British Road Movies feels like a trip in the truest sense, and representative of that which Jackson herself has gone on: from leader of one of Britain’s most sorely missed bands, via eight years out of the game, to returning as one of its most intriguing new solo artists.

In boldly delving into their pop sensibilities, the group have created an album that encompasses their intriguing convictions for different genres and refined it into a record of high quality.

While his lyricism is filled with youthful nostalgia, his sound here is more mature than ever. Introducing an auto harp, his soundscapes are filled with a toned-down joie de vivre which makes the album stand out with its lucid simplicity.

Perhaps not the album that will secure the band’s legacy, but one that reminds their cult following that the boys can play hard as well as work hard.

For creating something as fresh and strong as this at album number eight, Portugal. The Man deserve to be applauded.

Chelsea Light Moving should feel like a tired hashing-over of sonic tropes, considering what a prolific career the front man's had. But it doesn't; it's a lively, noisy semi-resurrection.

Quiet River of Dust won’t be for everyone, but you can’t help but marvel at its ambition.

‘Sorry For The Late Reply’ is an album that’s taken the playful spark of their debut and refined it into a bolder beast.

‘DANDELION’ is pleasant if forgettable among the maelstrom elsewhere, and the sadness of ‘SOMEWHERE’ threatens to sink into lethargy, but overall, third time is largely lucky for Just Mustard.


Just like a big night out, or indeed its afters, the record is dizzying but flies by too fast and leaves you wanting just a tiny bit more to savour.

A thread of hope and resilience runs through, via bright, surfy punk and power pop.

For all its unoriginality, Clarietta more than makes amends with the proficient psychedelia of its groove-based jams.

[The off-trend songs like Alaska, Sawzall and Hawaiian Mazes] feel freer, more exciting and more innovative. But III isn’t that. Instead, for the most part, it feels like Banks-by-numbers.

Their particular brand of punk never pauses for breath: it’s thirteen unabating tracks, fired up on adrenaline and the thrill of just not giving a shit.

A typically playful, often infectious pop record.

’History Books’ is an album that personifies The Gaslight Anthem’s magic all over again.

On the surface it may appear comparably safe in tone; a softer and arguably less frustrated sound runs throughout. Yet it never shies away from the unmistakable fact that Shamir has something to say, and that it’s always worth listening to.

It’s easy to see why Sam Fender took the outfit out on his recent UK arena jaunt, possessed as they are with heartfelt songs based in place and time, with a few fist-to-the-chest moments.

The strength of A.L.L.A is when Rocky dodges the conventional diss tracks and instead tells his story without any strings attached.

They’ve taken the strengths of ‘Teen Dream’ and ‘Bloom’--reaching pop highs with ease--before being deceptive like it’s some kind of game. It’s not unfamiliar in the good sense, and it’s an odd outlier in an otherwise brilliant back-catalogue.

There is certainly well crafted song writing, but the album suffers for having a rather one dimensional sound; the most interesting track ['Sweet Dee'] is, notably, the most different.

A curious album that is well worth investigating.

Not a punk record for people who like Blink-182 but a punk record for people who like punk.

A promising album that should make the next journey with them all the more exciting.

Through exhibiting effortlessly strong songwriting with infectious hooks and warm, albeit slightly corny lyricism, the other slacker from Canada has matured into an amorous connoisseur of alternative pop.

An album that’s sometimes a little too abstract to truly connect with.

Two Door Cinema Club have learnt how to harness their mainstream power while taking creative risks. They pay off almost every time.

Another smartly-crafted step forward.