggy eco-concept record not the car-crash it could have been.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it! Seal re-visits some soul classics, but dresses them up in a way that turns pure gold into something of a different color.

Thrillingly experimental hip-hop.

Sounding, for the most part, like a Stars In Their Eyes version of Cat Stevens, the album lacks variety, imagination and charisma.

Suddenly sullen Kooks produce a limp effort.

Teenage dreamer turns in nightmare of a second record.