If Deacon wasn't a force to be reckoned with before, then by gum, he is now.

As an album it is of questionable value, but its ambitions are much bigger than the album form.

Overall Gibb has invited us on an entertaining jaunt through the musical traditions of rural Canada.

The middle of the album is weaker, with Cupola Smelt Mill’s coda being far more interesting than the rest of the track and Slack Sley & Temple’s arrangement so bare that it starts to feel like a mind-numbing endurance test.

It’s a stately and urgent reclamation of intent from all involved. If you expected a band with such a long and storied history to ever be elegiac or pedestrian that would be a grave misstep. Under Marshall Allen’s all seeing eye, they’ve untethered themselves from the oppressive gravity of their past and launched themselves head first off back into the furthest reaches of outer space from whence they first came.

Loftin and his colleagues have succeeded in creating a mood of joy and togetherness.

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.

Joan Of All isn’t an immediate album, and it’s probably not one to reach for a sugary pick-me-up either. Yet if you dedicate enough time to it, what emerges is a work of rare depth, craftsmanship and beauty.

Sometimes, it doesn’t quite hit the mark – the finger-picked acoustics of Preaching To The Choir becomes a bit of a dirge, while Clean feels like it’s about to explode into something epic, but never quite does. Yet the closing The Wind makes for a lovely end to the album (with Butler on surprisingly gruff vocals) and, at only nine tracks long, it never particularly outstays its welcome. It’s also a handy reminder that one of rock’s finest collaborators has a pretty strong voice of his own, too.

All Living Things shows how Jiha is able to navigate the border between the experimental and the accessible with confidence and deftness, its woozy textures and spectral aesthetics making for an engaging listening experience.

Henson has subtly evolved rather than reinvented his sound, and it’s resulted in one of his finest albums to date.

What is most startling... is the amount of emotional depth that Turner's injected into his songs here.

It may be true that Oh No doesn’t quite match the mystery or depth of her debut--it’s all very transparent and above the surface in comparison--but it offers enough proof that the overt, more soulful qualities demonstrated on this album should serve her well for some time yet.

Now Only occasionally treads a fine line between soul bearing catharsis and a vividness so acute it feels disconcertingly intrusive.

The faithful will lap up every eccentric note, of course, but there's much here for the uninitiated to delight in as well.

A 1000 Times is an opening track as startling as it is oddly timeless, and if, when it debuted in July, it promised great things of this pairing, the resulting album certainly delivers.

This is an intelligent and deeply human album and it would be no exaggeration to say that it’s already a modern classic.

The guitar sounds throughout Salad Days are pristine, the lyrics sublime and the vocals... the Lennon-isms are often befuddling but they can only be applauded.

With Radical Romantics we see a distinct shift away from the idea of linear songs, and rapidly towards a 360 soundscape – all encompassing, visceral and beautifully overwhelming.

The occasional overlong segment of a song (The Battle Of Hampton Roads) and self-pitying tone and vocal that skate a little close to "emo" (No Future Part Three...) are really the only complaints that can be levelled. This very American, sometimes Irish-American sounding album, funny, occasionally scabrous, occasionally angry but most often simply passionate, is one of the smartest and most intelligent punk releases in a while, and one of the most enjoyable too.

It’s an album rich in ideas and confidence, and will only cement The Last Dinner Party’s status as one of Britain’s most exciting new bands.

In The Lookout, Veirs has done what she does best. Instantly recognisable and comforting, she opens her personal world up as safe haven in these strange and noisy times, whilst still keeping you at arm’s length, listening for secrets.

Coping Mechanism is full of feisty attitude, blaring guitars and rhythmically intense drumming, and sees Willow positioning herself as the edgier Olivia Rodrigo with mixed results.

Wide Awake is certainly not their best, but it is their most wide ranging and as such, it could just be one that splits the hardcore fanbase right down the middle.

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.

Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is a slender, fat-free affair, all Gallic swerve and subtle swagger. This may well be the album to broaden their fan-base wider then the fashionable glitterati.

There’s a massive amount of power and feeling in the music but perhaps even more of an impact is in the feeling of expressionism and freedom that it represents. In forcing herself to look at who she is as an artist and explore new ways of creating Zola Jesus has firmly taken back her power and forged a new way forward out of the darkness.

The music on Field Of Reeds is certainly not easily accessible but, at its heart, this is a supremely evocative album.

It's reminiscent at times to what pal and label stablemate Will Oldham did on Bonnie "Prince" Billy Sings Greatest Palace Music.

Heartleap benefits from some subtle, unexpected instrumentation, including kalimba and vibraphone butalthough it does include contributions from her touring band (including the great guitarist Gareth Dickson), it still feels personal to the point of being solitary.

This new, untitled beast is another step to Rammstein finally being acknowledged as being the best heavy metal band in the world, and one of the best hard rock acts of all time.

It all makes for a captivating listen or a dreamy forty minutes, whatever your preference - though a possible failing can be found in only occasional glimpses of the human soul.

