Any apprehensions about whether or not Cults could turn "Go Outside" into a successful full-length should be hastily put to rest.

This is a damn good 10 track record, boasting noteworthy turns by its guests and laudable production, but for how long will it spin until the next one comes around? Curren$y has finally found the following he deserves; one can only hope he preserves his moment, rather than squander it.

Go With Me is like a big box of popcorn; it's tasty and it can be improved by the circumstances under which you're enjoying it, but by the end you're barely even tasting it anymore, and it certainly won't quell your appetite for a proper meal.

Fucked Up actively refuse any sort of definition, and David Comes To Life proves that they're more than capable of shouldering that burden.

Alpers' maintains her sense of individuality in her music while taking her sound to a whole new level. Listeners can rest assured that this album will not disappoint.

White Denim's attention to detail is superb, but everything just fits together. It must be said though, that they aren't breaking any new ground at all, but sometimes that doesn't matter if the music is good enough to hold its own.

Much closer to Z than Evil Urges, My Morning Jacket proves that a leap back can sometimes be a step in the right direction, even if we end up "right back in the same place that we started out."

The end result is an unfortunate fact that while Death Cab For Cutie seems as capable as ever at expressing themselves, they are running out of things to say. Or, at least, things worth hearing.

Regardless, even the harshest of words are unlikely to stop this album from being a success. And that, well, is kind of depressing.

At least in name, Heavy Rocks seems to promise a return to form for Boris. It isn't. It certainly manages a return to sludgy riffed-based heaviness, but the spirit of the record's orange prequel is nowhere to be found.

If nothing else, Attention Please proves Boris can do this softer pop-informed rock, but ultimately it holds more untapped potential than success.

If they stick to the melodic folk at the core of their best songs, that fateful open-mic night could be the beginning of something really great.

With some great tracks, and some tracks that are only just okay, Brilliant! Tragic! is definitely worth listening to at least once or twice this summer.

Though Moore's lyrics are a bit more obtuse, this could just as easily soundtrack a breakup as Sea Change could.

Thematically, Born This Way dances between fantasy and fiction and plays out like an autobiography; every track and moment weaved from the DNA and life of Gaga.

Is she singing lyrics? Hard to say. But these songs are unquestionably emotive, and I wouldn't be surprised if they were actually prayers.

It's unlikely that the album will be a big hit, but the best songs will grow to have a life outside of Feel It Break, on dancefloors and party playlists, which I'm sure is something Stelmanis would approve of.

Raven in the Grave isn't significantly weaker than any of it's predecessors, it's flaws are just significantly more obvious.

Let's Wrestle are at their best on Nursing Home when the tension is visible: Whether this is the push and pull between their original sound and Albini's influence, or the clash of Gonzalez's casual vocals and Lightning's roaring bass, or the juxtaposition of adolescent male recklessness with anxieties of coming adulthood.

In contrast to the self-aware grandeur and show of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Quik's done much the same thing he did in '91: put out a great rap record, plain and simple.

It is the inability to identify a precise sound, while all the while remaining consistent, that is W's greatest achievement, a notion as ambiguous and tempting as Rostron herself.

Without any stylistic or conceptual thread tying these songs together (other than the generic tag of lo-fi pop) this album leaves just a bit wanting. It's a great album, but it's kept from being one for the ages based on that disjointedness.

Instrumentally, every song here is impressive, but the singing is pushed to the fore on the majority in an attempt to instigate a hook, which is only occasionally successful.

Katy B shows she's a vital voice to the smaller UK bass scene and her pop imbued form of garage has enough substance and personality to back her play for something bigger.

Even the addition of pop icons to the Rome album can't allow it to rise above its previously stated goals. There is little, if nothing, wrong with Rome, but rather, it is limited by the confines it sets up for itself.

Yeah, Gang Gang Dance's idea of accessible and pop-ready is just as trippy and emotionally affecting as ever. Now, you can play it in the car on a Friday night, too.

Smother may lack the proper drive of Two Dancers, but it succeeds in whittling down what has become Wild Beasts' motif.

Though it may not be treated as an important album in the broader scope of music, it is an important album for Man Man, and one that is likely to age gracefully, just as Man Man appear to be doing.