The 'sophomore slump' (for US readers), or 'difficult second album syndrome' (for my European counterparts), is a challenge that every band must face. For the uninitiated, the popular theory says that albums follow the law of diminishing returns: the second will rarely be superior to the first. And if by chance, it is, a career in music is almost a given.

After a fantastic debut album, everything changes: band dynamics, the weight on your shoulders, and of course, popularity.

Some bands don't know how to deal with the newfound expectation. Writing music is much easier when no one is interested. But when the heat and promotional madhouse of a successful debut album dies down, how do you respond? How can you recreate the magic, at least equalling, if not surpassing your first attempt to prove that you are capable? This is a trial by fire, the true ritual that must be passed in order for talent to be affirmed. The second album often proves elusive. And coincidentally, it's also the album that will make or break a career.

Others can't work on a time frame. A debut album can be crafted across a lifetime, because no one is waiting for you. When a band has been struggling for years, perfecting their songs in front of various audiences, touring until exhaustion, and honing their act, that same process is difficult to condense into a year, the acceptable follow up period.  

Most bands fail to second-guess what we, the audience, want to hear. Usually, bands expand their sound, adding instrumentation that is not only unnecessary, but equally impossible to recreate live. And in changing their style, they may be removing the qualities that led us to adore them in the first place. Rapid change is a sure-fire route to failure. The key is quietly tuning certain aspects of your music, until the sound becomes something different altogether. 

There is almost certainly a formula for success. Experimentation is encouraged, but an almost invisible line of acceptance must be tread; verge too far over to the 'quirky' side and you've lost us. The catalyst for this process is the choice of producer. In the hands of Rick Rubin, Erol Alkan or Brian Eno, say, you can rest easy.

The Arctic Monkeys are one of the few bands that beat the curse with ease. Taking a sound that was already distinctive, they simply improved where they could. And whilst I make that feat sound easy, it really isn't.

The quickest way to understanding this so called 'curse' is to look at examples. Take Jet, for example. Their strategy was to really take their time over the follow up, 'Shine', but in the end they spent so long getting things right that we had all forgotten about them by the time they finally got around to releasing the album. Just as quick as it started, a career was effectively ended- you probably haven't even considered their existence since you last heard 'Cold Hard Bitch'.

And yet, this trend is all new. In the past, bands weren't expected to reach their peak until well into their career. Surely the joy of music, and life in general, is witnessing growth, change and progression. And yet in the modern age we expect artists to be on top form from the get go.

An interesting point arises when you consider the question: 'what is your definition of a sophomore slump?'. Obviously, the quality of an album is subjective. However, in some cases, the boundaries between people's opinions become so extreme that for every person hailing the album as a realisation of talent (A), there is another to condemn it as a 'piece of shit' (B). Generally, this translates into the fans (A), and the critics (B). An apt example of this is 'Room On Fire', the second album by The Strokes.

How do you follow up an album that pretty much spawned its own scene? And let us not forget the endless horde of identikit rivals waiting to fill the gaps like a musical poly-filler (and just about as exciting), who were conveniently there for critics to draw comparisons. 'Room On Fire' was not the answer the journalists were waiting for.
 
And how the mighty fall from grace. The Stone Roses, widely acknowledged to have produced the best British debut of all time, followed up with a train wreck of an album, which finished their career. The hatred spawned by a five-year recording process broke the band up, and they never recovered. Naming one of the worst follow-ups in history as 'The Second Coming' also strikes me as hilariously ironic.

There is, however, always hope. Sometimes, a little bit of reflection can be a good thing; for every band like who sailed through their second album, there are three times as many who were 'late bloomers'. U2? After their critically acclaimed 'Boy', they followed it up with 'October' a strongly religious album that received widely critical reviews and confused journalists and fans alike. We need not have worried, considering 11 albums into their career, U2 are still going strong. They are the strongest and most inspiring example of recovery.

The sophomore slump lives on … its most recent victim was Bloc Party. 'Weekend In The City' was a reviewer's nightmare, with its excessive instrumentation that paled in comparison to 'Silent Alarm', essentially Kele Okereke living out a Timbaland fantasy. And yet, only months after it's release, Bloc Party made up for it with a little ditty by the name of 'Flux'.  Every prolific artist will face a rough patch in their career. Wouldn't you rather it were early on, than late into their career?

A little bit of faith can go a long way. I imagine that most people don't look at bands early into their career, prophesising that 'they will be massive' in ten years. However, I hope this article will cause you to stop and think- suspend your grasp on normality for a few minutes. No one is beyond musical redemption. I would ask you to re-examine your standing; so what if 'Konk' was horrendous? Who's to say that The Kooks aren't capable of much more?

I think what I am really trying to say is that whilst it is most definitely real, the concept of the 'sophomore slump' begins to vanish as soon as you examine its creation, and your own personal criteria.

This is a meme ingrained into cultural history. The 'sophomore curse' didn't exist until we created it. And just in the same way, we should be able to destroy it. Bands weren't afraid of their second album until publications such as NME and Rolling Stone began to over-hype bands, which in many cases, lacked the talent. Instead, make things simple… The age old adage says that 'everyone has one decent album in them'.  Emphasis on the word 'one.' And if you are capable of more than that, you should be here to stay.

Will Hines, 17, is a student currently residing in Cheltenham UK, and is about to leave school for university. He blogs daily over at The Cold Cut (http://thecoldcut.blogspot.com), following the hottest new music and produces monthly podcasts and song remixes.