Smart, funny, characterful, there’s virtually nothing not to like about this record. [Dec 2024, p.88]

Martin’s sounds are of a grain so abrasive as to draw blood, but while much of Machine’s considerable power to thrill derives from Martin’s sonic extremism, there’s an impish creativity also at play. [Dec 2024, p.85]

This is straight-ahead folk-Americana, often gentle and slow (Lorelei; The Season) sometimes spirited (Ram-A-Lam-A-Ding-Dong), with Lenker duetting or backing up his dusty cobweb voice. [Nov 2024, p.85]

This most thrillingly deathly of bands remains alive. [Dec 2024, p.90]

Karate consummately glide through those crisp changes, unleashing wafts of Thin Lizzy swing (Defendants), Hendrix-y picking (Liminal) and stuttering Costello new wave (Rattle The Pipes). Farina’s honey-voiced complaints (see Cannibals’ swingeing cancel-culture takedown) clinch a spicy comeback. [Nov 2024, p.86]

Opener Anybody’s declaration of fresh love duly builds with electrifying presence. There follow bare-wire examinations of audience dependency (Lavender, Raspberries) and resurgent desire (In A Dream I’m A Painting), before Sick Of The Blues provides a heartburstingly triumphant ‘choose life’ finale. [Nov 2024, p.84]

One to file alongside fan favourites Aether (2001) and Open (2013): records that initially appear starkly minimalist, but gradually reveal boundless, beautiful depths. [Dec 2024, p.85]

Anyone craving Smith/Kramer’s piledriving interlocked guitars, or Tyner’s ramalama stoner poetry, will not find them on Heavy Lifting. Get past the branding issue, however, and there’s a great deal to love about this full-blooded, riotous and often deliciously funky record. [Nov 2024, p.82]

There’s nothing here to startle, just further confirmation that Cantrell remains a force to be reckoned with. [Dec 2024, p.84]

With Songs Of A Lost World, The Cure, often seen as the soundtrack to an eternally doomy adolescence, might just be coming of age.

There’s a song (Love & Revolution) about how much he fancies his wife! Fear not, however – Seun hasn’t gone soft in the six years since his previous album, and it doesn’t take long before the heavy artillery steps in. [Nov 2024, p.93]

The brothers’ art for art’s sake sensibilities drive pleasingly obtuse yacht-rocker Sounds About Right and fractured prog-funk oddity Curfew In The Square, while I Might Have Been Wrong’s ace chorus feels like an ambush after its clammy, insomniac verse. [Nov 2024, p.91]

Five solo LPs in, The Mighty Several vouches for his continued worth, fostering unity and empathy in divided times. [Nov 2024, p.88]

25 tracks of faux-Brill Building candy, corn and echo-laden chaos with linernotes by Richie Unterberger worthy of a PhD thesis. It is also an essential, at times wickedly delightful‚ corrective to the habitual dismissals of this era, Reed’s included. [Nov 2024, p.96]

In line with the album title, Richard reins it in, as if she’s singing torch songs, but the emotion is palpable, her lyrics freighted with trauma. [Nov 2024, p.87]

Goat shapes up as one of 2024's most enjoyable albums so far. [Nov 2024, p.89]

Darkly versatile second LP. [Nov 2024, p.95]

Forgoing cynicism, she looks out on the world with unbound curiosity and zeal, every coruscant melody and glowing harmony another discovery. [Nov 2024, p.93]

No-one’s going to show you everything, as she sings on Hejira, but this collection shows a woman out to see as much as she can.

A delectable-sounding record slathered in guitar magic: what’s not to like?

An unexpected beauty. [Nov 2024, p.84]

Setting Macfarlane’s words to music, the 13 tracks of Ness offer calm with a suitably disquieting undertow, rather like the place itself, with Thorpe’s countertenor adding to the melodrama. [Nov 2024, p.86]

It's a mess of ambition and avant overload, and often too much, but you can't help but admire The New Sound's Stevie Chick wild abandon. And while the whirlwind of concepts and sonic right-turns ultimately fails to cohere, its thrills are many. [Nov 2024, p.84]

There’s a vulnerability and a very English kind of saudade to Below A Massive Dark Land, but also a sense of individual purpose [Nov 2024, p.94]

For the closing three tracks, the revolving door’s finally still and Marshall himself (AKA Madman Butterfly) keens proceedings to a satisfying, if still unsettling calm. [Sep 2024, p.88]

A difficult record for many reasons, but an ineffably beautiful one, too. [Nov 20224, p.89]

