Familial is a solo album that has qualities you might not have expected to begin with: vivid, memorable lyrics that describe a variety of emotions, its incredibly soft arrangements and, of course, the fact that he can actually sing, proving wrong the famous 'drummers are not frontmen' rock'n'roll myth in the process.

Despite it taking four years to come out, pretty much all of the songs on Always Tomorrow are forgettable, and made up of riffs so basic and hooks so anonymous that you’ll probably end up wishing they’d have waited a little longer.

Without wishing to unduly gloss over the intermitting albums, Outbursts captures and builds upon the intangible beauty of their debut effort. Turin Brakes are, once again, a must-hear.

It's not a bad record, but by The Zutons' own extremely high standards, it's a disappointment.

The result of the flawless playing and polished production, however, is ultimately a too-perfect sound, lacking drama and grit. With his darkest years behind him, Wilson seems willing to use only the brightest colours in the paintbox.

The record drags when it should soar.

Salute is an undeniably solid album, and has a lot more going for it than similar efforts from many of Little Mix’s pop peers this year.

It might not break any new ground but there'll be few albums this year as enjoyable as this one.

Neither virtuosic nor devoid of a sense of pitch, he achieves something equally important to both in terms of significance--believability.

While it hasn't got them to their destination, this album is a definite step in the right direction.

A well crafted album that takes a fascinating journey through the history of American rock music, geography and pharmaceuticals.

While there’s no doubt that Fire Within is a positive progression for Birdy, it is not without its faults. On occasions she does slip back into the formulaic territory that encompassed many of the covers on her debut.

At times feels too regimented, leaving you wishing that he would just relax a little and drop the self-consciousness that gets carried along through the tracks.

Whenever Carpenter sings, the music seems to adopt different qualities--more reflective and melancholy perhaps – but not in an introverted way. Her tone is also brighter and more outward reaching. It is this further meeting of worlds--unforced and compelling--that makes Motorcade Amnesiacs such a successful work.

The term ‘easy listening’ is a little taboo these days, often replaced with the more benign label ‘ambient’, but these ditties represent the former in every meaningful sense.

Transparency is the sound of a band restlessly searching for a new direction and pulling it off very well.

As nice as it is (and this is a very tasteful album, seemingly tailor-made to be bought for Mothers Day), Angel Face doesn’t give us much idea of who Stephen Sanchez is, apart from a seemingly nice young man with an extraordinary voice.

This is certainly an album of progression that is likely to win the band plenty of new fans, but it shouldn't alienate their fanbase either.

Apparitions is merely a debut album from a young band who know their way around electronics and textures a hell of a lot better than most other young bands. And although at times it seems like they're copying right off of Merriwether Post Pavilion's paper, they muster just enough creative vision to avoid lawsuit-level infringement.

The Cat is back, albeit more of a moonshadow of his former self and lacking some purr and bite.

As a whole, Dreams is a bleak affair, Diamond sounding often forlorn and beaten, most notably on a morose, slowed down reimagining of his own 1966 tune, I'm A Believer, which became The Monkees' biggest success.

Atari Teenage Riot in 2011 are as raw and self indulgent as they ever were, and while their comeback record won't seal their place in history, those who loved them the first time around will lap it up.

So, while you couldn't call this effort beige, it is still clear to see that it is lacking the necessary punch to make it a classic.

The vibe is almost complete but not quite, and it's puzzling.

How good is A Weekend In The City? At times, it's brilliant: bold, forthright and honest.

New album Delta Machine is about more than simple fulfillment--going one further to actively excite, as it lays the template for some of the band’s most vigorous, energetic material in 15 years.

On the strength of his recent chart performances, Harris is currently riding a crest of a wave, so he's clearly doing something right. But it feels like he's sacrificed some of his creativity in favour of simplistic and unimaginative output.

This is a filler-free exercise that sees the band appealing to their purists and pushing their output forward at the same time.

Fortunately, there are a handful of songs here to be able to do that [listen and enjoy], if only fleetingly and not particularly in the original Hurricane #1 mould; for most of us though, we’re just happy to still have him around.

At times, Alpha Games does hark back to the glorious early days of Bloc Party, and while this doesn’t quite measure up to Silent Alarm, there’s enough evidence that the band’s line-up changes have reinvigorated them.

When you get him on his own he's up for a big night out. Just don't expect him home til dawn.

May not be groundbreaking, but it's a solid first album.

