The suave Londoner’s debut is a deeply ridiculous affair, but something about his Cave-meets-Cohen shtick endears.

Sledgehammer riff-filled rock doesn't need to be clever, but it sure as heck needs to sound like it's driven by full-pelt, carnage-causing energy. And that's where Band Of Skulls' second effort falls short.

Occasionally there are garish synths nauseating enough to induce a hangover on their own, and it's only then that WHB remind you why nu-rave is a genre best forgotten.

[An] intense, skeletal, and actually-rather-dreary debut.

while the likes of Animal Collective and Yeasayer can sound like they’re from other times, places and planets, Delorean sound more like they’re making music for a lacklustre university recruitment video.

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

At times it can be a bit round-the-campfire twee, but when they’re doing something as cut-yourself-sharp as ‘Wall Paper’, it’s easy to forgive Concrete Knives for the odd moment of artistic bluntness.

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

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.

[The album] is a natural progression from the first, as the band’s distinctively jangly, incessantly upbeat guitars are remodelled in increasingly eccentric ways.

¡Uno! is Green Day's least ambitious record in years and a return to what they do best: short, sharp, scatterbrain pop-punk.

Its Yeasayer-aping can seem too familiar at times, but on the whole Young Magic's debut is a beguiling brain-burp of a listen.

A riot of dumbness, 'Hot Cakes' is predictably brash and Queen-like.

When it works – as on the heartbreaking 'Together' and a barrelling 'The Magic Position' – it highlights his gifts as a songwriter, but on the dreary 'Bitten' and a seemingly endless 'Vulture' it makes you long for something simpler to mark his brilliance.

Unfortunately, the result is usually a bit syrupy and mawkish.

Though Shangri La is at least entertaining, it’s without that lasting, killer incision that will guarantee longevity.

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

Packed with shimmering riffs, synths and loops which sees the Californian mastermind diversify his much-tipped take on 'alternative 80s'.

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.

It veers wildly between the divine and the comedic, but this is positively imperious preposterousness.

Lynch showcases a grim neighbourhood that seems electrically oppressed somehow, synthesised echoes murmuring like residual radiation.

There's value in finding their [remixers] take on Nick Cave's already unique sound.

The five songs here are awkward bedfellows.

Generally Moonfire is an album big on melody, heart and hooks.

Mostly, these are exquisitely constructed slow jams--especially recent single ‘Cookies’, The-Dream-esque ‘Crazy Sex’ and the cashmere-soft, Kelly Rowland duet ‘All The Way’--but the pace becomes stagnant after a while.

Although she retains the cool cleverness of an indie icon, this New Yorker's detached demeanour eventually ends up sounding, ahem, trullie dull.

It's the inconsistency of Future This--particularly the band's newfound tenderness vs. Their miscalculated explosions of noise--that make it a largely baffling listen.

Against all odds, 'Some Nights' is a hoot: huge-sounding, packed with tunes and not lacking in humour.