Tiersen’s gamble with electronics pays off handsomely, the listener rewarded with a lingering insight into his world. A beautiful hour spent in the company of a fine musical mind.

Enjoy The View will undoubtably please the army of existing Jetpacks fans, yet tracks like Fat Chance could well bring in some new fans. Few bands can still sound on top of their game after 18 years or so, but We Were Promised Jetpacks do, and sound like they’re more than ready for the next 18 years too.

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.

Much of what follows is vintage Stranglers, incorporating tributes to their departed friend. These are done both explicitly (the touching song And If You Should See Dave…) and by association (This Song).

It’s not quite her Blood On The Tracks, but it’s a record that’s similarly compelling to listen to.

While he’s sounding as bold and varied as ever, White’s songwriting feels a little less focused, with tracks like the seven minute opener and single Genuine Hesitation and Take Your Time (And That Orange To Squeeze) tipping over into self-indulgent dirges.

Common raps with the calm contentment of a man who’s reached his destination, and it certainly sounds satisfying.

It is neither their most immediate nor their warmest album, yet its provocations are effective, and become curious and complex in light of the melody and harmony that sits above them.

He’s going for a darker sound, one which explores different themes than he is used to, but some of the resonance is negated by a reliance on grandiosity. Some judicious editing and pruning might have been preferable.

There’s no sudden rush or instantaneous hit, but that’s not the point. Its hazy, dreamlike and enveloping charms unfold anew with further layers of melancholic woozy, summery beauty each time, as you contemplate about contemplation. As it all forms into focus, and the dots connect, you’ll find that I’ve Been Trying To Tell You is yet another fine addition to Saint Etienne’s soundworld.

Yet another unimpressive, tedious release.

Senjutsu is Iron Maiden’s strongest offering in some time, looking forward whilst occasionally peering back over its shoulder. In tone it’s the band’s darkest album, but the sheer coherence and confidence of the playing, writing and production makes it feel filled with light and positivity. There’s conflict all over the album, but this is the sound of a band firing on all cylinders.

Despite its occasional uplifting moments, the overall feeling you get from Ultra Vivid Lament is indeed a lament for something better, something briefly promised by Resistance Is Futile despite its title sounding more Borg-like than Star Trek character Seven Of Nine.

Though this isn’t a complete comeback, frustrated Kanye fans certainly have more grounds for optimism after this record than they did before it.

Culled from various single B sides, radio edits and with two unreleased tracks bolted onto the rear, the band’s musical cauldron appears to be simmering over with malevolent goodness.

Looking back on traditions of the distant past and moulding them within a modern sound and context, it marks a striking release from an artist that is still surprising and innovating deep into their career.

Orla Gartland recognises this and knows she’s just like the rest of us, embracing our imperfections and focusing on self care and emotional transparency. If you’re feeling the same way then this is a smart and considered alt pop record that cuts deep and promises a bright future for a new star.

A singular, striking piece of work from an artist on top form, this record is not to be missed.

Chvrches are in a comfy place at the minute: their sound isn’t all that new or exciting anymore, but it’s still as enjoyable as ever, with more anthemic lyrics and shiny synths than you can shake a memory stick at.

This might not be the album that everyone wanted from Lorde, but it’s a solid, dreamy effort that deserves exploration. There’s plenty here worthy of attention if you can focus for long enough.

At 50 minutes it sometimes feels like some editing could have been applied a bit more judiciously. Yet that’s a minor criticism, as there are enough high points here to build on the success of AAARTH.

This is an album that demands to be properly listened to though, not reduced to background music – properly immerse yourself in Villagers’ Fever Dreams and it’s an experience you won’t want to wake up from.

It may be an album that’s been borne out of darkness, but as another Canadian wordsmith once sang, there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. There are plenty of cracks here – the joyous bounce of Sometimes, or the calm optimism of the title track – to show that Wainwright herself may have been reborn from the personal trauma of the last few years.

Pressure Machine is a decent attempt at a concept album of sorts. Some mountainous peaks would take it to the next level; without them it feels as though it could soon, somewhat disappointingly, disappear.

