In Perfect View, Lust For Youth have immersed fuzzed-up ’80s synthpop in an unnerving ambience, infused the whole thing with shades of house and come up with an album that’s a challenge, but a completely mesmerising one.

For a guy who nails the ’60s and ’90s indie pop sound so well, he didn’t do quite enough research; at least not enough to make an individual statement that’s unique and captivating for the rest of us.



A Productive Cough is not a bad album, but it’s not Titus Andronicus’ greatest moment. Part of the problem comes from the high expectations set by the band’s previous work, and to some degree the drawn out jam sections that occasionally go on just a little too long.

Work is by no means a bad album; it's just a disappointing one. For all their early promise, the band have made a record that reflects its title and monochrome artwork all too literally.

2:54 is deep and dramatic, taut and poised. It stands up to repeat listens with a unperturbed grace and a wonderful habit of showing you something new and unheard each time.

It's a frustrating listen, ultimately. There's enough promise here to suggest a band full of potential, but you get the feeling that they won't be breaking out of that cult status anytime soon.

A welcoming listen, it begs for repeated plays, each time opening itself up further.

All in, this is a welcome return.

Judging by Rose Windows’ now final album, the shame is that differences, whatever they were, could not be overcome because a growing, developing collection of musicians was just beginning to dent the consciousness of a much larger audience. Instead of eagerly anticipating their next move, we are therefore left to cling to their last hurrah.

There’s far more good to be found on Red Flag than there is bad--this feels like the genuine follow-up to Saints And Sinners that Studio 1 should have been.

At times Drums Between The Bells is too busy, too packed with musical style and incident, but its patchwork nature reveals itself over subsequent listens to be a largely rewarding one.

This album’s seeming eschewal of depth and nuance of meaning leaves it feeling ultimately hollow.

Some may find Tuttle’s hushed vocals a bit too insubstantial to last over the course of a whole album, and others may be turned off by all the psych trimmings. Yet fans of MMOSS will find much to satiate any need for a new fix and there’s enough evidence on this debut to suggest that Tuttle could well start to emulate those he holds in thrall, given time.

The Ghost Who Walks is by no means a poor album. There are lovely moments littered throughout and for the most part Elson is a convincing performer. Having said that, it's not an album that lives on in the memory, and the feeling that you've heard much of it before is hard to shake.

This is a creditable follow-up from a band re-establishing and confirming their status as one of UK music's more enjoyable and innovative bunch of eccentrics.

From start to finish this is an album that possesses an alluring pull. Even when things are starting to sound a little sinister, the perfect guitar work, woozy vocals and hazy ambience that Tall Firs create is hard to ignore.

It manages to stay true to the band's short-form indie excitement whilst also revealing further virtues well into repeat spins.

The results of The Place We Ran From are ultimately pretty mixed. To start with the positives, it is a lot of better than expected and there are some genuinely decent pieces of songwriting. However, to enjoy those you have to wade through a thick fog of filler that either doesn't really go anywhere or just doesn't connect.

Ultimately, this is a nice, pleasant debut album which will make the perfect accompaniment to a fair few summer barbecues this year, but which may not be listened to much once the grey skies and dark nights of October are upon us.

It's an album that is perfectly inoffensive, but in the end, there is nothing here that hasn't been done before--and done much better.

There’s no pretense, no illusion. This is two best buds having a rollicking good time.

His potential is audible, his aggressive performance on Name being a great example, but Errol is hopefully a stepping stone to a more actualised sound.

Sometimes the music is too comfortable for such strife, but there is more than enough here to satisfy. The voice still sounds great, too.

Odludek is a mixed bag, then. But it’s to Goodwin’s credit that the bravery he shows in trying to pull so much into one album is more often than not worthwhile.

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

Crawling Up The Stairs is a very fine follow up that sees them once again exploring the inner workings of their souls and collective psyche with often beautiful results.

Go Away White is an unevenly inspired valediction.

There is nothing on this record that is going to convert the previously disinterested. But although Ounsworth is still yet to return to the high watermark of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s first record, he has produced his most affecting work since then.