On paper these might sound like mad genius, but Daft Punk somehow misplace the wit and the light touch that’s pretty much their trademark. Instead, these long epics become somewhat tedious and there is a strong whiff of egoism and self-indulgence.

A few good ideas emerge, but are then repeated endlessly to the point of sheer boredom.

Their last studio record saw them in upbeat, energetic form, and whilst that playfulness is still present at times on Elwan, there is a conscious grounding too this time around.

There’s just not enough of that unhinged brilliance across the board unfortunately; a little more weirdness might have led to something wonderful. As it is, this is a assured debut, but lacking any real surprises.

Sometimes Simon suffers from a sort of elder statesman's churlishness or cynicism (like a musical version of Grumpy Old Men), which is not entirely appealing, and some of the songs seem a little under-developed. There is, however, enough here to suggests that new Paul Simon albums should be bigger events.

Disjointed, imperfect, tender and raw, at the final reckoning it sits as a fitting epitaph.

It’s true that he’s certainly earned the right to pursue his artistic vision. It’s just a shame that this only partly inspired slog isn’t a little more, well, entertaining.

No longer the challenging, lo-fi music of yore, what has arrived in its place doesn't have the individuality or character to sustain longer lasting interest.

Former Pulp bassist Steve Mackey eventually ended up producing the record, and he gives Pierce’s various sonic wanderings space to roam, but sadly it’s an amble of a circular nature.

Closing track Happy Now even dares to pick up the pace and is a reminder how good Uchis can sound when she mixes things up a bit. A few more moments like this to break the homogeneity of Uchis’ songs next time around would be most welcome.

The music is plainly listenable, the progressions are often entertaining and the lyrics are intricate. For fans, the minor evolution and heavier sonic palette may whet their appetite, but for anyone in search of a new revolutionary energy in the realm of indie rock, steer clear of the throne room.

At best, it sounds like an honest re-fashioning of comfortable old sounds. At worst, it sounds like a forgotten Christine McVie solo album.

Halfway through a song like Blouse (think Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young but resolutely uncatchy) this reviewer begins to yearn for the Clairo that worked with Danny L Harle and Mura Masa, though Sling is an album that at least works on its own terms.

With the lightweight numbers up front and the centrepiece dominating the lacklustre cast around it, the album is surely one of the most uneven and unsatisfying in recent memory from Callahan.

The opening half sees him attempt something a little different with mixed results, the second half seems him return to more familiar ground with only moderate success.

The idea that synthetic beats only serve to sterilise is ridiculous and passé – but while they show potential for something really interesting here, they do have the effect of cooling and sterilising an otherwise warm and welcoming record.

A signature sound is all well and good, but in the future the duo would benefit from indulging their inventive side more.

Daniel Lopatin’s eighth album as Oneohtrix Point Never finds him splitting the difference between the synth-based abstraction of his previous albums and a more visceral, abrasive style. While neither of these are bad templates to work from per se, the result is an album that doesn’t know what it wants to be.

It has the feel of a transitional record; having proved to himself that it’s possible to pair up heartfelt songs with sometimes incongruous music, perhaps Lekman will hone this concept further in his future work.

Their blend of the parochial and multi-cultural with a hint of dark mystery combines to promising effect here.

Northampton’s Child has a brilliant trap-style beat which comes with one of Slowthai’s better performances, as if being more autobiographical implicitly encouraged him to find his own voice. But these moments are too few and far between to save a record that reveals the whirlwind of hype around Slowthai to be not much more than invisible garments on an arrogant emperor.

When RAYE is self-consciously rebelling against the mainstream it results in some of My 21st Century Blues’ worst music, whereas on the best tracks we hear an artist who fully deserves this victory lap and more.

Coping Mechanism is full of feisty attitude, blaring guitars and rhythmically intense drumming, and sees Willow positioning herself as the edgier Olivia Rodrigo with mixed results.

It's reminiscent at times to what pal and label stablemate Will Oldham did on Bonnie "Prince" Billy Sings Greatest Palace Music.

It all makes for a captivating listen or a dreamy forty minutes, whatever your preference - though a possible failing can be found in only occasional glimpses of the human soul.

It doesn’t quite always work, but it is a promising reinvention.

As has frequently been the case with later Yo La Tengo albums, the surface appearance of this music is deceptively simple. Delve beneath it, and the artistry that has fuelled the group for three decades gradually reveals itself.

They may never reach the heights of 20 years ago but England Is A Garden shows them to have reached a level of reliability, consistency and competence that many other bands would gladly take.