As delicate as these songs are in terms of construction (simple guitar parts, barely-there percussion and Hayman’s vocals--it’s the first album he’s done as a truly solo artist) they really pack a punch.

It sufficiently moves their sound on from Zaba, while also successfully capturing the multifaceted nature of man.

There’s nothing new or surprising here, but that doesn’t matter. The Nothing They Need is an album that works best when it simply washes over you.

All The Things That I Did… takes a little time to truly unfurl, but over time it opens out into a wonderful, if occasionally heartbreaking gem.

It is a far more ambitious project than 2016’s Care, and the ambition pays off as Krell returns to form with an experimental, nuanced project.

If you can get past the vocal onslaught and the occasional uneventful passage, it could prove more broadly rewarding over time.

It’s a worthy successor to Beyond Skin, and could even bag the Mercury Award which its predecessor somehow missed out on.

As there is little deviation, you wonder if the band had control with the various producers largely going along with what the band wanted rather than trying to exert their own influences over the record. Whilst it does work at times, Life Is Yours will probably find itself confined to the list of also-ran albums of 2022 as a whole.

MK 3.5: Die Cuts City Planning is diverse, lively and mostly encouraging.

An album that quietly seeps into your consciousness, a collection of charming chamber pop confections that is impossible to resist.

In ramping up their scope--a laudable and understandable idea really for a second LP--Widowspeak instead often lose sight of their strengths, too often not seeing the wood for the trees. Indeed, it’s when they’re seemingly less sure of where they are that Almanac excels.

For all its innovativity and dogged determinism, the album's latter moments just can't compete with the top heavy appeal of its opening tracks.

Pretty but inessential, God Help The Girl may make more sense when the film is finally delivered next year. Up until then this is largely of interest to Belle & Sebastian completists.

There’s plenty of returning to old ground, but this is not a derivative record, and neither is it a return to form. It finds Metallica rediscovering what makes them tick.

All considered, Minotaur is thoroughly pretty and easy to appreciate on a compositional level; the usual blend of modern-era indie pop with iconic '60s sensibilities. But it's like that particular horse has been beaten past recognition, rendering Minotaur a little too safe for its own good.

It all adds up to the sound of a band developing and maturing nicely, without ever losing sight of what made them so great in the first place.

This may be Toth's strongest and most immediately engaging work so far. As ever with an artist as untamed as Toth, it's far from a complete picture.

What Disclosure have done really well here is kept with the style that has rightly made them huge, honing their songwriting skills further in conjunction with a group of very well chosen collaborators. Caracal, then, passes the test.

Strange Weekend merits return visits, and it rewards close listening.

Ultimately, Bastille’s second LP is a more than worthy follow-up, one that throws up a few interesting surprises along the way.

This, a musical Indian summer, pushes them forward again.

The hook-filled I Seeeeee You Baby Boi plays to Carti’s more melodic instincts. .... Tracks like these are simple in the best way, complementing his loose, spontaneous rapping style, but over the course of this album’s 30 tracks the lack of vision becomes apparent and the inconsistency becomes egregious.

While Palma Violets have certainly got talent, their debut falls just short of the expectations that’s been ladled on it.

One can’t help but be impressed with how every song is critical to Essential Tremors’ progression, each song being placed in just the right spot.

Horse Thief will inevitably hit the jackpot, and Fear In Bliss is a mighty step in that direction.

It’s these minimal moments of Long Way Home that work best.

Aufheben may not be vintage BJM but it's still pretty groovy stuff.

This ought to keep fans going for a while, and does at least confirm that The Chemical Brothers remain at the top of their game even now, fourteen years after their inception as the Dust Brothers.

Captivating in all its eccentricities, evocative and groovy in equal measure, with this album Augé well and truly proves himself as an artist in his own right.

Some long-term fans may miss the studied cool of the band’s earlier material, and there’s a definite sense that, as good as they can be, Bar Italia are still a work in progress. Yet it’s a work in progress that can, when they hit the right notes, sound utterly thrilling.

Even if the strut is more tentative and the recollections come with a twinge of regret, Cause I Sez So is certainly one for the ages.

It all confirms Believer to be a suite of disaggregated, miniature sonic tapestries from a pair of young Scandinavian polymaths that delivers a welcome reminder of music’s endless capacity to surprise and delight.

On the remainder of Time Travel, Alessi's Ark sounds like she can achieve mainstream success purely on her own terms.

Just as the early promise of the album looks to be coming unwound, closing track Pictures Of A Bird finds the band in fine form.

Solo projects can be very hit and miss affairs, but Here In The Deep is an evocative and at times quite wonderful set, with some gloriously summery melodies: far more than just an album written to fill some time.

