In trying to make himself standout as an individual, he may have gone too far on his album GOB and scared off any potential mainstream listeners with his far-out style.

Both Ways Open Jaws is an album that is best when taken as a whole and wholly intriguing trip into that most treacherous and elusive of terrains: the happy marriage of eccentricity and pop song craft.

Magic Pony Ride might not be the most ambitious record in the world, or in Paradinas’ discography, but the music accomplishes its stated goals and is enjoyable in the process.

Hegarty's fourth album strictly follows the template laid down by his previous records: fragile, sombre and wistful, always dominated by that extraordinary tremulous voice, seemingly forever on the brink of bursting into tears.

A Swedish Love Story is, from one end to the other, a completely enjoyable slice of violin-driven pop perfection. But its brevity means that the listener is slapped in the face with reality all too quickly, like being awoken from a dream just as you were getting to the really good part.

It's the finest of Fink's songwriting albums to date, building on the promise shown in Biscuits For Breakfast with a confident assurance of his talent and in what he has to say.

Sega’s production is consistently impressive, whether it’s the seasick bass on Elk Skin’s glitchy hook, True’s baroque chord sequence or the pumping trancey arrangement of Dirt. He is a better producer than a songwriter however, and some of the less musically eventful .tracks test the patience.

It’s an altogether bolder and more varied effort than This Is PiL--making this probably the best set to bear the band’s name since 1985’s Album.

Overall, A New Testament is an improvement on Lysandre and demonstrates Owens’ ability to adapt to a multitude of different genres.

It gets on with the job in hand, never short changing the listener, and in the process providing a valuable insight into one of pop music’s great creative minds in the process.

While not quite up to the standard of his finest solo works like 1991’s Rumor And Sigh, Ship to Shore is nevertheless a remarkably fresh and vital sounding record, with Thompson’s rich baritone voice undimmed by the years and a clutch of excellent songs, mostly characterised by his familiar themes of vulnerability, disappointment and loss.

Taken individually, most of the songs are accomplished and engaging (though we could certainly have done without the dreary Sad Beautiful Tragic) but Speak Now was such a coherent work that Red can't help but feel modestly disappointing.

It seems as if You Know Who You Are is a shrug of the shoulders, a ‘let’s get on with it regardless’ statement instead of letting themselves get hung up over near misses and spluttering to a mid-air stalling. Instead they’re very much still soaring amongst the clouds.

Basses Loaded is something of a mixed bag. Some of it works, some of it doesn’t and some of it is just a little bit too silly for its own good. As usual though, the good far out-weighs the bad, and the Pinkus and McDonald and Warren contributions make it worth a look.

While the album’s more maximalist aesthetic may bring challenges for the casual listener, for those who commit it succeeds in being a cohesive and impactful listen.

It’s a lot more ambitious and experimental--more often than not, anyway--than previous releases. When it stumbles, it’s merely fleeting. There’s no doubt that their reputation is intact.

The result is warm, dreamy, evocative and beautiful, a worthy successor to 2005's self-titled debut and an album to savour under the late evening sun, once the summer arrives.

It may not receive the attention its predecessors did, from me at least, but it's an impressive return to form; that in and of itself is worthwhile.

In many ways, it’s the perfect soundtrack to a world struggling to emerge from a pandemic. ... If there’s a criticism to be had, it’s that it all sometimes seems a bit cold.

This collection shows the old tricks have served them brilliantly so far, and The Brighter The Light works as it says it will, leaving us with a lasting high.

They've come a million miles from their earlier recordings.

You will have gathered from this that Happy In The Hollow makes a positive impact, its occasional loss of focus an asset rather than a fault as the music runs free. TOY make music notable for its mood, groove and texture, if not always finding a killer melody.

This sort of music is not intended for close listening, relying as it does on repetition and vibe. It does, however, deliver the sound that Com Truise is known for in abundance, and delivers it with a nuance that’s a cut above the other YouTube wannabes.

It's an overheard confessional, or an electronic diary entry from a very sad masked man, and an artistically impressive and musically satisfying one at that.