Native Sons is a surprisingly great piece of work by a band who know how to please their fans and accidentally make new ones.

Although none of the tracks on Welcome 2 America stand up to Prince at his mid-late ’80s best, there are some songs which come close.

Liars have not only been reborn creatively, they’ve emerged with by far the most accessible album of the band’s illustrious career to date.

Mackenzie Scott seems to have reached that stage of her career where she’s just happy to please herself, and it’s resulted in her best album to date.

What really grabs the attention about Animal though is its energy. ... LUMP are just as effective though when they bring the tempo down a bit.

The vocals here are telling; it’s effortlessly stunning, grabbing attention with how easily she achieves something countless others spend years chasing.

There’s a lot of nods and winks to other artists, while Antonoff’s own personality remains hidden. Every track on the album is nicely played and produced, but there’s nothing that really stops you in your tracks.

An album that consolidates and enhances Billie Eilish’s reputation as one of the stellar figures of her generation.

Therapy is a well-balanced record that plays to Anne-Marie’s strengths, complete with glossy production and hooks to keep the avid pop fan humming.

It’s the album that disproves the myth of the ‘Mercury Prize Curse’ and also consolidates Dave’s reputation as one of this country’s most important and impressive young artists.

Halfway through a song like Blouse (think Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young but resolutely uncatchy) this reviewer begins to yearn for the Clairo that worked with Danny L Harle and Mura Masa, though Sling is an album that at least works on its own terms.

It Won’t Always Be Like This has its moments that suggest something promising is within their reach.

It might be damning with faint praise, but Hotel Surrender would suggest that Murphy is at his best in shallow artistic waters, and ventures further out at his peril.

Their fluctuating randomness trails away from scattered innovation and colourful variances in pitch and tone to become interchangeable noise. Without sufficiently varying their distinctive sound, they still serve a herbal tonic for the senses, even if there’s a decidedly bland aftertaste this time. Still, at least there are some nice vinyl options to put away on the shelf.

Vince Staples is a worthy continuation of his oeuvre, and proof if it were needed that his paradox of youthful energy and world-weary cynicism remains as captivating as ever.

Like many of their peers and contemporaries from Bill Callahan to Superchunk, the thrill with a new Mountain Goats record is just how similar it’ll be to your favourite thing they’ve done in the past. And this is, well, pretty close to your favourite (whatever that may be…).

It’s immensely, moreishly listenable. Gillespie and Beth work well as narrators and protagonists. She spritely and unbowed; he simultaneously vengeful and regretful.

At just eight tracks and clocking in at 40 minutes, Former Things is never in any danger of outstaying its welcome. There’s an argument to be had that some variety could improve the record, as there’s a definite template being stuck to. That’s not necessarily a bad thing though – LoneLady’s third album is the sound of an artist expanding her musical horizons and reaping the rewards.

It continues a run of quality that stretches all the way back to her debut.

It is a special piece of work, reaffirming Avery’s position as one of the most consistent and exciting electronic artists at work today. We need to keep him under close observation.

Home Video is also Dacus’ most immediate, accessible album to date. While the general tone is quite downbeat, but she can switch to crunchy power-pop on tracks like Hot & Heavy and First Time.

On the whole this is a significant artistic leap, a progressive album of dazzling stylistic pluralities that demands attention.

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.

Preacher’s Sigh & Potion finds Dear mostly content with spinning his wheels, but luckily his unique style and vocal delivery make it an enjoyable spinning.

Boy From Michigan is not an easy album to get to grips with, nor is it one for background listening. For those willing to put the work in, this is another invigorating missive from one of music’s finest minds.

Pedestrian isn’t going to grab you by the throat or rip up trees, being both pedestrian in name and largely in nature too. But don’t let that put you off; the pace may be rather ‘foot off the gas’ but its subtlety is endearing, as is the vulnerability displayed by Bloom’s vocals.

No alarms, no surprises (unless you count a few surprising moves into bossa nova), but it does make for a lovely listen.