Disc 2 is a largely inessential collection of insipid dance remixes and the Massive Attack tracks. Disc 1 is a succinct summation of Thorn’s doleful, soulful voice and writing career that gives balm and bathos to those on the sidelines that, through their bruisings, let the brasher, flasher and more empty briefly succeed, but through doing so endure and become stronger in themselves.

Banane Bleue is a contrast of blissful pop music and highly contemplative soundscapes, juxtaposing our ideal version of living and a difficult outer reality. This record captures the essence of ‘the blue banana’, a place too vast to navigate and too complex to fully understand.

W is the work of a restlessly experimental yet surprisingly accessible maverick at the top of her game, and may well herald the breakthrough to a wider audience that its creator richly deserves.

Yet despite the lyrics providing more comical punchlines than your average Adam Sandler film, the lack of variation means Funs Cool comes up just short of being a great début.

Ably coaxed on and assembled by Ward--whose input ought not to be overlooked--Volume Two is an outstanding collection of tracks worthy of any discerning listener's undivided attention.

Despite these occasional moments of divergence and experimentation, fans will be pleased to hear that the album is still peppered with quintessential Field Music bangers.

The rousing music shows The Black Keys have plenty of rock’n’roll fire left in their bellies. ‘Let’s Rock’ certainly proves the electricity’s still there.

A better way to appreciate the record isn’t in one beefy sitting, but rather in bitesize portions. Devour it slowly and you’ll be able to savour its flavour.

Sub Verses may be genre hopping, but it’s not a particularly challenging listen as compared to its predecessors, albums that were both challenging and fun.

The success of such tracks generally rides on the melody, and here Bell X1 get two out of three pretty right.

Föllakzoid carry forward both traditions in their own uncompromising way, and with III they deliver their most polished album to date, and their most coherent statement of how they relate to their forebears.

For all the colour and flair apparent on Crazy Itch Radio, and despite some genuine gems... a reliance on production and arrangement where some more killer tunes would have worked more memorably is, perhaps, an indication that the Jaxx have, down the years, simply set the bar high.

Rolling Blackouts' essential problem is that The Go! Team has not found one meaningful way to evolve their sound past their critical-darling debut.

There are times on Texis that not only do some tracks remind you of previous records, but of previous tracks on the very same album. It’s formulaic, but, as the phrase goes, if it’s not broke, don’t try to fix it. There’s little evidence that Sleigh Bells will need fixing anytime soon.

As a whole, it’s a robust LP, deeply in touch with the zeitgeist of an era marked by, indeed, surviving against, the odds. While surprises are few, fans will find plenty to satisfy here.

There’s something almost mathematical and architectural about Brooks’ guitar aggregations but these qualities are conveyed humbly and unobtrusively throughout.

Bleak and broody music has never been quite so thrilling.

Beach Fossils is the sound of life being enjoyed for the simpler things and getting over the rest. It makes for a languidly pleasing bout of escapism at the very least.

When it works, The Skull Defekts are an unstoppable force, but every so often, they get a little aimless.

Whilst the prettiness in Tunng’s music can often be deceiving, it can also become a little oppressive after a while. The sound world can feel a little too bright and cute.

Unfortunately, as the album progresses into its latter half, attention wanes.

It’s an album that crystallises just what makes Arcade Fire so great, and when they hit the mark, as they do several times on this record, there’s nobody to touch them. It’s good to have them back on form.

With new release Stuff Like That There, Yo La Tengo are celebrating the silver jubilee of 1990’s Fakebook by once again demonstrating their flair for interpreting the works of others, as well as reinventing their own back catalogue.

At just 35 minutes in total and with just one track exceeding the three minute mark, the record is a grotty mess of a quickie which nevertheless gets the job done.

One of the freshest, funkiest, tragic and joyous albums in recent times.

This is a startling debut that pulls off the trick of sounding utterly disposable and simultaneously full of substance.

He hasn't quite developed the dexterity to match his grand designs yet, but there is enough on show here to suggest he soon will.

Her songs are similarly sparse and fragile, with some astonishingly mature lyrics framed by beautifully pretty melodies.

They've created a finely honed album that hints at a multitude of influences but because they are ploughing their own furrow they're in debt to none of them.

A largely attractive album, then, but one that by its finish may well have you yearning for an injection of the funk we know Gonzales can provide.

While Innocence might be easily lost in the pool of “alternative,” despite its flaws it is a strong addition to the band’s already prolific catalogue.

This first outing is subtle, but somehow it packs in drama and poetry in a way that’s tender yet fascinating. It’s been well worth the wait.

The High Country shows many sides of Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin. Most of those sides are easily palatable and enjoyable, with the odd mis-step here and there preventing it from being a must-buy.

Like their fellow musical experimentalists Black Country, New Road, Personal Trainer may not always hit the mark, but even their failures are more interesting than 95% of their contemporaries.

