The tunes offer a smooth enough ride, but The Vaselines aren’t really stretching themselves here.

Shot through with warm hooks, it's a worthy retooling of old synth styles.

Moments when his former wretchedness is recognisable rescue the album.

Not to be outdone by US stoner-rock peers Sleep and Earth, who have records out this year, the Dorset satanists have spat out this eighth album.

Gerard Way has wiped the slate clean and started afresh, with invigorating results.

No Romeo may be sweet, but it doesn't leave a lasting impression.

Worship The Sun continues that approach, sounding more cohesive in the process. Somehow, though, it’s also more sluggish--their ‘60s indebted garage-rock drags where once it excited.

Black Moon Spell is scuzzy, wired and bulging with Marc Bolan vocals, riffs Jimmy Page forgot to stick on any Zeppelin album and a bunch of outrageously catchy choruses. Big fun.

Their first new music in three years, is a cohesive listen.

While we may never fully understand his inspiration, when his work is as colourful and inventive as this, it's a small sacrifice.

It's a collection of enthralling confessionals where stabs of bleakness mean that heavy bleeding dominates.

As intimate, beautiful and witty as ever, there’s an impassioned life in Leonard that's missing from many artists a quarter of his age.

What lies beneath is frequently glorious, especially in the second half, where rolling, Afrobeat-infused rhythms underpin their best work.

Syro is amazing: bug-eyed, banging rave that sounds quintessentially Aphex while not quite sounding like anything he’s done before.

From the frantic 'Smoking Kills' to the joyously frank drinking song 'Bottle To Bottle', there's more than enough evidence to suggest the Brighton trio are the caustic blast of honesty and character the UK punk scene's been lacking recently.

This Is All Yours engulfs you like a deep forest. Alt-J Mk II, then: an impressive expansion, with hugely improved connectivity.

Repeated listens unmask 'Ryan Adams' as a great record, and a sleek departure from 2011's 'Ashes & Fire.'

This Is My Hand should see her join him, her other collaborators and St Vincent in the US experimental pop pantheon.

[Songs Of Innocence] has only a handful of standouts.... This is a serious mis-step that might win a week's worth of good publicity, but could foreshadow a year's worth of bad.

Warm and welcoming, Alphaville sounds a great place to lose yourself.

Rather than evolution, Listen offers questionable overindulgence in funk, soul and chopped beats.

Scruffy melodies informed debut album 'A Thousand Heys' and they return here ('Vapour Trails') but Jack Cooper's homegrown themes are interwoven expertly.

It’s heavenly, in its own troubled way.

It’s less nightclub, more drunken iPod selection, typical of late-period Tricky: brilliant, frustrating and fatally inconsistent.

Her debut LP is good, but not up to the standard its title suggests.

At times throwaway, at others raw, intimate and charming, there’s plenty here you’ll want to get your mate to ask out for you.

His outfit have returned with an album that skirts close to perfection in its 35 minutes of glorious madness and transcendent, George Harrison-like guitar solos.

They have returned hungry and wired to shake us out of our digital comas.