Present Tense is yet another unusually powerful invitation to savour a few abominable maledictions by these wicked vagabonds.

Electronic Music Improvisations Vol. 1 does what it says on the tin, but transcends curio status through Miller and Jones’ unique musicality and verve.

This is a quiet album, simmering with authenticity and potential.

A deep, meaningful and purposefully intimate rock ‘n’ roll record. But what sets this apart from the other LN&POTR albums is that is doesn’t borrow from the past so much as showcase their own strain of cosmic heartland rock.

Concise and defined, the 10 tracks here distill Marina’s thoughts on modern day society and all its horrors into a short, sharp shock. ... If there’s anything the album lacks though it’s some of the knowing playfulness of her previous work.

The production, by Foy herself together with Harry Fausing Smith, is perfectly judged, coating these songs in a warm yet otherworldly air. It’s unlikely that you’ll hear a collection of songs so striking and attention-grabbing. And, as impressive as this debut album is, the most exciting thing about it is that it hints at even greater things to come.

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.

Soberish marks the welcome return of an artist at last comfortable with her legacy and ready to celebrate it.

This album certainly is a rush, and it’s also the best Japanese Breakfast album to date.

Blue Weekend is Wolf Alice’s best work yet – a confident, euphoric, blistering 40 minutes that’s guaranteed to be on many people’s ‘best of’ lists at the end of the year.

Man Made suffers from too much material, not enough editorial oversight, and not nearly enough inspired composition.

Dreamers Are Waiting is a very welcome return for a band who have been away for far too long.

This is another instalment of quietly intriguing music, ornate and intricate, but also organic and alive. It’s good to inhabit her world once again.

Even at its most introspective, All The Colours Of You is an often invigorating return from a band who, despite their veteran status, still have their collective finger on the pulse.

Blackberry Smoke are the ultimate antidote to bad vibes, and You Hear Georgia is more than just escapist fun, it’s a superb record.

Clara is a supremely accomplished record, and deserves to sit with previous career highlights like Submers and Monument Builders as a masterclass in abstract electronica.

Reprise offers a pleasant, even graceful but ultimately insubstantial retrospective of an artist who can be fascinating when he’s not overly focused on his pleasant, insubstantial brand.

This music is less underplayed than a confident expression of mid-life experience.

Numan’s consistency is also his biggest downfall. There’s simply no reason to listen to Intruder if you’ve heard any of the albums he’s released in the past decade, because it’s virtually identical to his previous works.

While there may not be anything to rival their breakout hit The Night We Met for ubiquity, much of the band’s fourth album sounds like the sort of warm hug that many people are desperately searching out for right now.

Skellig is a searching piece of work. Beautifully constructed, it is at times uncomfortably sparse and weather-beaten, but its resilient head remains unbowed at the end. As an image of humanity through and after the pandemic it comes into clear focus, providing solace for those who need it too.

Seeking New Gods is simultaneously thought provoking, questioning, elegant and unsettled – but it is fundamentally a feelgood album. We find Gruff Rhys at his most natural, his winning blend of a slight, endearing shyness balanced by extrovert, psychedelic tendencies.

Shining a searchlight on new terrains for themselves, Fly Pan Am have generously quenched our insatiable appetite for revealing non linear melodramas. Causing a staggering commotion, this sometimes inscrutable, yet eminently danceable, album is a passport to uncover alien customs and engage in orgiastic corporeal activities.

It all adds up to another fascinating entry in the ever-evolving Lambchop spectrum, all slow texture, repurposed approaches and augmented familiarity. Showtunes then, but for an alternative world where unhurried immersion and quiet advancement are key.

The Power Of Rocks is a deceptively calm affair, so feel free to roll up your jeans and wade in. Just brace yourself for how crisp and punchy you might find it initially, because it takes a while to get acclimatised. But once you are, you’ll want to dive down to its murkiest depths.

If Afrique Victime tells us anything, it’s that Mdou Moctar’s fire and passion are drawn from his homeland. The results are staggering.

