Good but not as good as you might think it is on a song-to-song basis, enjoyable but somewhat less memorable.

Twelve Reasons to Die doesn't quite carry the hefty weight of earlier works, but when those rank among the pinnacle of the genre, it’s not to be expected.

Conveniently, he’s premeditated every song in #willpower with a bevy of wishy-washy, quotable clichés that are meant to fit the space of 140 characters. Sadly, that's as deep as it gets.

The Thermals promised that their next album would be “loud, fast, incredibly scary and undeniably catchy.” The album we received, Desperate Ground, succeeds in most of these characteristics, but only at the bare minimum level.

Maybe it’s a struggle to really get your teeth into Mosquito because of the track listing; the three song dry patch after Mosquito is a huge problem considering the ease these days of being able to find something more interesting to listen to.

The truth is that No Joy is unadulterated, all-surrounding sound.

X’ed Out is unmarred by any narcissistic disposition, or pretentious or elitist demeanor, but it makes no creative sacrifice. Bravo.

Despite many good songs on this album, you will definitely get a sense that Depeche Mode is in a holding pattern.

Birthmarks' charm lies in its comforting familiarity.

The big thrills come so fast it almost feels like a blur, only equaled to the ravished excitement of making a score on a big night. It’ll knock you senseless, possibly bankrupt, until the urge comes back in full force.

There’s just not enough that grabs you by the throat and pulls you back to listen over and over again.

You can’t necessarily call this new music, but it works because it doesn’t sound vintage, nor does it completely owe itself to any bygone era of “remember when?”.

Minor quibbles aside (Set Me Free is a little over-wrought and clichéd), True Romance is a simply stunning record.

This may be no grand revelation, but it has its moments, and overall it’s a thoroughly satisfying sit.

Whilst the majority of Stygian Stride is an abstract pulsing mass, beneath there is a narrative that draws the listener through an intense display without losing purpose.

Cruise Your Illusion doesn't disappoint; what the Washington four-piece have accomplished is as authentic as the influences that ooze from its fuzz, and warmer than an Arabian armpit.

It’s a beautiful, at times tragic album, a versatile hodge-podge of creativity and ambition whose influences are nearly undetectable (this critic hears Bjork and D’Angelo most apparently) and with nary a false note.

If nothing else can be said about The Terror, it at least represents the culmination of all of The Flaming Lips’ oddball experiments and elongated, anti-sonorous jams into a single, abrasively beautiful cacophony.

It sees the Cumbrian exiles embracing their maturity and demonstrating restraint, without scrimping on the songs.

The bottom line here is that this is a boring album, plain and simple.

Presley’s made a competent facsimile of a 60s psychedelic album.

The widening of Banhart’s previously contained and signature sound continues to pay off here, the funky and inviting rubber basslines that are scattered throughout the album particularly memorable.

Wakin’ On A Pretty Daze strikes with a gust of pent up emotions, a trailblazing record that openly affirms a personal accountability for self without slipping into heavy-handedness.

Certainly this record is relevant, and maybe even worth listening to with some regularity. But I can't help but feel that this album is just a watered down Arcade Fire rather than the aural adventure that others seem to hear.

Despite clear flaws though, enthusiastically raving about the album, even when taking into account that a third of it (including those aforementioned ten minutes of Fracking… ) is borderline irritating, feels entirely justified, rather than an exercise in willful perversion, thanks to the quality of everything else on offer.

There’s a lot more diversity in the sound of the album, and it’s there that Wolf immediately shines.

Ultimately, Time’s liquidity, while mesmerising to some, will be a distance myth to others.

It's terrific fun while it lasts, and Moon's knowingly gawky charms just about manage to stave off any lingering Jimmy Ray (remember him?) related doubts, but the general lack of content does offer fairly compromised value for money, and raises questions as to if he'll be able to think of ways to expand his repertoire without ruining the central conceit, or just end up being an oddball one trick pony.