All designs are firmly fixed on a glorious technicolour gem, but it's fair to say results are mixed.

Whilst Hegarty's extended speech in 'Future Feminism' fails to grasp wholly, (but will probably fill a void in your pseudo-intellectual appetite), the collection as a whole is an impressively captivating soundscape.

Ultimately, Endless Flowers is a poppier, prettier record than Crocodiles have managed before.

More often than not Stasia Irons and Cat Harris-White get bogged down in a psychedelic maze, struggling to get their intelligent and issue-led rhymes heard above distracting production.

It's enough to hold the interest, although we'd prefer Alabama Shakes to capitalise on their more esoteric elements and cut out the cliches.

Occasional cringe-inducing lyrics aside, 'Dry Land Is Not A Myth' gets everything bang on.

The moments of clarity indicate a record that yearns for change.

The Jezabels are so nearly there on 'Prisoner'– they just to focus.

Magna Carta Holy Grail is a solid example of a decent modern rap album and nothing more.

This is a missed opportunity, but it's commendable that when both parties are not at their strongest the results can still satisfy.

Though Brightest Darkest Day isn’t a world-changer, you have to admire this pair’s indisputable dynamism.

The album captures little of the Opera's live spirit.

As ever, his lyrics sound better the less you think about them, but you know The Killers are getting it right because most of the time, you don't need to.

An album of controlled explosions that reclaims rock for the oldies and gives the kids something to mosh to.

O'Brien's voice is beautiful and his songwriting often adventurous, but there are times when the aim isn't as true as it could be.

The raspy sonics can’t mask some of their most shrug-worthy songs to date.

Occasionally it's beautiful--the acoustic breakdown in 'Thoughts' is unexpectedly sublime--and often beguiling.

A quantum leap it ain't--and Glass could do with putting her fangs back in--but (III) has just enough up its sleeve to keep Crystal Castles on track.

It's audaciously hit and miss, inevitably, but 'Out Of The Game' is anything but shy and retiring.

The enjoyably fluffy, pacy tunes here match Best Coast’s debut, but the content makes you want to scream ‘Get a f***ing life and chill out!’ at the speakers.

'Never' walks a fine line between experimental and exasperating.

A witches' broth of soothing vocals, swooshing 90s synths and computer drum beats.

Throughout, Niblett’s lonesome, PJ Harvey-like voice and grunge-bitten guitar are central, while disorientating snare cracks serve to underline her forlorn tales of domestic crises.

'Port Of Morrow' is a glorious and confident return, even if it lacks a little darkness at times.

Too often inaudible, the band’s uncathartic noise can still test patience as well as nerves.

A who's who of re-mixers have been cast for the job, and there's value in finding their take on Nick Cave's already unique sound.

Anger, bitterness and scorn spike the discomfiting atmosphere at every turn.

So, all in all: not a bad album, but most of the time it’s more harmless midge than lethal mosquito.