It doesn’t hit the heights of his debut nor is it quite so thrilling; however, it is certainly an impressive work nonetheless.

It remains an awfully good first effort, and the boys clearly have some exciting ideas - not enough to fill the entire disc, but exciting nonetheless.

All in, this is a strong if straightforward album packed with effective if safe earworms, albeit from someone whose very name suggests twists and turns.

Sure there are obvious bands they can be liked to--The Band, Sam Cooke, Otis Redding--but its pace and passion make it a record to enjoy for itself, rather than its influences.

Choice Of Weapon sees The Cult back to doing what they do best, which is producing slightly dark and remarkably catchy rock 'n' roll.

While Bass Drum Of Death is stripped back and wins many points for commitment to a certain aesthetic, it’s also a largely successful album in terms of tunes.

This is a more mature, Baroque record, at times reminiscent of the best, new wav-ish tracks from The Posies' 1998 album, Success.

It’s light, supple and tender, full of balladry and spacey (almost psychedelic) arrangements that seek to soothe and soften your mood rather than make you want to breathe fire (as their early work was wont to do). Unfortunately, it also challenges Indie Cindy for the unfortunate title of ‘most inconsistent Pixies album’ – it is, however, better than that record.

Whereas Walker seemed to grasp something on that album [The Drift], here he seems restless and inconsistent, but his continuing artistic quest remains peerless and fascinating.

For the most part, it’s an album of solid indie pop songs that, thanks to Harkin’s habit of writing great guitar hooks and vocal melodies, manage easily to worm their way into your ears.

If some of the sound could be better defined, and the special effects shaken on with a slightly lighter hand, it would be more coherent and ultimately more impressive.

Apparently, No Más is completely sample free, with every sound painstakingly worked on to make it sound like it came from an old sample. It's this kind of logic that makes No Más an oddly compelling listen, in the sense that you're never quite sure whether what you're hearing is amazing or awful.

Whilst it’s not quite in the same league as many of The Flaming Lips’ albums – not just The Soft Bulletin – it has plenty of worthy moments that can blossom in time.

What Sremm 4 Life lacks in cohesion it makes up for in energy, the most exciting Sremmurd record since their debut.

For their entire career, The Polyphonic Spree have succeeded not necessarily when they’ve sounded big, but when they’ve been the leader of the pack of the weird. Many of the tracks on Yes, It’s True suggest that the band is thankfully moving back in that direction.

With The Rose... Matmos have created a work that fuses music and concept art, and doesn't sound like a terrible pretentious mess. It's an achievement that deserves your attention.

There are still creases to iron out, but Antiphon marks a significant step as Midlake move on to the next phase of their career.

Hold My Baby emphasises King Princess’ position as one of pop’s most singular talents, but doesn’t drive home the point quite in the way you feel it should. Perhaps that makes it an even more interesting listen.

They don't offer much that's new, but this album is far too enjoyable to squabble over that.

Alive After Death is a record interesting enough to satisfy those with a taste for the transgressively predictable, as long as you don’t scrutinise it too much.

Strange Little Birds from 2016 was a belting return to form for Garbage, and although No Gods No Masters has its moments, it’s not quite at the same level. Mainly written pre-lockdown, it strangely fits the current world probably better than it would have done if released earlier, though.

It's not spectacular but it is a reliable and solid effort. Whether this is a pivotal moment for the genre remains to be seen.

Paddywhack is probably too unassuming and restrained to make any impression on the wider public. That's a shame, for if you can be bothered to seek it out, there are some genuinely gorgeous moments that sound like nothing else out there right now.

Drummer Gianni Honey and bassist Daniel Rumsey create a magnificently grungy smear of grinding fuzz, before Bell’s squalling guitar adds just the right amount of 1950s style terror to proceedings. And there are sufficient quantities of those sort of moments to make this a very fine debut.

It is good to have The Coral back, and while Distance Inbetween may not find them consistently hitting the songwriting heights it does consistently impress with the quality of its musical delivery and the authenticity of James Skelly’s vocals.

