GEM is far from a masterpiece, but it's the work of an intriguing young artist still shaping a distinctive voice. It's hard to know if the pleasure is in listening to it, or imagining where she might go next.

Bossalinis & Fooliyones, while not exactly what you'd call a mainstream rap album, is consistently accessible, and in thrall to a tangle of overground production styles.

Vultures isn't an album we'll be talking about 20 years from now, but for thrills, spills and hair-raising heaviness, it gets the job done in style.

As it stands, the rich resources Acheson has at his disposal are sadly compromised and the orchestra is indeed hidden rather than exposed.

Until Now is best experienced with your critical faculties compromised.

She's a quick-witted lyricist with a sharp eye.

The dizzying craftsmanship evident on this debut LP is never an obstacle.

It's exhausting, and somehow impatient. Swedish House Mafia don't earn their big moments, they throw them in whenever the ideas pot runs dry.

He reaches beyond his home state for a broader sound, and the results are remarkable.

While it lacks focus and cohesive identity, the album Paul Banks named after himself does demonstrate that there's more to this artist than previous form suggests

They're too bland, too safe and too boring.

Simultaneously taut and lush jazz-funk-pop.

Repeated listens of this finely realised album are therefore an enjoyable must.

While The Haunted Man is an impressive record, one heavy with earnestness and polished sophistication, it's more like The Tin Man: somehow it lacks a heart.

As it is, it's simply the next Leona Lewis album.

[Martha Wainwright] has realised her best record to date.

On an album of depth and scale, Lytle is aiming to move mountains. It's big.

If Mika had refined this into a 10-track collection, trimming the cuts that don't quite click, we'd have an excellent album on our hands. As it is, The Origin of Love is stretched slightly too long.

Sundark and Riverlight is thankfully more chamber pop than chamber pot. It's an elegant collection, but an acquired taste.

That voice, with its hint of Gene Pitney, is a piercing, precise tool which lifts him above the laddish milieu. Ubiquity may beckon.

What scuppers Halcyon, though, is the sense that Ellie's still not nailed down her own identity. There's just too much bombast, and the magpie-like-production and big, booming arrangements swaddle rather than swathe her vocals.

While this is a confident and at times sharply written debut, there's little to suggest that Dog Is Dead bring anything new to the table.

Not a record to play through seamlessly but one to skip and cherry pick, Out of the Black is about selecting the monsters, and cranking them out at the volume they deserve.

From its start to the jazzy electro shuffle of You're Out that rounds it off, Ultraísta is consistently involving, even if it sags in the middle with Our Song. It's set to be a cult favourite rather than sell millions of copies, but this is because it contains fascinating ideas you won't hear on most pop records.

Lynne doesn't try to break any moulds here, but respectfully doffs a cap at those that shaped him.

This eighth studio album sees the four-piece climb the next step of the stairway of relevance.

Blood simple and bloody minded, their half-hour self-titled debut is a welcome lurch straight for the jugular.

It's definitely a subtle magic TOPS weave here, and like all the best records, Tender Opposites rewards repeated spins.