Ultimately this record lacks the genuinely interesting shifts that have punctuated Swift’s career so far, from the lyrical excellence on her superior breakup album ‘Red’ to ‘1989’’s pivot to high-octane pop.

‘I’m Doing It Again Baby!’ is a fine album; it’s fun and sweet, if a little bland. It’s a pristine pop record that takes few risks and leaves little room for error – though it might be more interesting if it did.

Gray’s newfound penchant for ’80s pop doesn’t come with a notion of irony – he’s fully embracing even the era’s most ostentatious elements. But despite his own sincerity, there are moments that drift closer towards a caricature of the era than a true homage to the decade’s most innovative pop.

This is a pretty good Black Keys record that chiefly serves to underline how wedded they are to the fundamentals of their own process.

Viewed in isolation, ‘Heaven’ is a pretty sublime pop-punk record. Its little brother, ‘Hell’, yields more mixed results, continuing the metal-infused sound Sum 41 have veered towards in recent years.

Musgraves’ assertiveness feels like a real glimmer of light amid the sparse compositions that run through this thoughtful, imperfect, down-to-earth record.

Clocking in at a slither under 77 minutes, ‘Everything I Thought It Was’ is a slog enlivened by some surprising moments.

‘Vultures 1’ might not be the total dud that could put Kanye’s career six feet under, but it is far from one of his best efforts either. It’s more cohesive than ‘Donda’ – although that’s not hard, given it’s about half its length – and includes some well-curated guest spots from Travis Scott, Playboi Carti and India Love.

Some other stylistic choices prevent ‘New Last Name’ from being the disruptive moment it clearly wants to be – ‘Flex’ and its nod to ‘Mr Brightside’ (“now she’s calling a cab”), doesn’t quite land – but the album’s overall vibrancy doesn’t dim on repeated listens.

There’s no question that Herring still writes songs capable of evoking strong emotions, but this time around they can occasionally feel too twinkly and repetitive. What’s missing is some risk-taking; unpredictable production flourishes that could better reflect the overall mood of the album and all the ambiguities that accompany a major life change.

Though the romantic elements of ‘Discount De Kooning (Last Man Standing)’ are nice enough, it fails to penetrate in any meaningful way. As the record meanders on, tracks such as ‘The Dreamer’ and ‘Anonymous In Los Feliz’ fail to leave a lasting impression. That’s not to say it doesn’t work. It might not offer anything new, but it doesn’t necessarily need to.

It’s not until ‘Kids Are Growing Up’ the album’s 20th and final track, that Howard attempts to reflect on anything but heartbreak and fame. .... It feels like an emotional breakthrough for Howard, but it comes just a little too late.

The collection is more of a mood piece than of noticeable, memorable songs.

‘Quarter Life Crisis’ moves between moods that translate to bright, Day Glo colours (‘Kid Genius’) or dark goth accents (‘Die Alone’). But the former can often turn grating.

The issue is, however, that it’s perhaps lacking in variety. Although the rocket-fueled, lightning-paced ‘More Than You Know’ and the gently atmospheric closer ‘Childhood’ do offer changes in pace, there’s only really subtle things differentiating many of these songs from each other. Sometimes, the hooks aren’t as strong as they could be.

While ‘The Darker The Shadow’ is ambitious, packed with witty, insightful commentary on the human experience, its conceptual focus allowing plenty of scope for creative flourishes, it ultimately lacks the incisive punch of his earlier songwriting.

The club bangers lack the oomph of his past singles and the lead-out tracks, ‘Fan’ and ‘Worth It’ are criminally limp. .... Eventually, the vulnerability shines through.

For All The Dogs- his third solo LP in as many years – not only feels tiring, but sounds tired too.

The album, frustratingly, proceeds on a perplexingly flat note. Clocking in at 14 songs, one wonders if the ferocity of ‘Grooming My Replacement’ could have completed a memorable ten-track collection, with the final few tracks lacking that consistent cutting edge.

The nuance and specificity of his last album’s songwriting is largely absent; instead ‘Autumn Variations’ is akin to aimlessly swiping through Instagram, blurry snaps of followers’ leafy happenings whizzing past in a distracted daze.

‘Sorry I’m Late’ is a lot more fun when it stops trying so hard to prove itself.

Sanchez’s gorgeous vocal is what truly stands out.

It all adds up to an overlong, slightly repetitive but ultimately compelling album of two halves.

There’s one too many generic, string-laden ballads, and a stop-start feel to the record, a frustration given how enlivening its highs are. But if anything, it feels like a record Beer has been desperate to make since the very beginning: she’s come a long way in her time in the spotlight, but now we’re finally getting to know her true sound.

