These songs are atmospheric, but feel calculatedly so, especially set against the overwrought poetry of Tonra's lyrics.

It's always pleasant but never quite manages to step beyond that.

Urie undoubtedly knows how to put on an entertaining show, but this is a production that lacks the kind of intelligibility and depth necessary for real emotional engagement.

He can't quite leave his mind-numbing AOR behind.

Some of her older-style material jars--when playing the cabaret siren on Bad News, or the musical theatre dame on overblown jazz ballad If Ever I Recall Your Face--but for the most part, these heavy-lidded protest jams are a sophisticated twist on her continually evolving sound.

His mellifluous style, best exemplified on Boat Cruise and Jamboree, ebbs and flows without ever letting go of the groove. A bit like Jaco Pastorius in a space suit.

They're not without their charms.

Despite a handful of makeweight tracks that might not exist in Ash's brave new digital world, it has the virtues of its format: cohesiveness in mood, diversity in sound.

Every track on Future Brown is expertly constructed and polished, but rather than an exhilarating modern collaboration, it sounds like a curated exhibition.

The album is a mess, but a hook-heavy, likable one.

Much of the album has the subtlety of being trapped inside a panic alarm.

If none of the songs here has the undeniable hit quality of Mr Brightside et al, they certainly work in suitably anthemic style, with catchy, simplistic hooks, air-punch-inducing dynamics and lyrics designed to bond vast crowds together. ... But the feeling that Imploding the Mirage is less than the sum of its parts persists long after it’s left you exhausted.

While there are oddball lyrical themes throughout, it orbits a grownup indie rock world.

Pleasant songwriting propped by great production: you could level the same charge at a lot of stuff in the charts, and, in fairness, material from Codes and Keys wouldn't sound out of place if it cropped up next to Noah and the Whale on the radio.

While Sia deserves stardom, 1,000 Forms of Fear is so sonically flawless and contemporary-sounding that its impact may fade with time.

There may not be a standout track here--a Romeo or a Red Alert--and the desire to show their range (almost every track fuses a different style, from dancehall to trap or tropicalia) dilutes the effect of the whole. In each song, though, there'll be a small detail that hints at the skill of Simon Ratcliffe and Felix Buxton as producers.

Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) dilutes some of the original’s acid. One issue with Swift revisiting her older work is that her voice has changed with age. Now 33, she’s a much richer and more skilled singer than she was then, but their piercing, youthful twang was what made these songs kick harder in all their dressing-downs and rabid desires, emphasising the sense of a girl wading into adult waters.

The feelgood factor comes down a notch on this second album, with Hemming musing wryly on regret and midlife desperation in an attempt to place a deeper sadness at the heart of TLS's lush English pastoral.

it's almost impossible to listen to without making comparisons, and Local Natives are not the beneficiaries of the process.

The real problem, however, is that the Stooges' tracks cast the rest of the album in an unflattering light.

Thomas's lingering look at the past won't get the cool kids onside, but ravers of a certain age will find much to love.

In come motorik krautrock/Velvet Underground rhythms, a brass band, disoriented guitars and an eerie narrative on man's capacity for destruction featuring the words of a murdered French Revolutionary.

Joanne stumbles a bit, and will be received with bafflement by everyone other than hardcore Little Monsters, but you can’t help admiring her boldness.

There's a fair bit of "positivity" gloop, such as Believers (Arab Spring), but not enough to ruin a decent album.

Tense, brooding and often raw, the artist's world-wearied voice is cast off against a dramatic backdrop, the results not unlike a darker take on Elbow's experiment with the Hallé Orchestra.

The brisker numbers rub shoulders with Belle & Sebastian; the janglier ones Teenage Fanclub.

However annoying it sounds, give The Information a chance. By the time Horrible Fanfare rolls around, 15 numbers in, you'll be too dazed to resist.

Perhaps tracks such as Lampenda veer too far in the direction of accessible arena rock, and the final double whammy (War and Peace) featuring poet Lemn Sissay jars slightly, after Maal’s own dulcet tones. But there are compelling fusions.