Although Lay It Down is initially appealing because it has the super­ficial sound of Green’s classic Hi material, you soon discover that Green has nothing terribly deep to offer lyrically, and his vocals are locked on cruise control throughout.

The lyrics can get melodramatic (Verlaine Shot Rimbaud) and vulgar (Head), but there are gems here, too.

The brief tunes are sparse yet cinematic, tentative yet boldly inventive.

Like the elder statesmen, the teenage California quartet offer skewed good-time indie pop that won't change your life but will sound fantastic blasted from a front porch on a summer day.

Despite a couple of interstitial tracks just past the halfway mark, RR7349 is more like a suite of discrete moods than a cycle of songs.

Public Strain is front-loaded with some of the more patience-testing tunes, but stick with it to discover some astonishing beauties.

Instead of knocking out another wall-shaking psych rock blast... Avatar comes off like a series of sedate recital pieces performed from sheet music while seated in the round.

Another artist might show signs of disappointment or uncertainty when faced with the notion that not much has changed in half a century, but on Medicine Songs, in the face of the unchanging nature of the oppression she’s expressed through her music, Buffy Sainte-Marie has chosen to be just as determined, unflinching and constant in her own art.

Too much of the record lacks that song's percussive drive; all the pretty singing and unhurried tempos start to blend into a tepid listen, and the experimental near-spoken-word turn on Strange is just, well, strange.

Blake's songs are built around a single typically melancholic lyric and melody that he works over, kind of like an R&B singer, while gradually switching stylistic gears.

The problem is that all this stuff sounds terribly dated already.

The dynamics seem tired: boom leads to bliss and back to boom again. It's more of the same harsh, ambient wallpaper (peeling) stuff.

Even though the songwriting's tight, the uniformly delicate touch of adult contemporary arrangements will leave you struggling to stay awake till the album's end.

The best moments are some of the strongest of Gibb’s career, but too much of the material lacks the hooks and pure pop sensibility to make this the truly great album we were hoping for.

His latest, Love in Beats, is his most seamless collision yet. That harmony is thanks to the unified vision that comes with having two producers on the project: Omar and his brother Scratch Professor.

The latter half of WIXIW has enough to offset their plodding attempts to be experimental.

With summer so far away, this record’s only downside is that it lacks a hit song to help it last until July.

The quartet is at its best when hushed, autumnal and kaleidoscopic. Still, you can’t blame them for trying to push the envelope.

It's a disappointing underachievement.

Los Campesinos! are hyper-literate college kids out to make big statements from microcosmic situations, but the metaphors in the overly abstract lyrics often get away from Gareth and co-vocalist Aleks.

Where the album falters is in his overly ambitious and affected vocals, which fall on the waifish end of 80s new wave.

It didn't take long to turn the novel clank and grind of Kinshasa junkyard techno assault unit Konono No. 1 into an easy-to-use formula with enormous money-making potential.

An hour long, Reverie's an unusual mix of gentle, drifting and jarring.

All their hallmarks (choral crescendos, swooping melodies and stately horns) and a few curveballs (The xx-esque 4/4 beat on Yfirbor∂) are present, but the songs reach their emotional climax quickly.

Most of what Barnes throws together here doesn't get beyond annoying pastiche, and he still lacks the chops as a wordsmith to magically transform mediocre jams into memorable songs.

Ultimately rewarding for indie enthusiasts up for a challenge, Offend might leave more pedestrian listeners scratching their heads.

Most of Icky Thump's songs sound half-assed, with keyboard parts thrown in ad hoc, but at least they had the good sense to trim the piano bar balladry.

While the bouncy good-time foolery is charming enough in small doses, Islands' relentlessly giddy glee gets annoying awfully fast.