It's like 'Pet Sounds' born and raised in the Bronx. [26 Mar 2005, p.51]

Encasing the malaise and drudgery of the last two years and preserving them in dark grey ash, ‘Pompeii’ captures a distinct sense of isolation without explicitly spelling it out. There’s much to excavate here.

Inevitably, when the Prozac finally wears off the more 'thoughtful' numbers fall flat on their faces. [20 Aug 2005, p.58]

This time round, the humour is more subtle but the observations on life, and increasingly death, are no less keen.

What this collection of songs from his mid-'90s creative purple patch shows is that few people in recent times have done sadness so exquisitely.

The blurred lines are kinda the point and half the fun. But now The Moonlandingz have turned fiction into semi-reality by making their debut album... and it’s brilliant.

Ultimately, what these songs leave is a feeling that, for all the album’s brilliant shine, experimenting with darker styles might not go amiss for what’s next.

It’s compelling and moving songwriting that manages to depict all of life’s complexities, Canal spinning raw emotion into beautifully crafted songs.

A swaggering display of confidence by a band in total command of their craft, ‘Tsunami Sea’ is solid-as-granite proof that heavy music retains its vitality and relevancy in 2025. The punishing elegance of Spiritbox’s new album will punch a hole through your chest and wrap its aqueous arms around your heart.

The mental processes, emotions, and reflections that have defined a transformative period, and the years that preceded it, all come to life here.

Every bit as stark, foreboding, but utterly singular as 'Tilt'. [6 May 2006, p.33]

Davidson’s Working Class Woman is smart, intriguing and deserves to be heralded as one of the year’s most inventive releases--Lord knows she’s worked hard enough for it.

Their most intriguing, beautiful and dazzling record to date.

'Source Tags And Codes' comes with an albatross-like weight of expectation round its skinny neck - yet happily, it's supported by a band who have grown to match it.

If you really want a definitive collection of Ice-T's work, go and buy his albums 'Power' (1988) and 'OG - Original Gangster' (1991). This is not to criticise this greatest hits package, which, technically, does a decent job of presenting an overview of his illustrious career. However, when you have an artist like Ice, with such an impressive body of work, you have to come with more than 17 tracks.

‘Model Citizen’ is the work of a band who are absolutely for the now. Mom, this pop-punk thing definitely isn’t just a phase.

It all adds up to the most serene, stylistically varied album Marling has ever created.

Smother is deeply sad and lonely, but still a barbed invitation to intimacy; like Coleridge's albatross, an extraordinarily elegant, stunning, (near)-perfect portrait of how terribly bad decisions can turn out.

It’s unlikely that you’ll often listen to it in one bout, but whether beguiled one day by its exotic petals and blooms or the next by the less showy trees in the background, Have One On Me is an Elysian record that you’ll return to again and again.

Opener ‘Shots Fired’ is a signal that Megan is not messing around. ... Yet it’s not long before she returns to the salacious songs that we all love Megan Thee Stallion for. ... For all the sex positivity and club-ready anthems, though, there are glimpses of that tone was first introduced with ‘Shots Fired.’

In ‘Seeking New Gods’, Gruff Rhys has yet again crafted another pop gem of an album.

This record offers a maelstrom of mistakes and confusion and glee and love and loneliness and hope – and the mess of it all makes for the biggest gift.

Curry flexes his ability to flow and rhyme meticulously lines that explode your mind, his gruff delivery similar to that of RZA or even Busta Rhymes.

This is a Suede record, so there are moments of aching majesty – see the tormented ‘It’s Always The Quiet Ones’, ‘Turn Off Your Brain And Yell’ and the hopelessly devoted ‘What Am I Without You’ (which sees Anderson giving himself to his fans) – but, all in all, ‘Autofiction’ finds the indie greats getting back in the garage to make a racket.

For those patient enough to wait for this record to relinquish its quiet delights, the treasures waiting to be discovered it are rich indeed.

Two years ago, such a mis-match of styles usually resulted in dizzying chaos for the duo, here it’s inventive and enjoyable as they capture teenage life with devastating precision.

An honest, innovative collection that bolsters her reputation as a stellar songwriter, Yanya “undiluted” makes for an absorbing listen.

The fight for a better Ireland deserves songs that mirror the depth of the crisis, and in its endlessly captivating glory, ‘Skinty Fia’ rises triumphantly to the task.

The ore of modern Pitchfork rock is here, laid out in all its flawed-diamond beauty. For a canon so flagrant in its faults, Quarantine is all-but faultless.

The 2009 Projectors have adopted a more enjoyable model, thanks in part to Longstreth holding back that horn.

Like all the great British pop records of the past five years, Devotion combines the present and the past to make a record that sounds both contemporary and timeless.

A record filled with such emotional scope and range that it's tailor-made to showcase Lanegan's world weary roar. [24 Jul 2004, p.47]

Fender’s effortlessly direct lyrics are the anchor that uphold him as a heavyweight within Britain’s indie rock scene. The closing tracks of the album – ‘TV Dinner’, ‘Something Heavy’ and ‘Remember My Name’, on which he is joined by Easington Colliery Band – see him reaching upwards with new sonic ambitions.

