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Kings of Convenience - Declaration of Dependence

Cut to the Chase: Five years after the gorgeous and much loved 'Riot On An Empty Street', the acoustic Norwegian duo return with their third album of sweet, gently plucked guitar tracks with delightful harmonies. 'Declaration of Dependence' is always pleasant, though not mind blowing, and perhaps lacking the level of emotion of its eloquent predecessor. For fans of mellow acoustic guitars with hints of breezy summer jazz and a continental twist, it's been a long wait for the follow up to 'Riot On An Empty Street', a wait that has put the pressure on Norwegian duo Kings of Convenience to match the grace and sophistication of the 2004 album. Erlend Øye and Eirik Glambek Bøe have stuck to the formula that works for them perfectly complimenting vocals and sweet melodies that charm in their simplicity. And while these simple, graceful and nonchalant numbers can be, at their best, enthralling and beguiling, don't expect anything life-altering - there are no surprises here. The main disappointment, though, is the lack of a heart-wrenching, earth-shattering tear-jerker. But while at no point is Declaration of Dependence as poignant or touching as the Kings' earlier material, that's not to say that there are no though provoking lyrics here. 'Rule My World' challenges the 'morally superior' with lines like 'explain to me one more time, when they kill it's a crime, when you kill it is justice', while 'Freedom and It's Owner' questions the very nature of freedom ('Show a view to someone who chose to live his whole life in cave/He'll raise his arms to protect his eyes from learning'). While the strongest tracks of previous Kings albums were always the ones with the power to make you cry, the strongest here are more upbeat numbers like the funky, offbeat 'Mrs. Cold', which integrates string chords and light piano. Meanwhile, single 'Boat Behind' feels straight out of another world, one where the sun shines and people ride bicycles. Sadly, the second half of this album lulls, and the songs seem to blend into one lullaby-like blur, until the sparse, doleful 'Scars On Land' finally closes buoyantly with incongruously bleak undercurrents. When all is said and done, there's one thing to be said for Kings of Convenience. What they do, they do well, and that's make great dinner party music.

R.E.M. - Live at The Olympia

Cut to the Chase: These thirty nine songs are taken from REM's legendary rehearsal shows at Dublin's Olympia Theatre in 2007. Made up primarily of new material that would soon become the album, 'Accelerate', and filled out with lesser known album tracks from the rest of their career, Live at the Olympia does pretty much what it says on the tin. Opening proceedings by announcing, 'This Is Not A Show', a later explanation clarifies 'We are R.E.M. and this is what we do when you're not looking. This is a rehearsal...it's not a tour, because this is not a show'. Certainly, the number of minor errors included seem to verify this statement, and, along with the band's self-effacing interaction with the crowd, add a touch of charm and likeability to the performance. For a live performance, the quality of the recording is unfaultable. Though hardly a retrospective of their near three decade career, there does seem to be a hint of nostalgia here, with the majority of non-Accelerate tracks coming from the early part of the band's career. A substantial proportion is taken from their recently reissued 1984 sophomore album Reckoning, while four out of five tracks from their first ever EP, 1982's Chronic Town, offer some of the best moments here. The fast-paced simplicity and harmonised chorus of 'Carnival of Sorts (Boxcars)' make for a catchy treat, while the clear, snappy guitar riff of 'Wolves, Lower' is instantly inviting. As a general rule, Live at the Olympia excels in its predominantly upbeat, rocky mood, but there are a few exceptions. These come in the form of some better known numbers such as New Adventures In Hi Fi's 'Electrolite' which feels warm and life affirming, and Automatic for the People's 'Drive', which opens disc number two with its murky and ominous tones. Since this is neither a 'best of' style collection, nor a last stitch offering from a has-been band out of ideas (Accelerate has already proven the contrary), one can only deduce that Live at the Olympia is purely supplementary for hardcore fans. Still, if you are one, you won't be disappointed.