Big | Brave’s music doesn’t feel in the slightest contrived. This is rock music, for want of a less reductive term, at its exhilarating and imaginative best. In Vital they have created something you can’t quite grasp or capture, yet the invitation to attempt it is all too persuasive.

Black To The Future is both musically and thematically bold and important. It is a major statement contextualising the present, aiming to better understand the past and, hopefully, providing a provocation for a better future.

Rarely straying into alien territory, the Dunedin quintet remains as restless and decorous as ever on Scatterbrain, proving that even the unsteadiest of minds can achieve greatness again and again.

Never content to hinge on traditional modalities, this surprisingly resilient and provocative collection reveals how Allen and friends triumphed against social barbarism and cosmopolitan functionality. As the title succinctly attests, there was seemingly no end to the late musician’s skill, and thankfully no end to the legacy he created for others to benefit from.

Even though it has some misfires, this album is still understatedly fun, driven by a pure zest for blues music that is impossible to shy away from.

Weller could easily be forgiven for just living off that immense back catalogue. Instead, he’s relishing that elder statesman role and striving forward. He may not be the angry young man of the past, but his fire is still burning bright.

Kennedy's eclecticism becomes its charm. [Jun 2021, p.86]

Daddy’s Home may lack the more exhilarating, guitar-shredding moments of some of Clark’s earlier work, but it’s possibly her best, most considered album to date. Six albums into her career, St Vincent is arguably becoming the defining artist of her generation.

Deploying ominous cinematic pacing and diaphanous harmonics, the transient Kaminari effectively incorporates an illustrative quality reminiscent of Cocteau Twins‘ Liz Frazer, before the Montreal musicians revert back into classic rockabilly mode and on the voyeuristic shuffle of Sarabande, they fixate on the more gonzo hallucinatory aspects of tropicalia and Turkish psych rock.

Exploring increasingly adventurous songwriting terrains and expanding their studio capabilities whilst managing to retain some of the fire that once sparked up their engines, Iceage have delivered another tour de force.

Despite these quibbles, there’s a definite sense on Life By Misadventure of a major step up from Human. It’s a conscious move to move Rag’n’Bone Man up to the level of the likes of Michael Kiwanuka and Ray LaMontagne – if he carries on at this trajectory, he’ll have a career to rival them both.

No longer clogged with the skyrocketing phosphorescent noise of yore, Growing’s agile and insular sound has permeated into a fugitive multidimensional fog, more muted than clamorous and constantly adrift on the faintest of prayers.

Coral Island is an ambitious record that never topples under the weight of that ambition. Unusually for a double album there’s barely any filler and the songs have a timeless quality that keeps you returning. At the end of their second decade, The Coral have released the best album of their career.

Vynehall’s potential has always been apparent, but Rare, Forever is a truly beguiling record – equal parts poignant and hedonistic – which allows his vast array of talents to shine.

Faithfull’s warm gravelly tone imparts a real fullness to each one. Sonorous and calmly delivered, it’s indeed a surprising joy to let the words wrap around you. A large part of that gratification comes from Ellis’s charismatic score. Unobtrusive to the point of almost being fictional, piano keys are soothingly caressed with the slightest of touch, violins tremble thriftlessly and the watercoloured melodies all but turn to vapour.

There’s also enough evidence that If I Can Make It Go Quiet could easily cross over to become a big mainstream pop album. This is a record that signals the arrival of a major new talent.

Beneath the corny flamboyance and exaggerated phrasing lies an album of killer tunes that may be mannered to within an inch of its life, but are crammed full of wit and bravado.

Endless Arcade might be an album of recalibration and evolution, but it’s also one that more than holds its own against the lofty peaks scaled earlier in their career.

Brash, poetic, and romantically obtuse, even from the grave Alan Vega is as challenging as he is charming.

The stronger of the two records by a clear mile, it breaks away from Sword’s definition of drone to incorporate clear distinctions in its abrasive mise-en-scène.

It pays to listen to the originals, to form a full appreciation of just how much Jones brings to the table in each interpretation, expressing more emotion than he probably has at any point in his career. The instrumentation is the icing on the cake.