International is the trio’s ideal signing off point. It is both uplifting and reflective, leaving the contrasting emotions of a lump in the throat and a smile on the face. Everything they’ve ever done, in a nutshell.

It doesn’t quite always work, but it is a promising reinvention.

It may not quite reach some of the highs (or lows) of its predecessor but it more than compensates in both its consistency and variety. It offers proof that stories of stagnation and decline in everyday life can still conversely inspire music of great value and beauty.


With Animals might be a predominantly bleak work, but within its crumbling walls of decay, there’s considerable beauty to be found.

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.

You can almost feel the wind and rain outside, and this adds to the mixture of melancholia and euphoria throughout, the latter realised most obviously on 'Waving Flags.' And that's the spirit that runs through this fine album, staying with the listener long after the final stanzas of 'We Close Our Eyes' bring it full circle.

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.

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.

From the minute Unpopular Parts Of A Pig kicks into gear, there is no doubt that this is Mclusky. With its scratchy guitar riffs, thunderous bass, all driven by Egglestone’s pounding drums, it’s as if the last 20 years have just disappeared in a puff of smoke.

For all Fagen's obsession with precision, this still feels like a remarkably relaxed, quietly confident album--sleek, urbane and sophisticated.

Tune-Yards are always going to be an acquired taste for some people, and while this album mixes the accessible with the avant-garde, there will probably be people who are left cold by the restless energy and sometimes overtly meandering melodies. There are more than enough moments on Sketchy though to show that Garbus and Bremmer can strike musical gold when they want to.

The full listening experience is perplexing, intriguing, sometimes perhaps infuriating, but rarely less than intoxicating.

Words And Music isn't just a celebration of popular music, but a hymnal ode to a loss of innocence, an end to the passions of our childhood.

As has frequently been the case with later Yo La Tengo albums, the surface appearance of this music is deceptively simple. Delve beneath it, and the artistry that has fuelled the group for three decades gradually reveals itself.

Some earlier fans of Obel may miss the more minimal sound of her early albums, and there’s certainly no big crossover track that will propel Obel to the mainstream. This is a haunting listen though, and one that will provide suitable company as the long winter nights start to draw in.

They may never reach the heights of 20 years ago but England Is A Garden shows them to have reached a level of reliability, consistency and competence that many other bands would gladly take.

Going by the quality of Tourist In This Town, there’ll be an awful lot more people loving Allison Crutchfield pretty soon.

The fondness for schmaltz gets a bit overwhelming, and the album is only great in patches.

The Car, the band’s seventh album (and is the exact same length as their second album Favourite Worst Nightmare to the second) is another step further into the cinematic world they created on Tranquility Base. ... This band have continuously captivating for nearly two decades now, and Alex Turner must be a generational talent. So clearly this is a great album.

Whilst it’s good to see another side to the band, it’s the sheer spiky pleasure of their more direct moments that stand out.

This might well be American Football’s finest moment to date. It’s certainly not an easy listen; at times it’s harrowing, emotionally ambiguous and petulant. But sometimes you need to reach hell in order to create something truly significant.

There’s not much on this album which will raise the eyebrows of anyone familiar with their previous work, as it falls somewhere between the fuzzy glow of 1993’s Souvlaki and the dispassionate chill of its follow-up Pygmalion. But Everything Is Alive is joyful listen regardless, taking the cloud tunnel bliss of the best shoegaze and adding some pure pop pleasure. Cinema for the ears? More like dream visions for the soul.

In places almost carnivalesque, this is a good times album that celebrates positive aspects of the world.

They’re looking forward, stepping outside of their comfort zone and creating some of the most interesting, ambitious music of their long career.

It’s their shortest album to date – just eight tracks, with a little over 30 minutes for a running time – and, as with Mosquito, there’s less emphasis on Zinner’s incendiary solos now, in favour of a smoother, synth led sheen. When it kicks into gear though, they still sound magnificent.

The Seldom Seen Kid keeps the band on this upward trajectory.

Undoubtedly it's a very effective dance record, and in a club everything here would sound great. As an album, though, HEALTH//DISCO is encumbered by the very tracks that have birthed it.

The music they weave always, without fail, stays just the right side of pretentious, playing with past conventions and current trends, showing how clever they are without showing off.

Whilst Star Treatment might funnel a lot of influences into its carefully woven songs, it is still a fiercely idiosyncratic work.

The simplicity of the music here makes it a perfect entry-point for ambient fans who got into the genre through Max Richter‘s Sleep playlist. But it also makes it a perfect moving-on moment in the band’s career.

Weller has found an ideal blend of experience and a quest for more that provides for an optimistic album for an English summer.

The album does not disappoint; on the contrary, it’s unbelievably good. Sporting sharp vocals, compelling riffs and potent lyrics, this is a stellar release.

