Here, he notes the dying of the light show with autumnal retreads of key songs from his annus mirabilis, including A Whiter Shade Of Pale, See Emily Play, A Day In The Life and – maybe toughest of all – Traffic’s No Face, No Name, No Number. [Oct 2024, p.82]

Their template of new music plus archival spoken word is revitalised here, with Earhart’s writing voiced anew by actor Kate Graham. Towards The Dream is guitar-twanging exhilaration. [Nov 2024, p.84]

Behind the moments that sound like megachurch guided meditation, however, are flashes of brilliant disturbance. .... Sophie stands as a monument to what might have been. [Dec 2024, p.92]

It’s late summer sunshine in music form. [Dec 2024, p.93]

No consolation, no platitudes: just stark commitment to picking up human signals through the storm. [Dec 2024, p.93]

Though the album opens with an isolated funky bass line, Butterss proves a democratic bandleader, often ceding the spotlight to saxophonist Josh Johnson and guitarist Gregory Uhlmann, Butterss’ companions in another fine group, SML. [Dec 2024, p.87]

Peaceful Place slips in a bit of Afrobeat and That’s What I Love echoes Channel Orange-era Frank Ocean, and throughout Bridges’ vocal talents continue to shine. [Dec 2024 p.84]

Too much of this sounds like recycled plastic pop. [Dec 2024 p.84]

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?