Hopelessness is an exercise in provocation. It’s anti-apathy, determined to stir thought, even if that’s total disgust and dejection.

It’s an impressively cohesive record, which builds on their penchant for hooky punk rock and refines it into something punchier and more addictive.

Doubling down on Lime Garden’s refreshingly unpretentious sound, ‘Maybe Not Tonight’ is a new indie disco essential.

Packed with brilliance, ambition and warmth, SVIIB may be the full stop on the band’s work together, but it’s an album that will stand as the perfect goodbye.

A big and brilliant step out of the box.

Their more collaborative process has brought an album that, while rarely deviating from that Hot Chip sound, feels lighter and freer. Like a band finally feeling confident in their own skin, inviting us to find escape from whatever troubles us in their music.

A poignant, thought-provoking record on so many levels.

It adds up to a gorgeous album that overflows with easy-going energy.

It’s smart and knowing, flitting between perspectives with ease. Barely a year after his last, Josh Tillman makes this shit look easy.

Black Country, New Road’s seriousness and determined intellectualism is sometimes to their detriment.

Through the redirection of their sound, lyrics, and indeed, vocalists, ‘Forever Howlong’ redefines who BCNR are. But if one thing remains constant, it’s their unwavering desire to reinvent what their music can be.

Because despite the weight that this album carries, the overall feel is of a celebration of life itself.

The power and ferocity with which they do so across the album--as well as its rollocking instrumentation and clear social conscience--makes it a triumph.

‘Friend of a Friend’ is an oasis of normality on this album, providing a piano ballad that could easily be a Neil Young deep cut, but for the most part this album is exactly what a side project should be – all the ideas too weird to fit anywhere else.

It is a work that demonstrates how sheer and utter horror can be turned into music, and while that may not appeal to the majority, the fact that someone is brave enough to do it is really quite brilliant.

The band put their flag in the ground as the most intriguing musical voice we have, creating a bombastic, immaculately put together portrait of modern life.

There are plenty of shout-a-long moments along the way though (the frantic whoa’s and blah-blah’s on ‘Lionheart’ arrive at exactly the right time), and all-in-all it’s an extremely commendable effort that solidifies PUP as one of this year’s bands to get sweaty to at a festival.

Subtle swells of synth and strings back up the album’s most emotionally intense moments, but her vocals can do the job on their own, especially on beautiful highlight ‘cradle’.

The result is a collection of biting, esoteric hymns that readily combine the earthly and the cosmic.

Rocket wear their influences firmly on their sleeve and there are moments, particularly during the album’s back half, where the sheer poise and polish of the songs can have them veering dangerously close to being one-note; happily, the title track, with its noisy crescendo, rounds things off stylishly. There is much promise here.


All in all, a confident second album that showcases why Shura should be on everyone’s radar.

With Loom, Fear of Men have created something more than mere fragments; a record which could engulf you if you give it chance; where sounds and textures merge together to create a beautifully bleak story.

It takes no prisoners musically or lyrically. And, despite the exasperation which the album channels, the tracks never feel too dark and this is largely, in part to the warmth which hides below the rage in Mac McCaughan’s delivery, along with the guitars which remain defiantly loud.

Not one for anyone who’s not already won over by the pair’s particular charms.

A rollercoaster ride of diverse influences, the album takes us everywhere from nods to the freewheeling indie rock of ‘90s Jesus and Mary Chain (‘Dear Saint Cecilia’) to glossy, sixties-inflected love letters (‘Drink Rain’), via handsome, string-backed introspection (‘Love Kills Slowly’) and, on the standout ‘High & Hurt’, there’s a thrilling rework at the midpoint of the classic hymn ‘Will the Circle Be Unbroken?’ that imbues it with moody menace.

For the most part though, this is a party for one, best enjoyed curled up with few distractions in the twilight hours. Sit, contemplate, and be absorbed into Aldous Harding’s spellbinding realm.

With a buoyant and self-aware use of slang that will have you opening up Urban Dictionary, paired with the one-track-per-week release schedule and the songs to back it up, Kim proves herself to be a true millennial pop princess in waiting.

It’s all gorgeously rich in both sound and delivery.