It makes for interesting listening, sitting sonically as it does between Frahm's minimalism and the rich swathes of A Winged Victory For The Sullen.

Compared to some of Primal Scream’s bold ventures in the past, it may be a bit lightweight, but it’s full of effervescent appeal.

A return to form, then.

This album does indeed show a band running with a newly discovered sense of freedom.

There are enough highlights here that make this a very enjoyable, if unvaried, record.

It is hard to ignore how limited, both musically and lyrically, the Darling Arithmetic tracks sound when played alongside their predecessors. However, despite its limitations, Villagers’ latest LP does succeed in producing some very worthy reinterpretations and weaving them seamlessly together, which is often easier said than done.

It’s easy to appreciate and admire, but difficult to enjoy.

It may not contain anything as seismic as 'First Wave Intact,' from their debut "Now Here Is Nowhere," but the band's self-titled third album reasserts the Secret Machines identity whilst revealing a fragile underbelly.

While Violens draw from strong influences, they capture their potency only fleetingly. Amoral is a worthwhile listen, with stand out tracks that hold much promise. As yet, though, there's too much that leaves you, like that promise, unfulfilled.

It is better than the eponymous debut, although not to the level that their self-satisfaction with it would suggest, and there is still a distinct lack of consistency and a feeling that occasionally while you can see who and what they're aiming at, they miss quite considerably.

Therapy is a well-balanced record that plays to Anne-Marie’s strengths, complete with glossy production and hooks to keep the avid pop fan humming.

Eerie, melancholy and yet strangely soothing, The Deserters is an album to treasure, whatever the season.

They have made a patchy record that’s very much intended for loyal followers who have completely bought into their long established aesthetic.

They’ve never really risen to heights that maybe they should have scaled but with so many infectious pop melodies lurking under the fuzz, it’s just as remarkable that they remain on the periphery of their genre.

For the length of the album, at least, Kings Of Convenience do a standup job of convincing the listener that loud is long forgotten, and in these violent, uncertain times, quiet is king.

This album is, however, a huge amount of irreverent fun, and provided you approach it with that in mind, you'll get plenty of enjoyment out of it, especially when turned up loud at a party.

For anyone wanting to hear a genuine progression from the blueprint laid out by "Play" and to enjoy the calmer, more ethereal and undeniably sadder side of Moby's music, Wait For Me is worthy of further investigation.

Faust have produced 12 tracks that perfectly encapsulate what they can do so well: to create catchy, bizarre sounds. It’s Popmusik/subversive all over again.

More than any other record Wasser has produced, this one feels like it’s purposefully going for accessibility. This is not at the expense of creativity for the most part.

There are standout moments of beauty in the sound they make--usually when pausing to gaze upon the full sun--but these reveries are the exception rather than the rule, and just as the listener is absorbing them, along comes a guitar to wrench them away.

The album sees Crossan as a distinctive producer once again, after the events of the past few years threatened to leave him faceless.

It may not be an album you’ll come back to again and again, but it shows off a refreshingly different side to Alexis Taylor.

A nice Christmas present for that hardcore Killers fan in your life, but most casual observers will be happy to give this a miss and wait for the third album.

Rihanna's appearance aside, Mylo Xyloto is everything you'd expect from a Coldplay album.

An at times minimal sounding album with steps and layers that build towards something. The music and the art stand apart, but they’re inevitably intertwined.

1990s have not made a bad album, but like the decade itself Kicks never lives up to its promise and contains too many derivative and unmemorable moments.

The past is somehow devoured, processed and regurgitated to form a completely refreshing and new substance; this is heavenly stuff that marks a departure from the modern sound.

By producing a more polished, more accomplished sheen while The Killers have roughed themselves up and forgotten to shave, the two bands have moved towards a middle ground where they're virtually indistinguishable.

Some good moments then, but overall Funeral Party fail to keep the energy levels up.

This is what could be termed a healthy dose of parent-friendly hip hop, though now and again it threatens to spoil its reputation as it comes close to one of those dreadful ‘friend chip' adverts.

There may come a time when Crystal Antlers' potential coalesces into a great album, and will be greeted with true accolades, rather than a better-luck-next-time send off--unfortunately for us all, Two-Way Mirror is still pre-natal.

Despite a few moments of middle-of-the-road excess, The House is a shockingly good album--that is, not actually amazingly good, but just shockingly by Katie Melua.

This is more of a curate’s egg of an album than anything else.