‘Volcano’ certainly isn’t overstuffed with ideas. Often, the uniformity in this approach – muddy vocal line that could be a chopped-up classic, and a minimal but effective bassline – mean that several of the songs meld together, struggling to stand out. .... But when they get it right, it’s hard to deny how hard it hits.

Where he’s inventive and precise in directing his energy, he’s able to make real uplifting and imaginative indie bops. It’s a shame this album’s not full of them. The potential is there, but he’s not quite hit it.

By going back to the sound of his early work, Scott steps back into the gargantuan shadow of his mentor. Kanye West – particularly the mechanical abrasiveness and fragmented textures of 2014’s ‘Yeezus’ – is not just an inspiration but an apparition that looms over Scott’s identity on this album.

There’s a certain power to ‘Euphoric’, but it certainly could have been a much more potent album. It’s a shame, and a missed opportunity: we don’t learn much about Georgia’s new worldview on a record that is, supposedly, dedicated to moving on from the past.

‘Sunburn’ still acts as a love letter to the place he was raised in, however, allowing Fike to return home not only to the relentless humid state but to himself.

Despite its underwhelming second half, ‘Barbie’ is packed with a surprising diversity of sounds paying homage to the Mattel muse. The soundtrack has some wonderful highs and some miserable lows – but then again, it’s not all rosy in Barbie Land…

There is a sense that Lifeguard will only kick on from here, finding greater balance between the competing elements in their music while also growing in confidence when it comes to taking creative leaps.

It remains to be seen whether Do Nothing can use the solid foundations of ‘Snake Sideways’ as a launching pad to ascend to the giddy heights of their initial promise.

Presented as a 96-minute opera, his fourth studio album is a haughty gesture weighed down by its own folly, scanning instead as pathos.

It’s another tension that helps to define ‘Girl With Fish’ — a sense that nothing holds so much weight that it can’t be taken elsewhere in the next moment. While that idea perhaps keeps these songs from being as memorable as they could be, it does occasionally work, shaping the album into a really nice cut of slacker-noise.

A ‘difficult second’ album this is not, but the big set-pieces are left wanting. .... Regardless, there’s ample to consider, decode and treasure from an artist who consistently makes poring over the lyric sheet line-by-line as much fun as the finished product.

Sonic risks are taken, but they don’t always pay off.

A record that occasionally shows steady growth, but this potential remains largely untapped.

This surprise album – despite its frequent beauty – works best as a puzzle piece rather than a standout record in its own right.

For the most part, ‘-‘ feels like a warm but cautious hug from a sensitive friend – Dessner gives Sheeran space to say what’s on his mind without trying to crowd him. ... But most of ‘-’ is doggedly one-paced, an often drawback of Dessner’s mellow production stylings.

Eloise’s attempts to gently push her sound outwards are admirable and promising. There’s a disquieting hint of sourness to the distorted layers on ‘Take It Back’, while ‘Vanilla Tobacco’ is peppered with moments of record scratching. They may be far from revolutionary, but the fullness of Eloise’s new vision vibrates in these tender details.

At times, ‘In Pieces’ still stands as a fragmented version of the songwriter and producer’s talents.

There is disappointment that a number of U2’s big-hitters don’t translate well on ‘Stories For Surrender’, but this revision hasn’t been a totally fruitless endeavour: you just have to dig a little bit deeper to find the reimagined material that’s truly worth savouring.

Though the album gets a little messier and more unfocused from this point, ‘Oceans Niagara’ points to a beautifully bright future for the M83 project.

Covering so much ground (‘Hydrate’ even bridges dubstep and reggae) means the album lacks a clear narrative or overarching theme.

It would be unfair to call the album a time capsule of present times, however chaotic those are, as it feels like the uneven collection might morph into something else when revisiting it next week.

[The lyrics] can also be so formulaic that you’ll almost wonder whether you’re listening to M3GAN. ... But at the same time, it’s hard to shake the suspicion that Max has fully understood the assignment. ‘Diamonds & Dancefloors’ lives up to its escapist title with a non-stop onslaught of sharp and shiny pop hooks.

Better known for one-off dancehall hits and dubplates, Popcaan isn’t necessarily expected to make a cohesive feature-length record, particularly not across 17 cumbersome tracks. But on ‘Great Is He’ he proves that the exuberant dancehall sound he’s known for can be tinkered with and remoulded, along with some undiscovered vulnerability.

Unsurprisingly, it’s overcooked in places. In addition to super-producer Max Martin (Taylor Swift, Katy Perry), an array of producers come and go on the 17-track record that nearly stretches to a full hour. ... But little could possibly dampen the record’s spirit and spunk.

The inner battles of ‘Permanent Damage’ are unflinching, and will likely stay with you long after the songs finish. It’s slightly deflating, then, that its instrumental flourishes often fade into the background, making for an album that takes risks without ever quite putting itself out there.

