Broadly, his remains the church of raucous or jangling indie-guitar with quirks (unexpected strings at the end of I Couldn't See The Light; clunking smartphone recording The Well Known Soldier), but Universe Room rewards the patient. [Mar 2025, p.92]

Ominous drones, clanking banjos, filthy weather: a winning combo. [Feb 2025, p.87]

An often beautiful, occasionally intimidating 48-minute environment piece. [Mar 2025, p.86]

Astonishingly innovative. [Mar 2025, p.89]

Both in the consummately ominous sonics and EGL's graceful baritone, there's a pervasive end-times mood. [Mar 2025, p.90]

Downstate's a more focused listen. [Mar 2025, p.93]

Cowards is all killer, both musically and thematically. [Mar 2025, p.84]

The results, recorded in Brooklyn over two years, are something of a revelation. [Mar 2025, p.82]

Aside from the occasional rote workout (Sweeden, enlivened only by Denys Baptiste’s squalling sax), Renascence finds Cymande firmly in the pocket. [Mar 2025, p.93]

The feel is sweaty, late-night techno, and while the Detroit clatter and acid squelch is more alluring this time around, it's Saoudi's lascivious persona that really pulls yoyu into the album's nether world. [Feb 2025, p.84]

She's found a gift for reinvention; the change suits her. [Mar 2025, p.84]

The songs are often slow (Boise, Idaho and One Of These Days (I'm Gonna Spend The Night with You) are lovely), sometimes more upbeat (smile-inducing Tonight With The Dogs I'm Sleeping; waltz-time Guns Are For Cowards) occasionally Doomy (Is My Living In Vain?). and all backed by a rich ensemble of Nashville "cats". [Mar 2025, p.90]

Stability and appreciation of life's little victories have rarely sounded more delightful. [Feb 2025, p.84]

It's all consummately executed, just lacking a burning lyrical purpose. [Mar 2025, p.86]

As well as less oft-aired selections from Stoogean days (I'm Sick Of You, a ferocious Death Trip), the Bowie era (Mass Production) and later solo outings (The Endless Sea, off '79's New Values), there's a trumpet-led singalong for The Passenger, and Loose rendered with a near-big band swing - weird but actually rather wonderful. [Feb 2025, p.85]

It's yet another beauty. [Mar 2025, p.93]

If you like Papa M and Nic Jones, prepare to be delighted. [Feb 2025, p.87]

Caribou meets late-period Madonna, perhaps, but given DIA's depth of melody and nuance, Minus might be the Phoebe Bridgers of Techno-pop. [Feb 2025, p.82]

As always, Genders writes beautifully strange folk songs that wouldn't sound out of place back in folk revival clubs like London's Les Cousins, except they pop and ping with Lindsay's lo-fi beats and organic samples. [Feb 2025, p.83]

This self-written, almost wholly self-played treasure trove of lavishly arranged widescreen epics owes as much to John Barry as John Grant. [Feb 2025, p.90]

There's a lushness to Dungan's layering throughout that reminds of William Tyler, Stuart Hyatt and labelmate Ezra Feinberg. [Mar 2025, p.90]

Rarely has ruminations on decline, in fact, sounded so vigorous. [Mar 2025, p.90]

A breathless, party-starting exploration of the connection between the Congo and cumbia. [Mar 2025, p.91]

Sensuous and calm, yet cut through with deep strumming guitar and a rolling lilt, it has a folk rock drift that's less ribald, less edgy than the theatrical spark of 2021's A Common Turn and in|FLUX (2023). [Mar 2025, p.90]

Booker has relocated to a more contemporary - and sonically speaking, far more interesting - place here. [Feb 2025, p.82]

One of those bracing, snarky, crafted and fun records that reminds you of a bunch of old favourites while simultaneously exerting its own personality. [Feb 2025, p.83]

In all, another most welcome Delivery from the Antipodes. [Feb 2025, p.84]

To call it a mature album would be to take away some of the perennially youthful spirit of Mogwai, but it certainly achieves a crafted, discerning grace. However hellish it may have been, a baptism in The Bad Fire has clearly proved to be a renewing experience. [Feb 2025, p.86]