Alexandra Burke - Overcome

Cut to the Chase: The winner of last year's X Factor finally releases her debut album. 'Overcome' is a slick record that makes all the right noises and will appeal to those already enamoured with Burke's style. For people looking for more than just a British Jordin Sparks, however, it's somewhat lacking in originality. The instances of TV talent show winners enjoying a long and fruitful career are far outweighed by those who enjoy their 15 minutes in the spotlight and perhaps a brief stint at number one with their debut single, before returning to their day-jobs as binman/window cleaner/pub singer. For those who followed The X Factor last year, Alexandra Burke wasn't exactly the personification of pop megastar. Sure she could blast out a powerful pop ballad, but did she have the charisma and likeability needed to sustain a career? Her debut album is certainly packed with the right ingredients: polished production, the contributions of two big-hitters on the youthful r'n'b/rap circuit (Flo Rida and Ne-Yo), and of course, that version of 'Halle-bloody-lujah' that plagued the charts for weeks on end last year. 90% of the time, it's a winning formula. Yet, like Burke's X Factor performances, there's something missing from these songs to elevate them above the generic rhythm 'n' pop that's being peddled by the likes of Jordin Sparks et al. Nevertheless, there are some smashing tunes here: the catchy 'Good Night Good Morning' makes the most of the same booming effect used by Kanye on 'Love Lockdown', while 'Bury Me (6 Feet Under)' and 'You Broke My Heart' are throwbacks to The Supremes that Duffy or Winehouse would sell their beehives for. Even the futuristic dancefloor filler 'Nothing But the Girl' and drippy ballad 'They Don't Know' are slicker than Simon Cowell's one-liners. As a debut album, 'Overcome' is a compact effort, but you can't help thinking that there are more satisfying, more talented performers out there.

Cold Cave - Love Comes Close

Cut to the Chase: This Philadelphian quartet is comprised of ex-members of experimental indie/noise-rock bands Xiu Xiu and Parts & Labor, held together by robotic frontman Wesley Eisold. Fans of industrial synth bands like Tubeway Army will find a lot to like on this debut, but despite its sharpness, it's a little too cold to fully immerse yourself in. Their name is Cold Cave, but they sound more like a band that have recently thawed after being cryogenically frozen in the height of the '80s industrial synth era. Wesley Eisold and co. - there are former members of Xiu Xiu and Parts & Labor among the Philadelphia quartet's line-up - certainly know their way around the most desolate parts of the pop landscape, pilfering from Kraftwerk, The Human League and even Bowie's more foreboding work. The wavering beat of the title track is an immediate standout, as is 'The Laurels of Erotomania', a pulsating, gothic dance tune that belongs in a dark corner of a Berlin club circa 1989. Ditto to the foreboding tone of 'Hello Rats', a song that spits synthesised zaps across a bubbling cauldron of tension, while the clean lines of 'Youth and Lust' is one of only a few songs here that offers immediate gratification and an opportunity to get your groove on (legwarmers and pointed shoulder-pads essential). For all their expressiveness, though, there's something about Cold Cave's uber-cool outlook that's a little too clinical to fully warm to. 'Cebe and Me' is reminiscent of the same sort of stunted repetition that Telepathe attempted with their 'Dance Mother' album, and turns up much the same results - a blurry, bloopy number that's hypnotising and easy to admire, but doesn't particularly grab you by the lapels and demands an immediate replay. Still, a sharp debut, even if it's hard to tell where Cold Cave can go after a debut like this.

Whitney Houston - I Look To You

Cut to the Chase: Having dominated the tabloid headlines for the past few years, Whitney Houston has cleaned up her act and is back with a gentle bump, rather than a bang. Her voice isn't quite the powerful instrument that it once was, but album number seven is an acceptable clutch of sassy r'n'b tunes and ballads, if just a smite generic in places. To say that Whitney Houston has had a rough few years is a bit of an understatement. An ugly divorce from Bobby 'Bad Boy' Brown was just the tip of the iceberg of the troubled diva's problems; a reputed addiction to crack cocaine meant that most of the past decade has been a write-off for the one-time megastar. She's certainly kept the gossip rags well-oiled. Her tribulations are telling by the cover of her first album of original material since 2002, if not by its contents: the 46-year-old looks every day of her age. Still, if her personal life has impacted on her comeback, it's inaudible for the most part, although it's clear that Houston's voice has changed - perhaps prematurely aged. The marvellous full-bodied richness apparent on old hits like 'Run to You' and 'I Have Nothing' is mostly replaced with a subtle reedy, crackly quality, although it's only really noticeable on songs like the title track, where her voice is placed front and centre above the instrumentation. Otherwise, there's a hell of a lot to like about 'I Look to You'. 'Million Dollar Bill' kicks things off with a nice retro groove and funktastic bassline, empowering ballad 'I Didn't Know My Own Strength' is one of several songs that touches on her turmoil, while 'Worth It' and 'A Song for You' both add generous dollops of the modern r 'n' b to the menu. Guests include R. Kelly, Alicia Keys and Akon, but their contributions are ultimately purposeless. What people really want to know by listening to this album is whether Whitney Houston has still 'got it'. Well, she's not there yet, and she'll probably never reach the dizzying heights of yesteryear - but still, it's kind of nice to have her back.