So, the jury is still out on Conor Oberst. His loyal fans will be slightly puzzled by the easy going roll of the music but rewarded by several choice lyrical nuggets, while his critics will point out that Dylan had already released Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde On Blonde before recording John Wesley Harding.

The less charitable may call this record a collection of leftovers, in the manner of Radiohead‘s Amnesiac to Kid A. But Anoyo succeeds on its own terms too: the combination of sounds is still captivating, especially recommended for anyone who feels to this day that new age music was underrated.

They are sketches--nothing more, nothing less. But it all changes on the final, aptly-named, track Opulent Decline.

How To Love is an interesting departure for Cooper and one that breaks down some of the barriers Ultimate Painting in particular seemed contained by. You get the feeling, though, that we’re not quite there yet, it’s almost as if this is hinting, teasing even, at a bigger arrival that’s just over the horizon; something worth sticking around for, undoubtedly.

On this outing, greater rewards arrive from a more engaged, active approach to listening, one that helps ensure that nuances and small details are appreciated. It might not ultimately have quite the impact of their earlier work but it still has much to offer, showing them still capable of responding to new creative surroundings and edging forward with small refinements to their sound.

It may not be particuarly original or challenging, but there's enough positive signs here to bode extremely well for the future. The sound of 2008? And beyond, we'd imagine.

Helping along YACHT's approach is a frisson of punk attitude, often expressed in Evans' vocals but also helped by a refreshingly unfussy focus on production.

it. At times, this is probably easier to admire than to actually sit down and enjoy, but it’s an impressive achievement nonetheless.

Overall Dear Annie is pleasant, with other highlights including Mon Amour, Pink Lemonade (mostly for its gorgeously woozy production) and Egyptian Luvr, but it could have benefitted from losing some filler and gaining just a little more dynamism from Rejjie himself.

Even though there are moments that skirt close to self-indulgence--there’s an entire song dedicated to celebrated author Judy Blume which still somehow works, while Bigger On The Inside stops being a heartfelt defence after a while and just turns into a bit of a whine--and you’re left with the impression that a sympathetic editor would do wonders for Palmer, there are still some heart-stopping moments of beauty on this third album.

There’s an effortlessness to their interpretation that stops them from sounding too calculated, though--you get the sense that these are four blokes whose enthusiasm for the grungey alt-rock bands of 20 or so years ago is so great that they can’t stop the influence bleeding into their own music.

At 22 tracks, its formulaic and mechanistic approach begins to wear thin at times--there's just too much going on to properly digest it all--but as a compendium of chart-ready fodder, Nicki has honed in on precisely what works for her with remarkable ease.

Although there are times when they misfire, this is a startling first effort from the band.

There's no pretentions, no concepts, just an exploration of music and Zammuto is starting to write the book of the future once again.

While the rest of the album doesn’t quite live up to the expectation set by its opening salvo, the longest journeys start with a single step. And as the first step in the next chapter of Wolves In The Throne Room’s story, Thrice Woven moves decidedly in the right direction.

While the length is an issue, when Quasi do get it right, the results are up there with some of the best work they have produced over the last two decades.

The album doesn’t take The Orwells to another musical level but, produced by Jim Abbiss (who worked with them previously), it makes for fun listening.

It's Xiu Xiu's strength--as well as their weakness--to assault the listener with specificity, giving Women... a deeply voyeuristic sheen that can detract from the often thrilling musical invention at work here.

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

Full Circle is a promising start for a trio of artists who already possess a clear vision of the type of music they want to create. The chances are they will only improve with time to grow their songcraft and ideas further.

Had Crystal Fighters not taken their foot of the pedal towards the end, Cave Rave could have been their breakthrough album. Instead, it’s just a very good one.

It is perhaps slightly too long and lacks anything as thrilling as Drop The Other, but it nevertheless represents Emika as a fascinating artist with immeasurable promise.