A joyous, celestial celebration of sound.

Journal For Plague Lovers is an outstanding album in its own right and is not "The Holy Bible." But then again, what is?

Belying its also-ran billing, Darkest Before Dawn... is a minor masterpiece of dark, smart, modern hip-hop.

Fittingly, the emotional alchemy that Opeth muster on album number 13 is a sonic brew that could sedate a herd of buffalo.

This is Yo La tengo on snug autopilot. [2 Sep 2006, p.21]

The Ghost Inside’s self-titled, fifth album is a towering statement of positivity, transforming pain into catharsis, determination and hope.

The vocals are as limber as the glitching, swaying soundscapes and the whole album is a mesmerising listen that constantly surprises.

An album that’s chock-full of bravado, intelligence and, frankly, hits.

The Chemistry Of Common Life finally proves that rather than being a messy gimmick, Fucked Up are a startlingly talented punk rock band.

A record that, when given the requisite time and attention, offers unfathomable depths to explore.

It's full-on rock carnage. [6 Nov 2004, p.59]

A classic of sad pop. [23 Apr 2005, p.51]

As his musical repertoire has expanded from minimalist folk to occasionally playful pop, so has his tolerance for the foibles of the flesh. 'Dongs Of Sevotion', from its silly title to its intermittent flashes of tenderness and humour, is the proof.

The ultimate rare treasure. [24 Sep 2005, p.47]

In every way, ‘Bob Vylan Presents: The Price Of Life’ is a far more eclectic record than anything the duo have released before. Their alt-rock tracks about inequality will speak to a wider audience but the band never soften their edges or pull their punches in a bid for accessibility.

‘The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte’ is a reminder that even now, Sparks are completely content with boldly going first, taking their music into ambitious territory no one else has been before, making it easier for other acts to (hopefully) follow suit.

Almost cinematic in feel, much of The Hold Steady's genius lies in Finn's ability to craft songs that tell stories as wise, textured and three-dimensional as the nearest old oak tree. [13 Jan 2007, p.30]

With ‘Topical Dancer’, they have created an album that works just as well as the soundtrack to a killer house party as it does a necessary act of rebellion against the negative forces in our society.

Viewed in isolation, ‘Heaven’ is a pretty sublime pop-punk record. Its little brother, ‘Hell’, yields more mixed results, continuing the metal-infused sound Sum 41 have veered towards in recent years.

Despite being told over the course of just three tracks, the story of growth and revitalisation that underpins ‘SABLE’ hardly feels rushed.

A powerful piece of work, but one that will leave you with as many questions as it does answers.

Newsom has managed to lessen the twee factor of her last record... in the process crafting an album as bewitching as it is odd.

Many have tried to recreate the vibrancy and laidback groove of vintage soul-pop, but to absolutely nail it you need to be someone truly cosmic. Amy Winehouse just about managed it, and Matthew E White is one other such person.

It’s a bold move for The Coral to come out with something so intricate at this stage of their career, even taking the time to pen an accompanying book. But immerse yourself in this heavily themed epic and you’ll be rewarded with a nostalgic trip that showcases some of their most adventurous writing to date.

‘Please Stay’ is wistful and pretty, but largely forgettable, and the surging indie-rock of ‘First Time’ doesn’t quite hold up against the rest of the record. But for the most part, Dacus proves that looking back at your past might make you cringe, but there is beauty and value in those faltering, gawky days.

An album of reinfatuation and reaffirmation, ‘Fossora’ is invigorating in its drive, if there’s little of real surprise here; hard as the mushroom-gabber beats are, if you’ve heard Pluto or Mutual Core, you won’t be shocked.

A naggingly problematic record, with a void at its heart that no amount of cool celebrity mates can quite conceal.

‘Multitudes’ was written in part during an experimental and communal set of shows Feist put on through 2021 and 2022 by the same name, and 12 poetic tracks that make up ‘Multitudes’ embody the same inventiveness, intimacy and connection of that limited run of performances in the round.

‘Imaginal Disk’ is a zeitgeisty time capsule of anxious post-internet existentialism and the online condition observed through a synthy flower-power lens. Here, Magdalena Bay are underrated pop messiahs at the top of their game.

‘Lonely People with Power’ could perhaps have used a little pruning. For the most part, though, it stands as a testament to the power not just of forging your own lane, but becoming master of it, too.

Rather than try to top their peerless anthems, the band have instead uncovered a new warmth on ‘This Is Why’, and the effect is triumphant indeed.

Virtuosity and accessibility have never been easy bedfellows, but Strange Mercy is one of those rare albums that makes you think and makes you fall in love.

This is the sound of a musician who has worked to forge an entire world, an empire, around himself--we can peer in, but from afar, guessing at his motives and life behind the velvet rope.