New Moon - Music From The Ofiginal Motion Picture Soundtrack

With last year's Twilight soundtrack blatantly marketed towards emo kids with the likes of Paramore and Linkin Park, this time round music supervisor Alexandra Patsavas seems to be aiming for a more mature (though perhaps a little miserable) indie audience, by choosing a selection of artists to make the average muso's eyes fall out of their head. Among the indie megastars to appear are Thom Yorke, Bon Iver, Grizzly Bear and Death Cab For Cutie. Whatever about the rest of them, one would tend to assume that Thom Yorke is not here for the money, and that, odd as it might seem, he must honestly be a fan of Stephenie Meyer's vampire love saga. It makes sense that Muse are the only band to appear on both soundtracks, here contributing an upbeat edited version of their latest album's 'I Belong To You', as their fanbase already pertains to the kind of crossover this album seems to be seeking with its mix of emotive indie and standard rock. This compilation can be a little depressing in places, with the likes of The Killers, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Ok Go and Editors all contributing tracks from the mellow end of their spectra. The instrumental piano closer from Alexandre Desplat, who has composed the rest of the film's score, is subtle and elegant, while Yorke's buzzing synthetic bassline and reverberating vocal create a dark atmospheric standout. But it's low key, tender and earnest moments from Bon Iver & St. Vincent, Lykke Li and Grizzly Bear featuring Beach House's Victoria Legrand that add a pinch of authenticity to an album that would otherwise seem to be trying a little too hard to be cool. Some poorer turns come from the likes of Southampton's Band of Skulls and Brooklyn's Hurricane Bells, who attempt to pick up the pace with their standard rock numbers, but only impart an uninspiring repetitive thump. Still, flawed as it may be, the soundtrack for New Moon is still ten times better than its predecessor.

Flaming Lips - Embryonic

Cut to the Chase: After a run of their three most successful albums to date over the last decade, Oklahoma's Flaming Lips have bafflingly decided to regress to their days of experimental psychedlia for album #12. Don't expect any quirky indie anthems or singalong choruses. Do expect to be frustrated. They're gods in the eyes of many music-loving mortals, but was it really necessary for The Flaming Lips to unleash a double album as their next studio release? Has the success of their last two records gone to the heads of Wayne Coyne et al, after years of putting in the hard slog? Can the Oklahoma band really expect to win over new fans with a 73 minute-long album? Most importantly of all, do these 18 tracks actually work cohesively? It's doubtful that The Flaming Lips are bothered by any of these questions. 'Embryonic' is their 12th studio album, and Coyne has openly admitted that the band's previous quality control meter has not been strictly adhered to. The result is an album of sprawling, fuzzy jams, pointless wig-outs and half-baked ideas that disappointingly trail off into the ether. That said, songs like the gurgling, whooping 'The Sparrow Looks Up at the Machine' and the multi-part 'The Ego's Last Stand' provide fine background music, but 18 tracks of a similar nature begins to wear thin before long and there's little here to reel you back in for a repeat listen. Not even Yeah Yeah Yeah's Karen O can make a difference to 'I Can Be a Frog' (in fact, her supplementary effects are more annoying that 'cute'), while MGMT anonymously contribute to the messy 'Worm Mountain'. The best songs are those with even a modicum of purpose or cohesion: the dream-like 'Sagittarius Silver Mountain' provides relief from the tangled riffs surrounding it, and 'Silver Trembling Hands' balances the unpredictable nature of the Flaming Lips with a glistening, hazy funk melody. It's a pity, in a way, that Coyne and co. have decided to make an album that seems like a giant step backwards after their two stellar efforts in recent years. Are they geniuses or charlatans? Well, that's always the question with The Flaming Lips, isn't it?

