A record that's every bit the sonic departure it had to be, it nevertheless recalls its forebear's themes, seeing matters of the heart from a more reflective stance.

Adventurous, forward-looking and luxurious, all at the same time.

Even when easing off the throttle, The Warlocks find ways to blow your mind. [10 Sep 2005, p.66]

Bloodsports finally provides the send-off Suede’s legacy deserved 10 years ago. And, fittingly, it’s due to them thumbing their noses at the notion of growing old gracefully, and making brilliantly daft pop music instead.

On the laidback, spaced-out strength of A New Tide, they’re still as pleasantly beguiling as they were 11 years ago.

Producer Mark Ronson does an astounding job of taking them back to the Fab Five glory days of Rio.

White Denim (now a four-piece) have never been less than terrific, but as they move further from the garage and embrace their real love – early '70s Americana – they defy all probability.

Not be the most inspiring stuff, perhaps, but it is bloody good fun.

This one whips the spliced, spooked melodies and vintage rhythms of Blood into new, distorted shapes that at times recall the dark textures of Prurient's 'Bermuda Drain' or Fever Ray's debut.

In short, there's lo-fi, and then there's this album.

The album had to happen, and for a band that are now ostensibly a touring entity, the measure of its songs is whether you’d want to hear them being played at, say, Field Day this summer. Slipped between their classics, they’ll do just fine.

The result is not unlike Lana Del Rey, but with fun instead of fatalistic gloom.

A record that rather makes one want to have sex. [24 Sep 2005, p.47]

At its best, 'A New Morning' sees Suede show off their vulnerable side again. It won't attract any new admirers but old fans will love them more for it.

Romancing is full of brash, exciting music that's as fun as doing The Big Shop with headphones in.

Will... have you oiling your joints and gearing up for a bit of robobooty gyration. [21 Jan 2006, p.33]

Home Again provides a sumptuously soft place for tired ears to rest.

Perhaps it's the introduction of an outside producer (Per Sunding) for the first time, but they're sounding like a band with something to prove.

Its indie innocence would be too much if it wasn't for the darkened, Lynchian hum that hangs over the record

It's an album that leaves you in no doubt that Odd Future's leader is a rare talent.

Their debut album proper quivers and quakes with the cinematic electronics and emotional abandonment of a soundtrack to Armageddon.

While there are bands who share common ground with Outfit--These New Puritans, Hot Chip, Junior Boys--the appealing niche they’re easing into bodes very well for album three.

Pretty. Odd. is a victory for artistic ambition over cynical careerism, and we should all rejoice in their decision to follow their instincts as opposed to their instructions and actually do something different.

Little Joy might not quite have built a castle in the sky, but they’ve constructed a cosy little corner in our hearts.

‘Say It’ recalls the airy refreshment of Vampire Weekend’s ‘Contra’ and the garage-pop fun of Jonathan Richman’s ‘Rock’N’Roll With The Modern Lovers’.

A glossy, well-produced album of populist anthems with a gangsta undertow that expands his worldview and celebrates success.

It sounds like almost exactly the same record, just not as slap-in-the-face fresh. Still, if it’s more of the same, at least the same is pretty good.

An album of gloomy, almost gothic techno splendour. Beneath its typically sleek, urbane deep house grooves, it beats nervously with foreboding, fear and loathing for humanity as a whole.