His current tactic of quantity at the price of quality control does mean songs with less impact end up on record.

Its wares pick up where its predecessor left off but without adding too much extra to the mix.

Ultimately, this is the sound of a group looking back at what they’ve achieved individually in order to get that chemistry churning again.

Slick production and a consistency in sound may make for easy listening but if you pay too much attention it all starts to sound a bit contrived and cheesy.

While opener ‘Name For You’ is catchy, and album highlight ‘Rubber Ballz’ is a foot-stomping earworm, Heartworms largely represents a loss of ambition.

Whether down to Erika’s understated vocal, or the shallow pool from which many of the musical textures come, things do elsewhere get a little samey. A shame, as ‘Sensational’ starts so bright.

Perhaps not perfect, but a recovery position from which Two Door Cinema Club look primed to soar once more.

Alexis Taylor’s discovery and consequent understanding of the importance of religion and its expansive scriptures are well captured in this reflective release.

An album which blurs the line between retro and futuristic techno, yet always with an analogue soul.

‘Drop Cherries’ may be a soothing depiction of a relationship’s simple moments, but this simplicity does leave the listener wanting more, and its poignancy often lacks any punch.

It is fair to say that the album is missing hooks; it is a difficult listen and the tracks’ sparseness renders them similar. But, when the sound is so spine-tinglingly moving, that’s not too much of a problem.

It may be easy to enjoy at the time, but this third full-length leaves no lasting impression.

Expectations [are] built by her collaborators - who aided artists like Dua and Kylie in carving revered pop niches - weigh detrimentally on the record: it doesn’t push itself nearly as far. Yet, undeniably, it’s a dependable, invigorating debut.

There’s a decidedly different tone to proceedings. World Peace is None of Your Business feels infinitely more concise, and musically more defined.

The Leeds-based group’s long-delayed debut might not offer much in variety (in short, if you’re into a combination of those groups’ [Gengahr, Bombay Bicycle Club or alt-J] sounds, you’re going to love it), but in our current long, dark winter nights there’s a nostalgic tint to the songs on offer, whether the bassy synths of the title track, or folky ‘Smorgasbord’ that hits right in the warm and fuzzies.

‘graves’ may not be a huge musical departure, but it’s a sign Purity Ring still have ideas left in them yet.

For the most part the Angels charitably continue to breath life into a ragged genre with a looseness and playfulness that belies their serious business name.

Although still predominantly an instrumental album, there is substance enough on Breaks & Bone both musically and lyrically to reward those with the patience to persevere through the dense nature of the guitarist’s work and carefully unfurl its emotional layers to reveal a world of unhurried peacefulness.

It's pleasantly pristine stuff from the still relative newcomer.

It’s not a record that jumps out on the first listen, but The Unseen In Between works as an effective relaxant.

Club Meds is precise, mature and brooding, and despite the tendency to layer noises and experiment--most notably on the largely forgettable ‘War Spoils’--is at its best when closer to Mangan’s folk-based home.

A transitional work perhaps, but whichever fork in the road he follows next, you feel he’ll continue to adapt.

On ‘Baw Baw Black Sheep’, Rejjie Snow reaches for a more conceptual take on his laid-back sound, but stumbles on the execution.

Nevertheless for all the mature restraint and consummate mastery it can be hard not to miss the sheer energy and fury of previous albums, the restless experimentation.

Medicine is an album that baffles just as much as it thrills.

This is a decent effort made frustrating by Segall’s prodigious talent.

Across its 14 tracks, Silver Dollar Moment rarely deviates from the same emotional note throughout. Leaving off ‘Sugar…’ also feels criminal.

A bit of a mixed bag.