With only three 'songs' to speak of here, 'All Watched Over...' smacks of another great British songwriter having their melodic nous chewed away by electro-moths. [7 Aug 2004, p.49]

They peddle the same sort of fake-rustic rootsiness that seems to be colonising our era: all these flatpack off-the-peg dreams of Ruritania that iPad-stashing mid-lifes have taken up as a counterpoint to their rabid technophilia.

Even at best, though, something rings false about Better Than Heavy. It never sounds like a self-funded album made by angry people.

It’s only on the closing ‘Money Money’ that he sounds like any sort of rebel at all, upping the pace dramatically for a chunk of smoke-spewing Motörhead ‘battle rock’, railing against the seditious lure of materialism.

Completely lacking in imagination. [1 Oct 2005, p.47]

It’s all so methodically planned that even standout radio-wave surfer ‘Take Back The City’ and producer Jacknife Lee struggle to stamp fresh life into this mega-selling formula.

Athlete's lyrical content is shockingly mundane.

The lyrics, too, reek of a lack of inspiration.

Their preoccupation with '70s British metal finds them wandering dangerously into gobilin-and-ghouls prog-rock territory. [5 Jun 2004, p.54]

An album that not only fudges golden opportunities, but finds this band's whole modus operandi laid embarrassingly bare. [15 Jan 2005, p.42]

With their crashing guitar riffs and vague, faux-poetic proclamations, Lost Under Heaven sound more like Imagine Dragons with a Goldsmiths degree.

'The Sound of Silence', the Simon & Garfunkel cover, is easily the best song on the record, despite Draiman singing his parts like he’s The Count from Sesame Street.

The man who made the 's 'Dare'--can't add enough bells and whistles to stop the tunes from sounding like they've been faxed over from one of Stock & Aitken's duller days at the office.

Labrinth may work wonders in the background, but he's far too anonymous on Electronic Earth to mark his card as much of a solo star.

Sure, it’s worth making the effort if you’re already a Segall Stan or a White Fence mega fan, but beyond that? There’s little here to latch onto that’ll make your stay worthwhile.

Too gloopily uniform. [16 Jul 2005, p.50]

Unfortunately, as a musical portrayal of the long-lasting echoes of WWI, its ideas are far more interesting than their execution.

However much he hollers, Dave McCabe can’t escape sounding bored, and his often-schoolboy lyrics have begun to actively jar.

A hundred miles off, and they might as well be a thousand. [16 Sep 2006, p.37]

Over-produced and under-inspired. [26 Mar 2005, p.51]

The Mountain Will Fall sounds, at best, like a decent mixtape made by someone with pretty good taste. Thing is, you can probably make one of those yourself.

In their relentless slavery to the groove, the songs fall hopelessly flat. [12 Feb 2005, p.51]

It sounds like Aerosmith, with plenty of hard-rocking blues swagger and lighters-aloft balladry, but most of the tunes are rubbish.

A saddening case of brick production, paper soul--here the Quins are little more than twin airbags.

Sadly, the Norwegians promptly undo much of their good work by interspersing the bombastic rocking with acoustic cobblers like ‘Lovescared’ and the sort of excessive, pompous emoting that even Pearl Jam tend to avoid these days.

When he emerged from his stupor, he announced that he was giving up rap to make a guitar album. Which brings us to ‘Rebirth’, a shlock-rock record so absurd it makes Alien Ant Farm seem like a legitimate musical venture.

And it sounds... bloated and uncomfortable. Time for another re-think.

Ultimately, Glow will live or die on the strength of its singles. On this evidence, Tensnake seems to be missing that key part of his blueprint.