When all is said and done, Ask That God is the Empire Of The Sun album you would want to hear at this point. It is Nick Littlemore and Luke Steele finding their familiar chemistry, doing what they do best, and providing sun kissed pop that we can sing and dance to, pure escapism when we need it most.

Sogolo is the sound of a band still developing and exploring, and that they’re still making such vital and interesting music at this point can only be saluted.

Circa Waves do what they do very well. And ultimately both volumes of Death & Love do a decent job at documenting an undoubtably traumatic time in Circa Waves’ lives.

From bow to stern The Chicks take us on a musical boat ride, with infectious top lines you’ll be humming long after the album has ended – just make sure you don’t leave your tights.

With Wild Mountain Nation they present a raucous and varied constellation of souvenirs, rough-hewn but lush, crackling with a weird and lucid energy.

Whereas his debut self-titled album was a perfectly serviceable slice of alt-country, it wasn’t really distinctive enough to stand ahead of the pack. That’s all changed with Make Way For Love which, at times, contains some of the heartbreakingly beautiful songs you’ll hear all year.

A record which is dense, musically adventurous and arguably one of the more important albums to be released this year. It’s also a record that proves that there’s more to the trio than tabloid outrage and overblown headlines.

This is easily the most satisfying and rewarding set of songs that Cox has written in any of his projects and it'll be a tough ask to top it.

Whether this is Shearwater’s finest album is debatable; some fans may still miss the more rustic, hushed and unpolished vibe of 2006’s Palo Santo. Undoubtedly, though, it’s a record of confidence and passion, fronted by a man with plenty to say.

It’s a towering achievement, building on what has come before while expanding it in astonishing ways. This is undoubtedly one of the best albums of the year.

Whether stark and menacing, grief-laden or simply plain daft, Lodestar is a triumph of storytelling and sound.

Japan would go on to at least one better album than Quiet Life, but they would never again capture the same kind of nervous youthful energy they display here. An essential album from an essential band.

Poignant, lush and beautifully played, this is another predictably wonderful record from The Antlers.

This is a record that has finally seen the light of day after a bitter dispute between the band and their label. That something so beautiful and politically charged can emerge from the embers of conflict can only be a positive thing.

This is an album comfortably on a par with the work of most of the younger artists they’ve influenced; compelling proof that the original shoegazers have stood the test of time remarkably well.

A neat album of only 10 tracks. We find her in life-admin mode, clearing out any dispensable trash that she no longer has time or the inclination for. ... Sublime.

Field Report’s debut maintains a wondrous sense of ambiguity while still creating an unbelievable urgency.

Unfollow The Rules – the album title was inspired by a phrase used by Wainwright’s daughter – is worth the wait, and across the 12 songs here, we experience some of the finest moments of his career to date.

A truly excellent rock record.

Julianna Barwick is crafting gorgeously effecting sounds in a way that nobody has quite heard before, far beyond the snickering Enya comparisons or the reductive ties to Eno's ambience, this isn't music for thinking or studying, this is just music for living.

This is a taut, epic and well-rounded piece, dripping in atmosphere.

For the inexperienced deterred by Fela's 30 minute jams, Seun Kuti offers a more digestible approach to the afrobeat form, without sacrificing any of the clarity and energy of the original brand. For the already initiated, it's a crisper, more modern approach--unlikely to offer much that is truly new or unexpected, but insanely inspiring nonetheless.

Wilderness Of Mirrors provides satisfying proof that there is still plenty of value, purpose and life left at the margins.

Me is a brilliantly confident album that fulfills--and builds upon--Rodriguez’s early promise. Recommended.

An emotionally raw and thrilling pop record (because it is a pop record, despite its rock sensibilities). After a series of downs that would finish most bands, Get Tragic sounds like a new start for its creators.

[Midsection] is a rare bum note in a record that’s packed with goodies and effortlessly cool.

With Struggler Genesis Owusu has followed through on his potential, and hopefully won’t be getting the boot from listeners anytime soon.

Still heavy, still personal, but with the support in place. There’s something generous about it. That matters, especially in a genre so easily pulled into nostalgia as shoegaze.

A vacuum that sucks you in and dumps you among the dust you tried to sweep away. And from the dunes of that dust emerge a band well in their stride.

If John Grant never feels the need to write his memoirs, it’ll be because they’ve been played out for us over the course of these three brutally frank, flawed but ultimately human albums. Never less than enjoyable, the next chapter is bound to be worth the wait.

Perhaps if each song were half the length, the fun, easy-listening element to PBJ's music would be more clear-cut. As it is, Writer's Block proves a real struggle.

It is this contrast between the mundanity of the everyday life, personal vanities and dissatisfactions of a bunch of self-styled "young adults" and the terrific roar and hyperbole of their dirty, dark riff-laden music that provides the neat twist in Pissed Jeans' tail and gives this album its extra frisson.

This collection of songs have no problems with originality (redundancy isn't an issue) but it never escapes its aged disposition.

Callahan emerges from the album with his reputation further enhanced, his artistic trajectory unbroken.