Shows he hasn’t lost the knack for marrying accessible melodies with vivid storytelling, wry humour and subversive lyrics. [Nov 2024, p.85]

Flow Critical Lucidity – the best record Moore has been involved in since Sonic Youth’s The Eternal, 15 years ago now – feels as close as he’s come to something new. [Nov 2024, p.86]

Inspired by dives into recessed memories for a concurrent memoir, these songs are testaments to his experiences – and his expertise as a steadfast syndicate of the great rock song. [Oct 2024, p.88]

She turns doubt and anxiety into subtly burnished, soulful nocturnes, more sensual than any existential crisis should be. [Oct 2024, p.82]

The rough-milled follow-up to 2020’s Down In The Weeds, Where The World Once Was doesn’t suggest time is mellowing him. [Oct 2024, p.86]

Packed with songs that tug imperceptibly at the heartstrings, Odyssey runs the gamut from introspection and melancholy to hope and deep joy. It will take some beating. [Nov 2024, p.90]

This record shows an artist stretching out to fill space, refusing to settle for anything small. [Oct 2024, p.85]

All the ducking and feinting is entertaining enough, but it begins to feel more like a box of disguises than a coherent album. [Nov 2024, p.91]

Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s Efrim Manuel Menuck and Mat Ball of Big Brave joined guitar forces to make music that stood up to the Montreal cold. The heat generated by the band (completed by Jonathan Downs and Patch One of Maine post-rockers Ada) isn’t entirely the kind you huddle around for comfort, though. [Nov 2024, p.87]

A yin-yang parity asserts itself with the wistful, jazzy, Rose-sung Simple Days, electro-pop You Saw and epic, wicca-ish Druantia. Elsewhere, there’s arty chamber pop, demented swing-jazz and the epic Surf’s Up-echoing closer Sunrise: middle-aged bliss has rarely sounded so weirdly magical. [Nov 2024, p.91]

In Waves partly mimics the jostle and heave of a crowded dancefloor. All You Children presses The Avalanches into euphoric service, matched for dynamism by Baddy On The Floor, a bend-and-snap collaboration with DJ Honey Dijon. [Nov 2024, p.85]

There are inevitable quibbles. The omission of The Band’s own songs here is a missed opportunity to tie together these two institutions, both then wrestling with unknown futures. In the sleevenote, critic Elizabeth Nelson forgoes research into a historical moment where the primary witnesses are rapidly disappearing for a spree of purple prose. Some tapes are, of course, better than others. But, by and large, pick a track at random and you’ll find yourself stunned by how hard these six were pushing. [Nov 2024, p.98]

For the most part Migratory is music for reflection and meditation, held together by Fujita’s unique lightness of touch. [Oct 2024, p.84]

Sometimes, as on Hold Me In The Fire, they unashamedly chase Chasing Cars’ modern-day-standard template. At others, like restive prisoners looking to try new ideas on the outside, they break out, hence the electro-percussive, choral title track. [Oct 2024, p.88]

Plunges him back to the old soundworld of heavily Auto-Tuned ballads (of the 12 tracks here, only Bread Believer is pacey) and a voice that sounds like it’s on the verge of tears, even if the lyrics sound more disorientated than tragic. .... But Maine’s nagging melodies hold up, and Shirt still feels convincingly real. [Oct 2024, p.84]

From Terry Edwards’ dysregulated trumpet on Always A Stranger to the wheezy strings of The Secret Of Breathing, Soft Tissue is a magnificent reminder that few people know better how to arrange life’s broken pieces, how to orchestrate the chaos. [Oct 2024, p.84]

A gorgeously warm, light-footed pop that roams freely. [Aug 2024, p.88]

BASIC speak their own language, but it’s not long before their signs and signals unfold into a fascinating new conversation. [Oct 2024, p.82]

Davachi’s work can be gently provocative but it’s never anything less than stimulating. [Oct 2024, p.91]

The delicious, Moroder breakbeat thump of Birth4000 and squealing garagey rave of Vocoder (Club Mix) have the swagger and heft to leave club soundsystems wobbling, but also need good headphones for home enjoyment. [Oct 2024, p.82]

Newbies Jet Pac Boomerang and Went To A Party zing with his best, quality control being the soul of wit. [Oct 2024, p.88]

Following 2009’s ‘re-enactment’ shows, here, finally, is this fabulous, full-blooded seventh LP. Aficionados will be punching the air within the first minute of opener Hide & Seek: it’s all there. [Oct 2024, p.82]

Nada Surf have always been close to greatness, and Moon Mirror won’t win new fans, but it is wonderful. [Oct 2024, p.82]