While there are moments of brilliance, it’s clear there are too many chefs in the kitchen.

Though these are often beautiful and uneasy songs, too many of them feel rudderless.

It’s yet more evidence that Drake’s art is suffering under the strain of his obsession with churning out as much music as is physically possible. And while 21 doesn’t have the same problem, both halves of the duo are responsible for an album that had the potential to be a classic, and missed.

If the trimmings were removed from ‘It’s Only Me’, it might rival his previous releases – instead it’s a few notches shy of greatness

This album is an almighty slog, one where the vibrant new is weighed down with a lot of the same old tricks. For all glimpses of bold musical and lyrical steps forward, they remain largely the same band they’ve always been with ‘Return Of The Dream Canteen’ offering an all-you-can-eat buffet that often feels overwhelming.

‘FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE’ is never quite an album that is completely comforting or despairing. Instead, it explores the vast reaches between the two and uses introspection as a means of finding stability in the chaos.

FLOHIO’s willingness to embrace a number of genres and sounds in her music — from 2000s grime to house music — can only be a positive thing, and ‘Out Of Heart’, a body of work that does show promise, serves up a refreshing take on modern-day rap. There’s still room for improvement, though.

For the most part, however, while never less than beautifully realised, there’s a sense that the record has more dramatic and intense potential that’s left frustratingly untapped.

Sparks and fireworks go off all over ‘Typical Music’ too and, bar a few inevitable misfires, there’s plenty to gasp at.

‘EBM’, then, goes some way to bringing the seasoned band back to what they do best, all the while pushing things forward.

On ‘Born Pink’, BLACKPINK tread familiar thematic territory for pop music, but the imagery – finding solace from heartbreak at the bottom of a bottle (‘The Happiest Girl’), boasting about being the type of girl you take to your “mama house” (‘Typa Girl’) – isn’t particularly novel, though they have effectively applied a personal touch in the past (see Jennie’s ‘Solo’).

If Two Door are to hold onto anything from ‘Keep On Smiling’, it should be the playful, curious moments that convey a sense of fun, even if that’s deceptive. When things get serious on this record, the band stumble and the smiles begin to slip.

Where it works best is that clear marriage of anger and aspiration, interwoven with Furman’s melodic drawl, musical tenderness and reverb. In parts, though, ‘All of Us Flames’ is an example that sometimes less is more.

If ‘Holy Fvck’ is a funeral for Lovato’s pop music, it also marks a new beginning, with an artist reborn. As the musician explores this ferocious sonic world and celebrating her musical roots, it’s the start of a bold new era.

When she steers away from pastiche and fully delves into cataloguing the mundanity, pomposity and sheer ridiculousness of grotty Little England, she’s at her best as a songwriter.

‘Freakout/Release’ certainly isn’t a complete misfire. Its loose premise of retooling negative feelings to a positive end is sometimes realised, though it was always going to be difficult to evoke the sparkly catharsis of its dizzying predecessor.

While it’s heartwarming to see Lauv’s newfound openness, the album is – ironically, given his most persistent theme – missing a little something.

Despite its strong start, the sagging back end of ‘Las Ruinas’ unfortunately means that this mixtape isn’t likely to stick in the memory for long – here’s hoping Rico comes back stronger next time.

‘Hold On Baby’’s brightest moments may be more than enough to keep the die-hard KP fans hooked, but this feels like a missed chance to offer up something truly surprising.

While her commitment to reviving the golden age of hip-hop by harking back to the likes of Lil’ Kim and Foxy Brown is admirable, it looks like we’ll have to wait for Milli’s next release for that consistent collection of sure-fire hits we know she’s capable of delivering.

It’s commendable that aespa are not resting on their laurels or churning out sound-a-likes of what’s worked before, but this project doesn’t showcase the spark that made them special in the first place.

‘Love, Damini’ had the potential to be the biggest record of Burna’s to date, full of heart and rhythmic passion. But it falls frustratingly short: too often the tunes are repetitive and, other than the aforementioned highlights, don’t show much progression.

‘Honestly, Nevermind’ is an unexpected elevation from the bland trap, R&B remakes and Drake’s melancholic attitude to love we heard last time around. He doesn’t quite shift the latter as much as one would hope – the album is as tiresomely woe-is-me as anything he’s ever done – but the house sound has at least given him the creative boost that his recording career has been crying out for recently.

[‘Gold Rush Kid’ is] a fun and curious ditty, yet the songwriting frustratingly positions Ezra as someone who got lucky, rather than an ambitious auteur ready to set his own fate after years of hardship. Elsewhere, though, this theme comes secondary to descriptions of a crisis induced by losing control, with bright, almost homespun production tasked with keeping our narrator grounded.