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

Merchandise are a band at a crossroads, and After The End reflects that--they’ve proved here that they’re very good at creating accessible indie-pop, but seem more comfortable with their more brooding side.

Varshons is an admirable stopgap that proves that there is life in the old dog yet.

Protest Songs is not likely to prove as much as a career renaissance as their last album Encore did, but it’s an interesting and moderately successful little detour from a band who are probably well overdue their ‘national treasure’ title.

There’s the occasional curveball, such as the Latin shuffle of Olvidado (Otro Momento), but for most part the music hovers on an astral plane between speakeasy jazz and the later nexus of Dylan, Nilsson and Newman. The result is strangely timeless.

Clocking in at around 32 minutes, this is an album that tells the story of a 20 year journey in a staggeringly short amount of time, particularly for Dylan Carlson. It’s rare to request further exposition from this artist, but maybe it’s just the desire to bask in these wonderful tones and layers which mean that, as Reaching The Gulf reaches its conclusion, more is definitely required.

While the impressive Himalayan featured six tracks over four minutes long, By Default sees this length exceeded just once, concentrating more on short, sharp power punches.

His fans will lap this up for being another solid Brendan Benson album.

This album changes nothing in terms of her previous work; if anything it’s more minimal and darker, but as long as she continues to feel the pain expressed here, her hurt is our gain.

Calling on a series of well worn rock staples, King Tuff is a fine album that pushes no boundaries, but is quite content to get the party started.

Overall though, Stith’s second album retains the frustrations of his debut. The songs feel fragmented, with lots of memorable moments--a gorgeous chord change here, an inspired juxtaposition of sonic ingredients there--but very rarely are they memorable as complete compositions.

While it may not be 1995 any more, few listening will care when the nostalgia is this expertly crafted.

While there is clearly some cathartic work going on here the rhythms in particular can be too clinical and processed, creating a tension against the expansive orchestral arrangements that in sound too rigid and processed. Yet this is nonetheless a strong and often stirring album, and the voice sounds fantastic.

As an album @Reverend_Makers provides infectiously good spirits, a good bit of Sheffield steel and a nice dash of humour here and there too, delivered with a dose of urban grit.

Whether or not it’s enough to push Stables into a more prominent place, however, remains to be seen, but surely a wider acknowledgement of her prowess can’t be far away.

In the final reckoning, a solid album is raised a bar by its direct communication, illustrated by the closing 'Hard Time For Dreamers.'

It represents a substantial advance in sound and scope from Amidon’s earlier approaches to folk material.

While at times ¿Cómo Te Llama? might feel as though it's fallen through a timewarp from the late 60s/early 70s, it's not afraid to jump around within this, from raw garage rock to deeper, darker blues.

The darkness is more fully embraced on Easy Window, which smoulders elegantly and possesses a distinct undertow full of sorrow and a sense of detachment. When it’s done this well, it’s hard not to get swept up in it, but there are moments when it doesn’t quite come off.

Although Voyage is mostly geared towards giving audiences the vintage time capsule they desire, we are still being invited to imagine other possibilities.

When you're listening to Some Racing, Some Stopping you're caught up in a safe, warm, fluffy little world. It's only when you get back to harsh reality you realise that Headlights haven't really written much in the way of hooks.

It doesn't match its predecessor but it's a banquet of sound well worth feasting on.

When the album comes to a close--with pulsing bass and swirling vocal layers slowly fading out--it feels like the end of some strange Odyssean journey, one that you may want to embark on again before long.

As a collection in the SMD back catalogue, Unpatterns is certainly their best work since Attack Decay Sustain Release, but it still falls a little short of those admittedly towering heights.

It's a different animal than its predecessor, but Watch Me Dance is a fine second outing from a promising young producer.

Overall, If You Wait is an accomplished first LP, one that features a number of spellbinding singles and some moments of genuine, heartfelt emotion.

There are still several moments of brilliance--including the mesmerising and cinematic Bloodflow Pt II, which revisits their debut--but it is also found lacking when it comes to the overall end product. That said, it remains a worthy and accomplished follow-up from Alt-J.