Without visuals to add a knowing wink and a flourish of pop absurdity, it sometimes settles into a comfortable groove of trap-influenced drum beats, moody instrumentals, Frank Ocean-y electric guitars and percussive brass peals. Rarely deviating from earnestness, this is at odds with the absurd brilliance of his defining moments thus far.

Few bands could explore motherhood and terrorism without making you want to shoot them: Corin Tucker's electric-shock voice and the adrenal guitars make them as essential pop topics as schoolyard crushes and backstreet drugs.

There’s magic everywhere you look on this triumph of an album.

Green’s studio debut is relentlessly vibrant, an album that writhes and squirms in the eternally unpleasant truth that we are creatures of inconsistency and contradiction.

Goddamn it's taken a while, but with 'High Violet' The National's slow and steady evolution can no longer be ignored. This lot are fully grown-up, coloured in and going overground.

Filled with crunchy, complex tunes that elegantly interweave a host of unusual influences, Miss Universe is an impressive and bold record.

Here, Sivan has created an album that does away with any apology; instead it sees him seize happiness with both hands.

There are no real bangers here, but for once that’s not a disappointment cushioned by wafty ballads. Instead the low-key, moody production throws the spotlight on the words and the images brought to play by Beyonce as serious album artist, encompassing bulimia, post-natal depression, the fears and insecurities of marriage and motherhood, and lots and lots of sex.

His best yet. [3 Sep 2005, p.74]

‘And Then Life Was Beautiful’ truly is a true celebration of R&B, yet – despite its nostalgic nods – Nao has still created a record that doesn’t sound like anyone else. If you need to do a little soul-searching yourself, this soulful record is a good place to start.

Walker has a song here for every feeling following a crushing break-up, from confusion to anger to outright pettiness – and it’s the kind of unwavering quality that we all love her for.

If ‘Folklore’ is an introspective, romantic older sister, ‘Evermore’ is the freewheeling younger sibling. ‘Folklore’ was Swift’s masterful songwriting spun through a very specific sonic palette; ‘Evermore’ feels looser, with more experimentation, charm and musical shades at play. The new album reaps the rewards the stylistic leap of faith that ‘Folklore’ represented, pushing the boundaries of that sonic palette further still.

‘Memento Mori’ is comfortably their best album this side of the millennium, and, most importantly, a testament to creativity and friendship. The music world is richer for it.

It's a set of two halves whose hands won't hold.

On her fourth solo record, Jenny Lewis skewers all of these tensions with astonishing ease. It’s up there with her greatest work to date.

The duo use fun to become fearless, combating fear with every ounce of inner strength they can find. Pageant is the sound of a band truly hitting their stride.

Giggling through the chaos of the past 13 tracks as psychedelic dream-pop fills in the gaps, we can’t help but give in to the cinematic peak of ‘Wor$t Girl In America’, touching us the way all good movies do.

The clarity is chill-wave level rather than that of a tape that had been dropped in a bath, then dried with a hairdryer. And, more importantly, the songs sound better than ever.

The various dark and mechanical intermission tracks on the album make for the most experimental peaks and exciting signposts to the future, but nothing compares to ‘Nihilist Blues’, a robotic and apocalyptic blast of Eurodance featuring guest vocals and mad noises from art-pop icon Grimes.

Sharp pop moments shine brighter than some of the weaker ballads that pad out the lengthy tracklist. Yet ‘The Rise And Fall Of A Midwest Princess’ is a display of Roan’s bold and brazen pen, where she places searing revelations alongside some deliciously cheeky choruses.

Imagine 'Lost Souls' injected with Prozac and a huge dose of weird guitar noises that give you goosebumps from head to toe. That's 'The Last Broadcast'. It's one of those rare albums that makes sense first thing in the morning but you can still yell along to when your head's exploding.

As debut albums go, it's terrific.

Starr assures the listener that they can overcome hardship, too; stringing together a tightly-constructed album where love, pain, and joy exist in tandem.

While the talented singer’s debut album ‘Don’t Let the Kids Win’ was a sort of musical bildungsroman--the sometimes unsure steps of a new artist finding her path--the more assured follow-up is Crushing by name and brilliantly crushing by nature.

It all makes for a moving look at people who changed, transformed, disappeared and faded, but are immortalised on a beautiful record.

It feels like a joyous, slowly unfurling epiphany. It’s a gift to be able to listen in.

It's easily the electronic album of the year, but for all that, it doesn't break particularly new ground. The point more is that what ground is broken is done so with exquisite artistry.

The record – which is equally rewarding to both newcomers and devotees of the genre – nails the transcendental and transportive qualities Thackray aims to showcase.

In aiming to examine the self rather than please others, Fontaines D.C. have exerted a knack for writing anthems that are at once self-excoriating and intimately relatable.

Rather than being owned by their demons, The Twilight Sad have created an 11-track exorcism to master them. It’s a full-bodied and inescapable mood-piece, and a visceral account of their victory in the fight to exist. We should feel grateful to have them.

An album of stunning emotional clarity that sees Baker’s words sent skyward with help from the beefy instrumentation of a full band.

A miniature classic. [14 Aug 2004, p.49]