Bread And Circuses isn't bad enough to be s death knell, but neither is it good enough to be their commercial rebirth.

Though there is plenty of positive change across ‘Surviving’, it’s clear that their strengths still lie as a fists-in-the-air rock band; the monumental ‘One Mil’ shows this best.f hope and rebirth in their own way, digging as deep as Adkins himself is.

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.

They tag-team across the record with a cheery glint, a self-deprecating wink and a boundless charm that's hard not to like.

There are sparks of brilliance on ‘Love, Death & Dancing’; Garratt’s multifaceted talent is undeniable and his honesty is admirable. But, please, less is more next time.

Overall there is a sense that this is the sound of a band brushing their hair and fixing their make-up, trying to convince the world they're OK while secretly crumbling on the inside.

‘Love For Sale’ is best when Bennett and Gaga playfully trade lines and sing in unison, with the veteran singer countering his collaborator’s belting vocal with artful restraint.

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.

This is some of the most focused, ferocious rapping that Lil Wayne has achieved in ages. Yet this still doesn’t necessarily result in a great album.

All boxes ticked for hip retromaniacs, but certainly not “the next millennium”.

They've already featured on a multitude of soundtracks including Stealing Beauty, Shades and I Know What You Did Last Summer. Not to mention cinema ads for champagne and episodes of La Femme Nikita and er, Baywatch. That's pretty much all bases covered, then.

It's a terrible pity: when she stops politicising like a councillor on a complementary therapy summer camp, there's music here that's full of the febrile commitment and unashamed passion that marked her out as a valid icon in 1975.

it paints crudely and schematically a portrait of the artist as messed-up, disillusioned, self-indulgent twerp with an unhealthy appreciation of the mid-'80s US guitar underground, whose demo-quality doodlings (Graham plays, sings, produces and paints everything. And all to a rather average standard) should probably have never seen the light of day.

A good album, in a well-produced way, but it's not as good or as important as it thinks it is. [24 Jun 2006, p.43]

This formulaic approach lacks surprise – once you’re a few tracks in, you’ve heard it all. It might not be a total hot Gizz summer, but at least we’ve got a few extra bangers to bask in.

Thought Forms' side peaks with the driving Sonic Youth riffs of ‘Sound Of Violence’ and the dizzying My Bloody Valentine lurch of ‘For The Moving Stars’.... Having left their label, [Esben And The Witch] are using crowdfunding to record their next album with Steve Albini, for which these raw tracks offer great.

Head First, enjoyable though much of it is, is disappointingly determined to return the favour.

There are a few moments of elegant sensuality--like the tumbling, androgynous voices of 'He She'--but by and large it's like one of Jeff Koons' uber-kitsch sculptures: gleaming, opulent, but kinda hard to love.

Taylor's attraction lies in her ability to switch herself effortlessly between vastly different styles.

After singing about so much Americana for the past decade, it seems that he’s now had to cross the Atlantic in search of fresh geography to mine.

Inevitably, the record descends into a series of multi-band cover-offs, the listener acting as Caesar, deciding which ‘winning’ version should really have made the cut. Half the time you feel like you’re doing the compiler’s job for them.

True Meanings tends to blend into a lilting mush over the course of 14 tracks that rarely stray from the beige end of the sonic palette.

They wisely avoid toying with any Darkness-style irony, but the Keys' insistence on authenticity does leave the album a little flat and humourless. [2 Sep 2006, p.21]

This isn’t a bad or a lazy album, and Elbow are too good a band to ever be dismissed, yet one can’t help but feel they could push their envelope a bit further.

The result is an eccentric grab-bag of styles and influences, with enough harps on it to keep Joanna Newsom fans happy, and even a retro 4/4 beat dancing in on the aptly named ‘Disco Compilation’.

With a swelling back catalogue, it’s becoming increasingly clear what does and doesn’t work for Yachty’s solo output: skippable braggadocious freestyles? No. Endearing and experimental takes on hip-hop that demonstrate his more individualistic approach to being a major rap artist? Yes please.

‘Mutator’ might well find favour with fans of his distant descendants like Squid, Perfume Genius, Sleaford Mods and Black Midi. A quarter of a century on, this lost rumble from post-punk vaults finds new context, as a lesson in uncompromising art from an old master.

Sanchez’s gorgeous vocal is what truly stands out.