Shakira - She Wolf

Cut to the Chase: Colombian pop dazzler Shakira has proven a tad irksome in the past with good singles but patchy albums - but this is her best effort yet. Shakira is a bit of a pop anomaly. Where exactly did she come from? What the hell is she actually singing about half of the time? And that thing she does with her hips - it's not natural, is it? It seemed for a time that the Colombian popstrel would disappear back into the shadows as quickly as she emerged from them, retiring to whatever island Chesney Hawkes, Steve Brookstein and the blokes who did 'Who Let the Dogs Out?' currently reside on. Instead of proving a one-hit wonder, however, she proceeded to launch an impressive assault on the English-speaking music biz, replete with disarmingly bonkers lyrics that made no sense, but somehow did make sense at the same time. 'She Wolf' is her third English-language album, and the production credits alone speak volumes: The Neptunes, Amanda Ghost and Wyclef Jean are amongst the big-hitters helping the 'kira cause. It shows, too. Leaning more towards electropop than mariachi horns and big ballads is a wise move for the singer, and a necessary one if she wants to maintain her success on a larger scale. 99% of the time it works, weaving Shakira's Latino roots into modern club tunes without losing any of her character ('Why Wait?', 'Good Stuff'). At others, she sounds a bit like a South American Kylie ('Did it Again') and even impressively manages to make trumpet noises with her mouth (the '80s Whitney vibe of 'Spy'). What's more, even when it doesn't quite have the same effect (the title track is a neat, catchy number, but not the best song here, and is she really singing "Matt Damon's not for me" on the big, glittering 'Men in this Town'?!), it's no big deal. This is a smart, sharp, sexy pop album that's a little bit bonkers and a big bit fun - just how it should be.

Mariah Carey - Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel

Cut to the Chase: Scary Carey is in desperate need of a big hit this year, particularly when her old rival Whitney is on the verge of a comeback - but she won't have one with this album. Fans of generic r'n'b may be sated by her 12th studio effort, but for those who are aware of the pop brilliance that she's capable of, it's yet another disappointment. She almost doesn't seem old enough for the label, but at this stage, Mariah Carey is something of an industry stalwart. The 39-year-old has reinvented herself almost as many times as Madonna, and with about as much fanfare, too (minus the adopted babies). She's gone through phases that range from bubblegum pop princess, to soul diva, to r 'n' b mistress, to inventing a disastrous alter-ego by the name of Mimi (let's leave that one for the autobiography). After a brace of albums that concentrated more on studio gadgetry and technical prowess than her actual obvious strength - that scarily impressive voice - Carey needs her 12th studio effort 'Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel' to be a good 'un. Unfortunately, it's not. Once again, the New York native frustratingly refuses to use her voice to its full potential, instead 'under-singing' the notes of most of these r 'n' b-flavoured tunes - notable exceptions being the semi-swaggering 'Obsessed' and the swinging soul of the likeable 'It's a Wrap'. But it's not just within the songs that Carey over-indulges her ego, either: 21 tracks - many of them 'preludes', 'interludes' and 'reprises' - make it extra-difficult to get excited about, especially when 4 of those tracks (yes, four) are remixes of one song ('Obsessed', FYI). There are murmured ballads, saccharine lyrics ("When you and I say goodbye, I felt the angels cry") and heavy beats in excess on 'Memoirs...', but not nearly enough memorable melodies, hooks or vocal performances. It says it all that the best track is a cover of Foreigner's 'I Want to Know What Love Is'; maybe Mariah's next album should be a collection of other peoples' songs. If it helps her get back on track, so be it.

