If there are faults with the record (aside from the mis-step of the fairground organ-esque 'Waltz), it's that while it works well as an album, it almost works too well with tracks all-too-often passing without leaving a lasting impression, with some of the shorter songs not always being given the space and time to develop as you'd perhaps expect them to.

To put it in an alcoholic analogy; their sound may be like a fine wine, maturing as it gets older. But they’re sure as hell not going to hesitate in sprinting to the nearest wood and necking the whole damn bottle.

This debut sets a nice, if mostly safe, blueprint.

While they do make for a well-structured collection of songs, individual tracks are often disappointing and the result feels like a half-hearted series of Doctor Who; its audience sustained more by thrilling trailers and the promise of fulfilment than any real substance

Whilst Teeth Dreams isn't a bad album, it feels pedestrian and ordinary compared to what The Hold Steady are capable of.

Though Bones is almost as dramatic as a standard week on Albert Square--occasionally to its detriment--it’s also impossible to fault this album’s single-minded pursuit of sheer, maxed out saturation.

It's a record that lacks the structure and order needed to make it into a cohesive unit, one that can be listened to beginning to end without skipping tracks.

hile ‘Back in Brazil’ is a tad baffling, ‘Caesar Rock’ doesn’t quite hit the right notes, and ‘People Want Peace’ feels a tad trite, even from one of the (probable) pioneers of the peace hand signal. Still, it’s hard to leave Egypt Station without a grin.

‘A Goood Sign’ never really goes anywhere and gets a bit lost in its murky pool of synths, while ‘i.v.’ doesn’t add much to the record. But overall, the falsetto of Mockasin and the electronic sounds of Dust marry perfectly into something stunningly weird; the kind of marriage where’d you wear multi-colour suits and dresses and tuck into an inflatable cake.

It's so well constructed as pop music the only thing you can really say is that there's not much diversity.

Whereas their earlier tracks were more simple, now their music is a multidimensional, multi-faceted affair, full of fragile introspection and meandering guitars.

Move in Spectrums is a deeply controlled sea of melancholic ambience, loaded front-heavy with infinitely more engaging moments than its murkier second half.

Pray For Rain is a sophisticated progression for Pure Bathing Culture. Despite brief drizzly moments, on the whole the album evokes the warmth of drying off after a torrential downpour.

There’s a gorgeous familiarity to the record, but it’s also one peppered with adventure.

Hit The Waves offers little in way of innovation, an unthreatening album to Sigur Ros and The Knife’s releases later this year, but The Mary Onettes are perfectly happy to look backwards.

There’s not much in the way of stylistic cohesion, either, and you wonder whether that’s simply because the creativity was flowing out of the almost-fully-reformed lineup or simply because Billy felt confident in following his every whim.

Where the distinctly Strokes-y melancholy of ‘Dead Air’, or the darker stalk of the Matt Helders-featuring ‘Thoughtful Distress’ succeed, others (‘Home Again’, ‘Old Man’) are throwaway jangles that feel like AHJ-by-numbers.

While not a record that’s likely to raise their star, Stuffed & Ready is one that shows a band resolutely ploughing their own furrow without compromise.

All in all, it’s a melodic, sprawling record to wig-out to; and one that means that Clear Shot hits the mark indeed.

At its best, Youngish American exists at the nexus of day-job classics ‘Giving Up the Gun’ and ‘Unbelievers’, offering glimpse of Chris’ massive potential to be an engaging solo star.

Fans of ‘Complete Surrender’’s sonic diversity, too, might find ‘Now That I’m a River’ similarly one-note to ‘One Day All of This Won’t Matter Any More’. It’s a better record, though, primarily because Charles sounds genuinely refreshed.

They've got some good ideas, but perhaps just aren't ready for a full-length release.

While in small increments ‘Sexorcism’ feels incredibly empowering and progressive, when you go 12 rounds on the trot, it fast becomes a law of diminishing returns, clumsy in its own damp puddle.

‘Hyacinth’ shows Spinning Coin are OK with dipping their toes in the water of something new, but will leave you wishing they would just jump in.

The main issue with this album is that it is not terrible and it is not brilliant. It is simply there.

The band have expanded their sound with mixed results.

Go Fly A Kite is a likeable album, but it sounds like Jet at its worst times and like an American alt-rock band past their sell by date at its best.

This is far from a bad album but it's also far from matching their best... 'This Machine' is both an attempt to recapture the glory days and a sad admission that it can't be done.