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]