This might be a ride through familiar territory but The Proclaimers specialise in steadfast song writing and this is sure to satisfy their legions of fans.

For now, though, Dark Young Hearts can perhaps best be considered a troubling, worthy yet ultimately unloveable misfire.

Into The Murky Water allows some of the band's earnest demeanour to shine through, but ultimately it lacks the spark of its predecessor and it's difficult to love.

In total, The Still Life is a spry and rewarding sonic balm that doesn’t outstay its welcome.

While it may not be 1995 any more, few listening will care when the nostalgia is this expertly crafted.

There’s nothing as immediate as Ixtapa or Tamacun here, but there’s plenty of well rounded paeans nonetheless, and you’re sure to find something to adore if you’re a fan of guitar music, Latin music or heavy metal.

The album is very cleanly produced, though at times it has an unfortunate tendency to become ignorable rather than interesting, Guidance and La Force De Melodie with LouLou Ghelichkhani being the chief offenders. However, the beat switch-up in the middle of Music To Make You Stagger--which turns it from a chilled dubby number to something approaching drum and bass--is very enjoyable, as are the chilly textures of Water Under The Bridge with frequent collaborator Natalia Clavier.

It’s atmospheric, after a fashion, but it feels overproduced and it’s often physically difficult to listen to.

Owen and Hobbs could have just rewritten their debut note for note, but instead they have chosen to take us on a journey that many of us know all too well. Here's waiting for the next instalment.

It's all surface no feeling.

There are too many tracks on here that seem unfinished in a way, content to noodle around for far too long without making too much of an impression.

Like Oberst, the strength of her songwriting sometimes overshadows the rather interesting things going on in terms of production.

While there could have been an effort to eliminate some of the canned percussive elements and other recording anomalies, Elf Power have crafted a wonderful album, filled with plenty of catchy hooks and interesting musical ideas based on simple progressions.

Unfairly or otherwise, Lights will be consumed by many with the weight of expectation hanging heavy around it. For the most part, the strength of the songwriting should keep the doubters at bay.

This isn’t a concept, or a wild divergence from his earlier work. Rather it’s a bigger push musically and collaboratively with less emphasis on the politics that have dominated his past.

Although the songs on – never really rise above a mild trot, there’s still some musical variety.

For Idlewild fans, especially of the older school, there is more than enough here to warrant a pilgrimage to your local record shop.

It is personal without actually being personal.

Whilst it might not reinvent the wheel, Vessels is a rewarding slice of indie rock with a pleasing amount of dark psycadelic twist.

Sadly, too much of the Easy Eighth Album sounds a bit hollow and empty, the sound of a band wanting to move on, but without the energy to properly capture the old glory days.

Josh T Pearson’s latest experiments have made for his most uneven record yet, but among the less characterful songs, there’s still some of that old miserable magic to relish within the directness of it all. The Straight Hits! may not be his finest, but maybe the purge was a necessary one.

Let's hope they carry on with that form of expression, as Replica Sun Machine has created an early blast of summer sunshine--playful, majestic, reflective and content, all in the same record.

With much to enjoy on this collection that has preceded their goodbye it would be music's loss if this were to once again genuinely signal the end of this quirky, characterful band.

Aside from its undertone of paranoid desperation, however, the album is a largely by-the-numbers exercise and seems almost certain to quickly fall off the public consciousness.

If you're a fan of Burnett's sound or just plain curious you'll find this a welcome project that does exactly what it sets out to do.

It’s probably their most ambitious effort since Brain Thrust Mastery, delivering a sprawling and colourful collection of pop songs which are sure to leave a smile on your face.

A pretty decent record if by no means a great one. Shiny And So Bright, Vol 1 / LP: No Past. No Future. No Sun. neither offers the chance to dent Corgan’s ego or inflate it in any significant way.

This is a quiet, dignified record which, while maybe not being the most exciting album you'll hear all year, would make a cracking Christmas present for the more mature relative in your life.

There's no personality here, nothing to cling on to and love.

There’s no doubting Middleton’s way with a skewed tune and a wry look at the world, but Summer Of ’13 is buried beneath the sheen of production that sits uneasily on his shoulders.

Cosmic Egg is the kind of album you'd quite happily pop on for the first part of a road trip while you're full of enthusiasm, but it'd quickly get changed at the first toilet stop.

This is a remarkable album in every sense.

With not a dot ball or an overthrow, The Duckworth Lewis Method is an unqualified success.