Beyond box-ticking cameos from Snoop, Nas, Eminem and Busta Rhymes, horror film-stringed posse cut The Vow (with relative unknowns Mad Squablz, J-S.A.N.D. and Don Pablito) shows LL at his sharpest, “movin’ chess pieces like telekinesis” and stretching his elasticity to ridiculous extremes. Call it a comeback. [Oct 2024, p.88]

As with FWF, it’s hard to discern any redemptive purpose other than the release of darker energies, but on that score Wither’s Suicide-esque pulse, All The Same’s filthy, Decius-style hi-NRG and Running’s synth-bashing rush best hit FD’s target. [Oct 2024, p.86]

Writing about it is like trying to catalogue and analyse a newly opened Egyptian tomb. Archives III is more legacy than most artists muster in a lifetime. [Oct 2024, p.92]

When Fuller and Turner sing together (try Happiness or Cherry) it’s truly spectacular, two of a kind becoming one. [Oct 2024, p.90]

Regardless of language, it’s substantive synth-pop with broad appeal. [Oct 2024, p.91]

Sometimes futuristic, at others surprisingly formulaic, it’s another stepping stone on Sinephro’s path to greatness but one where the parts are worth more than the whole. [Oct 2024, p.87]

Bands, as Donahue famously sang on Holes, “never work quite right”, but with this late-period beauty, Mercury Rev have hit the cosmic balance perfectly. [Oct 2024, p.83]

These songs are consistently fantastic: from Brand New’s harmony-laden prayer for rebirth, to The Letters, Etc’s wry, country-steeped moment of clarity, whispering “how strange to be strangers after what we was”. [Sep 2024, p.89]

There’s an irresistibly slinky Stones groove to Boom Boom Back (Beck Hansen yelps mid-chorus), while Fontaines D.C.’s Grian Chatten guests on the smouldering Stranger. Throughout, Cosials and Perrote joyfully excel. [Oct 2024, p.88]

Sometimes co-written with The The’s guitarist Barrie Cadogan or keyboardist DC Collard, these 12 songs cement Johnson’s ‘cherishable agitator’ status. And – whisper it – there’s hope here, too. [Oct 2024, p.86]

Booze and heartache are constants, but the mood is never morose, borne aloft by Lenderman’s guitar playing, which is primal but emotionally lucid. His tender lyricism is another big plus, locating laudable empathy for his cast of lovable losers. [Oct 2024, p.90]

She counts up her decades on the twinkly Hell-Oh Sixty, ponders the cruel power of good hair on Bangs, and documents love passing its sell-by date on The Farewell Tour, before finding Tom Petty-ish redemption with closing heartbreaker Last Night’s Rainbow. [Oct 2024, p.89]

It’s brilliant, moving stuff, and if this were to be David Gilmour’s final record, it’s certainly the best of his solo career. [Oct 2024, p.80]

If the near Herculean task of sustaining enchantment through 12 instrumentals just occasionally tests Los Bitchos, it's easily forgivable. [Sep 2024, p.92]

Ritual is enchanting and transportive. [Sep 2024, p.84]

While ably constructed, particularly on the wistful The Old House, these songs feel slight - a starting point from which Konschuh's own individual voice may blossom. [Oct 2024, p.84]

There are still instances of thrilling freneticism; a Scandinavian Deerhoof. But this LP is often more cleanly directional – less angular and full of unexpected calm, as with the sweet vocal/ guitar chimes on Bell. [Sep 2024, p.89]

A deeply human record, the shepherd stepping away from his sermons to look for wonder and rapture. [Oct 2024, p.86]

You emerge rooting for Nicholson on every count. [Sep 2024, p.91]

Assembling musicians from the electronica, folk and jazz spheres to frame her disquisitions, she has fashioned a disquieting, gripping artefact. [Aug 2024, p.84]

Much of Ill Times Andrew Perry swings by like a more ’80s-fixated Black Keys (particularly yowler Fool For You), with Kenny-Smith unforeseeably excelling on the mike as a soul man, exorcising paternal bereavement (Dud) and the title track’s all-pervasive life agony. Old Transistor Radio busts out P-Funk proto-hip-hop, but there’s sufficient finesse here to make this team-up a keeper. [Sep 2024, p.93]

With her gravel’n’smoke voice, ability to be both cheeky and heartbreaking, and a dirt-kicking live band, her rise and rise is inevitable. [Sep 2024, p.91]

The album’s overriding mood is captured by the title track’s gospel choir sample: “daylight, sunshine, dance, embrace.” [Aug 2024, p.82]