Editors - In This Light and On This Evening

Cut to the Chase: Birmingham foursome Editors attempt to build on the success of 2007's An End Has A Start by making an album completely unlike its predecessor. Full of explorative and experimental electro-synth and heart-thumping beats, In This Light and On This Evening attempts to further diversify Editors sound. Diversify they certainly have - but how much is too much? The title track of Editors' third album In This Light and On This Evening begins interestingly enough, revealing a tonal shift from the Birmingham quartet's previous work. Singer Tom Smith spits out monotone lyrics over an antsy synth beat which, while interesting at first, ultimately goes nowhere - a feature symptomatic of the album as a whole. It isn't until third track Papillon that they really kick into gear. A pleasing and upbeat lead single, it is representative of the direction that Editors were intending to take with this record; but as good as it is, it's still in danger of being lost in the drudge. Much like Interpol's Paul Banks, Tom Smith refuses to let his vocal range waver out of a very specific range, which can be infuriating to listen to. Smith's voice may have been less of an issue on their previous releases, but it's vividly apparent on this one; the majority of the songs seem tonally and sonically similar and make it all too easy to get lost in the thick, muddy sound coming out of your speakers. In fact, Eat Raw Meet = Blood Drool, is the one song which sees Smith venture outside his usual range and is consequently the best track here. Overall, this is a starkly different album to their previous two, full of ambition and sprawling 5 and 6 minute-long songs. Unfortunately, it would appear that such ambition comes with a price. The evolution of Editors from a (mostly) guitar-based band to essentially an electro band has been handled clumsily, not with the relative effortlessness with which we saw the likes of Yeah Yeah Yeahs undertake a similar feat. In This Light and On This Evening is an admirable effort, certainly, yet ultimately a grossly unsatisfying one.

Sufjan Stevens - The BQE

Cut to the Chase: King of Indie Eccentricity Sufjan Stevens takes a break from his '50 States' project to write a neo-classical composition based on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. It sounds either disgustingly pretentious or a work of complete mad genius - unsurprisingly, it falls somewhere in between the two. It's hard to make up your mind about Sufjan Stevens sometimes. The Detroit native has always been slightly kooky with his art, whether it's writing albums based on the animals of the Chinese Zodiac, undertaking a project to record an album for each of the fifty American states, or performing whilst wearing a pair of home-made wings. His newest album is equally as strange. Now a resident of Brooklyn, Stevens was commissioned by the Brooklyn Academy of Music to make a visual and aural 'exploration' of the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, a road that spans the two New York boroughs. Accompanied by an orchestra and a film shot by Stevens himself on Super-8 footage, it premiered in 2007 to resounding success. In a way, it's pointless to analyse an album like 'The BQE' track-by-track. A 40 minute composition, it takes in elements of neo-classical work (if you're a fan of Nico Muhly or Owen Pallett, you'll like this) without being so off-the-wall as to alienate chinstroking purists. True, the song titles are utterly pretentious ('Interlude I: Dream Sequence in Subi Circumnavigation'??), but that doesn't detract from the album in the slightest. The vast majority of each movement are elegant, delicate affairs, occasionally stirred by stately brass, or lulled by Peter Pan-like woodwind parps. The only anomaly as such is the fourth movement 'Traffic Shock', a composition that bursts out of the traps in a flurry of light, sound and colour. It's livened with an electronic buzz and gnarled notes, but still retains enough classical undertones to keep it in harmony with the rest of the album. It's one of Stevens's most likeable projects to date, and has his quirky nature written all over it. Just one thing, though - what the hell does it have to do with The Brooklyn-Queens Expressway? Perhaps the accompanying visuals will explain everything.

Air - Love 2

Cut to the Chase: 'Love 2' is the sixth studio album of Jean-Benoit Dunckel and Nicolas Godin, and it's a return to form after the likeable-if-patchy 'Pocket Symphony'. Air excel at wrapping their songs in layers of unexpected beauty, and their expertise at pacing is also brought to the fore with this rather lovely effort. Having long established themselves at the vanguard of atmospheric pop and chillout music before people knew what chillout music even was, there's little for Air to do these days except enjoy themselves. Many would deem such behaviour as a lack of progress, but the simple truth is that Air are so good at what they do, that their musings often come across as effortless. 'Love 2', the ultra-cool Parisian duo's sixth studio album, is another stellar effort from Godin and Dunckel, particularly after the slow-burning 'Pocket Symphony'. With its focus primarily on ambience, there are no distracting guest appearances by the likes of Jarvis Cocker here, and the album is all the better for it. Several songs incorporate semi-sleazy, Hendrix-like guitar sounds beautifully into their slinky bodies ('Do the Joy'), and you can easily imagine a band like The Animals envying the swinging riffs of the brilliant 'Be a Bee' and 'Eat My Beat'. Then again, curveballs are thrown with songs like 'Missing the Light of Day', its male/female vocal breakdown and squidges/bleeps whipped into an electro pudding, and the beautiful 'Love', a song wrapped in layers of bass, cotton wool, glockenspiel and birdsong. People seem to find fault with every album that Air make that's not 'Moon Safari', but there's little to grumble over here. It may not be a bona fide classic, but it's still a rather gorgeous album altogether.