It lacks that sprinkling of stardust to make it special, but after the valedictory bitter taste of Tarantula, it’s good to have Ride back and evidently enjoying themselves again.

Dominant Legs' debut album really is an album of two halves. After the strong opening, Invitation dwindles towards a less convincing conclusion.

Write Me Back won't totally please R Kelly fans who crave the silly pleasures of Trapped In The Closet, but it is without doubt an excellent record.

After a while shapes form and the structure of this masterpiece become clear - a wash of beautiful melodies and sumptuous chord changes that sit somewhere between George Harrison and Echo and the Bunnymen.

Dark Night Of The Soul certainly has its moments, but in spite of the sequencing it sounds like a collection of songs rather than a singular body of work.

Notably the first half of the album, it cements Nature Noir’s reputation as a genuinely rollicking take on psychedelic garage rock of a bygone era. When it doesn’t work, as on the second half of the album (minus the title track), it begs the question about whether the Stilts should have abandoned their visceral rock in the first place.

Their debut is never a dull listen, and boasts enough creativity and considered intelligence about it to set Grammatics apart from their indie contemporaries who are young pretenders by comparison.

She probably remains a bit of an acquired taste for some, but What We Saw From The Cheap Seats pulls off the impressive trick of stylistically bouncing about all over the place while retaining a very identifiable vision all of its own.

Ultimately, while not preferable to seeing a live Cooder performance in person, Live In San Francisco is a terrific encapsulation of an unlikely, remarkable career, one that has surprisingly only gotten stronger as Cooder has gotten older.

Fresh, exhilarating and mesmerizingly addictive, Means is neither a limousine nor a Mini--it’s a triumph from start to finish.

Minus boasts a melding of styles and influences, underlining that Blumberg is at his best when he’s most experimental. This is a recalibrating album that sets him up well for even more leftfield musical forays ahead.

By the end of it, the creative highs have balanced out the tepid lows and all that's left is a plain old simple straight line.

For all the wait and weight of expectation, and despite some qualified successes, ultimately The Soul Of All Natural Things proves to havde too big a shadow to fill. Yet hiding within it is a charming mini-album by a sweet lost voice, one that’s ready to be found again.

AI vocals or not, this is an album that goes up near the top of Caribou’s achievements, a feelgood set of tracks clinging on with determination to the summer, providing a sun-drenched idyll as Europe heads towards autumn. Dan Snaith is clearly in rude health – and with Honey his experimentation has paid off.

Bubblegum is unlikely to see Clinic rocket to mainstream notoriety all of a sudden, but they'll continue to be one of indie's best known secrets.

Astonishingly, rather than the sound of desperate barrel scraping (although surely the cupboard is now totally bare), these songs document a band that constantly sought to engage and push the boundaries of music.

The arrangements may be cleaner and songs embellished with alternative focuses but it would be hard to claim they don’t have the interests of the originals at heart. Seen as a sensitive collective tribute it’s hard to view it as anything else than a success.

Frequently thrilling and never boring, There Is No Year reveals subtleties amidst the powerful energy with each play, and in so doing shines a light on Algiers, a band who stride defiantly forth, urgent counterpoints vital for facing down the injustices of our times.

It's difficult to detect any flaws in Attack Decay Sustain Release. Simian Mobile Disco have created a seamless electronica album that can carry the torch for the New Rave movement, and prove there's a great deal of substance beneath the fad to be found.

Sometimes the sound can appear overly clean, but on the whole Arnalds makes intelligent, informed decisions on the musical options available to him.

There's an exciting and engaging mini-album here but, across the album as a whole, PVT seem to be straining for a gravitas that their music does not entirely justify.

It is, amazingly, surprisingly, spectacularly, their best record yet.

Perhaps it's the weight of expectancy that renders this a flawed if enjoyable effort.

Miami frustrates and falls well short in terms of capturing hearts as readily as it will minds.

While Art Of Doubt doesn’t quite touch their previous high points, there’s still more than enough to keep many a Metric fan happy.

There’s still a distinct Penguin Cafe magic to Handfuls Of Night. The music here won’t come as a surprise to people familiar with their increasingly tightly managed aesthetic but it still provides a wonderfully calming sanctuary to temporarily get lost in.

Skinner has matured remarkably over the past two decades, and None of Us Are Getting Out Of This Life Alive is a refreshing marker of his evolution from shy hopeless lad to eloquent wordsmith, and it is packed with poetic realism that tells an inconvenient truth. In all, nine years was well worth the wait to see Skinner return to form.

There's so much of this record that causes a big smile to split your face that it can't be described as anything other than a success.

While At Best Cuckold is an album of entertaining truth and teenage legitimacy, and while its sprightly sound and pleasant air create a funny kind of optimism, it does not offer material that will sustain itself over time.