[Grian] Chatten’s role feels ever more pivotal. His voice now has multiple personae, notably a Jeff Buckley doppelgänger on Romance’s upper register peals. His lyrical flow, meanwhile, makes pretty much every song an event. [Sep 2024, p.82]

A culturally rich and generally wonderful 72 minutes of little-heard revelry. [Oct 2024, p.94]

“Don’t mind me… I’m a lazy sod,” sings Ian Gillan. Other daft lyrics such as “Mother nature’s keeping her socks on” support his confession, but Deep Purple’s indomitable frontman remains in fine voice and, musically at least, they sound reborn here. [Aug 2024, p.81]

The huge exhilaration of Hawk's previous two albums has largely been replaced by more troubled moods - and more stylistic variety - but bravura lyrics remain. [Sep 2024, p.86]

Laus's writing is maturing, Real Man and tie My Shows surprisingly country-folk, while elsewhere there's bell-clear acoustic pop. Any occasional sameness is offset by existential stingers. [Oct 2024, p.90]

Boasting Dwyer's catchiest hooks yet. But Sorcs 80 is most alive when embracing its core weirdness. [Oct 2024, p.87]

A glorious convergence of talents. [Sep 2024, p.92]

Another Day, another faff-free, one-session-apiece exercise in succinctness, for a sixth long-player which presents Fucked Up as a more highly evolved version of their old selves – dense, intense and to-the-point. [Sep 2024, p.88]

Flight b741 feels like the doozy Primal Scream aspired to circa Give Out But Don’t Give Up. Turns out you don’t have to fly to Memphis to shine. [Sep 2024, p.88]

Like Baldwin, Ndegeocello isn’t one to look away, but both are generous enough and have the artistic skills to let you walk a mile in their shoes. [Sep 2024, p.87]

Aswad and Steel Pulse stand proud amid JA heavy-hitters Burning Spear and Black Uhur u, while PiL, The Slits and The Pop Group mingle with the un-dread Joe Jackson, SLF and Angelic Upstarts. With Misty In Roots glaringly absent due to ‘rights issues’, there’s ample scope for a sequel. [Sep 2024, p.101]

Ever unpredictable and inspired, >>>> is anything but run-of-the-mill. [Aug 2024, p.81]

Through it all, Metheny’s sole medium is a guitar built by luthier extraordinaire Linda Manzer. Thanks to his cloistered affair with the instrument, everybody wins. [Aug 2024, p.89]

The occasional slo-mo reverb-guitar twang, and on The Answers To The Questions a weary beatbox, cap off a supremely unsettling update on Lynchian pop weirdness. [Sep 2024, p.92]

It's impressive stuff, full of craft and invention, but there are moments when there could be more mellow - and a touch less pyrotechnic indie-rock Roman candle. [Sep 2024, p.91]

Smoke & Fiction is lean rock'n'roll that plays to the group's strengths. [Sep 2024, p.86]

This NYC ambient country trio continue to evolve on their fifth LP. [Sep 2024, p.94]

No Name is a much more nuanced record, more of a piece with White’s entire varied discography, than it might have first appeared.

Are Possible grasps the roots of folk tradition and propels them enthusiastically into new terrain. [Sep 2024, p.88]

What follows is a remarkably moving distillation of Blur’s 33 years as pop stars. [Sep 2024, p.84]

Here, the 36 unreleased tracks (albeit including alternate or instrumental versions of the LP cuts) highlight the outside influences that each brought to the table. [Sep 2024, p.96]

Lovely though these songs are, it’s hard not to feel they demand a similar attention, your mind fighting to impose structure on their swathes of classic rock signifiers, their lyrical opacity. Izenberg might be getting closer to his music, but he’s still oddly far away. [Sep 2024, p.84]

Forged from 60 hours of improvisation, the excellent follow-up to 2019’s Laughing Matter is tightly crafted without being too stable, the band throwing their melodic rope bridges over wide dark spaces on JJ’s woozy exotica lullaby or Lifeboat’s ominous electro-folk. [Sep 2024, p.84]

The Alabama five-piece, alongside producer David Cobb, totally cut loose, upping the octane to hard rockin’, guitar crunchin’ Southern gospel soul. [Sep 2024, p.86]

The Evidence and Hear The Children Sing are probably lodged in Talya Salsburg and Poppy Oldham’s subconsciouses for life now. Give this beautiful record of uncanny domesticity a few listens, and they may well take up residence in yours, too.

A succinct record about wisdom accrued through adversity, its layered arrangements packing subtle psych tropes and world-weary vocal-harmony. [Aug 2024, p.88]