Across 31 minutes and just seven songs, Poliça are impeccably focused on ‘Madness’, packaging up their first decade as a band into a neatly formed, bite-sized package.

The blues kings show no signs of turning off their well-beaten path here, but they’re still capable of conjuring enough magic on the journey.

The record doesn’t feature a bunch of seminal tracks, instead packing filler between his knockout singles such as ‘First Class’. You’ll find a gem or two here and there, but this collection’s longevity is questionable.

It may lack the immediacy of 2018’s hookier ‘Remind Me Tomorrow’, but this unyielding record is, at times, a powerful reckoning with the age of uncertainty.

Beyond the familiar name drops and signposts, there are flashes of a band in control of their destiny, and willing to try something new.

It can feel – despite the vivacity and thrilling, shack-shaking garage rock beast that this whole album is – that Romero are stuck in a single gear. There’s a sameness to the songs that won’t trouble any listeners who only want to throw their heads around, pogo bounce and get deafened by riffs.

What White has done with ‘Fear Of The Dawn’, in fact, is row his experimental tendencies back a little, as if to meet the desires of his audience halfway. Unfortunately, that can make large chunks of the ensuing record a confused and purposeless mess.

The freewheeling spirit does occasionally give way to a less exciting middle ground: ‘Eight Minute Machines’ comes as a blast of scuzzy guitar-driven punk we’ve heard a lot of in recent years, where the six-minute closer ‘Greasin’ Up Jesus’ is built around a drum machine doesn’t go anywhere in particular. For the most part, though, this is clearly the sound of a band ready to party once more, making for another carnival of different sounds and offbeat ideas.

‘Zombie’ has all the swagger and pep of his previous collaborator The Weeknd, while the tempered nature of ‘Cameo’ and ‘Renegade’ allow traditional pop songwriting to coexist with bolshy, bone-crunching settings. These fleeting moments are by far ‘Reborn’s most satisfying, and offer proof that there’s plenty more creative road for Kavinsky to bomb it down in years to come.

Propelled by a glossy indie sound hell-bent on dragging the band up festival bills, opener ‘Hometown’ expresses this best. ... The problem is, such weighty ambition is left off this album, which too often finds them content on taking the easy road.

Even if ‘Painless’ occasionally settles into a consistent, thudding groove at times, when Yanya goes full pelt, she’s at her very best.

It all adds up to a thoroughly enjoyable listen that confirms what fans already know: even a middle-of-the-road Dolly Parton album has lashings of charm.

A majority of the songs on ‘Love Sux’ clock in at under three minutes, giving the record a fiery sense of purpose. From the fraught emotion behind the vulnerable, delicate ballad ‘Dare To Love Me’ to the snarling guitars of ‘Déjà Vu’, every moment on the album is deliberately melodramatic.

Yes, the record can sit a little awkwardly between being nostalgic and current – given her enlisting on next-gen stars for a hip-hop soul collection – but the take-the-power-back narrative really makes these songs shine.

A decidedly strange record with flashes of beauty and brilliance, then. How utterly Yoko.

Dismiss this as uninspired “dad rock”, or embrace it as a dad making the music he’d want to hear.

Stand-out moments grab you with their humour – the immensely memorable hooks on show certainly help, too – but after ‘Motordrome’’s fizzled out, you’re left wishing the engines revved a little louder.

Rather than a fresh blast of wizardry, ‘Extreme Witchcraft’ is more of a feet-finder for our times.

When Kane rises above that tentativeness, as with the rousing and charismatic title track, the effect is engaging. But for the most part, this solid but unchallenging album is a step towards nowhere in particular.

The record sags in the middle when the pace dies down (on ‘Haunt’ and ‘It’s Getting Dark’), but ‘Transparency’ never overstays its welcome. It may not produce the “massive hit” McTrusty once pined for, but it’s a sign there’s life in the old dog yet.

The tracks that work on this album would fit perfectly on a spooky science fiction soundtrack, but the remaining songs really drag the collection down.

There’s nothing complex about what Rick Ross does. ... Ross consistently portrays the ‘old Rozay’, garnering successful results more times than not. Sometimes simplicity is key: if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

Though nothing is as memorable as Keys classics like ‘If I Ain’t Got You’ and ‘Fallin”, her melodies are undeniably lovely. ... ‘Unlocked’ isn’t strong enough to turn this into a top-tier Alicia Keys album, but it does make it a project worth investigating. With some judicious pruning and sharp sequencing, any Keys fan should be able to carve out a pretty satisfying playlist.

‘Algorithm’ will probably appeal more to the older hip-hop cynics, though anyone who grew up in a house where their parents played ‘California Love’ or ‘It Was A Good Day’ will also revel in the nostalgia offered by the record.

It’s a tender passing of the torch.