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]

Drummer/vocalist Brian Chippendale’s delirious sing-song brings notes of fancy to tracks like ‘Dream Genie’, but Lightning Bolt’s aim remains simple: to batter you into ecstatic submission.

This record is a striking reminder of why Shygirl is one of the capital’s brightest talents.

There is great humanity to And Nothing Hurt, a collection of wistful, wounded observations, the work of a person wearied by the world, but no less in love with it for that. There is hope and joy and naivety here, even as Pierce sounds like he’s been kicked in the groin before recording another cracked vocal.

With lyrics that encompass the reality of ageing with all its wisdom and regrets, and with music that employs the deftness of touch that can only come with long-term honing, Arab Strap have delivered their defining record.

As the lovelorn ‘From Far Away’ floats by, desolate and broken, haunted by the ghosts of art-rock guitars and phantom electronics, it’s clear that Jeff Tweedy still isn’t comfortable on well-trodden roads and that Warm has moments that upend Americana as beautifully as ‘Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’ did with US indie rock. One to let simmer.

‘A Matter Of Time’ is just as gorgeous as its predecessors, but this time, there’s more darkness shadowing the gleam.

Rossen is a master craftsman--and one of the best songwriters in modern rock--and with Silent Hour/Golden Mile he's set the bar tantalisingly high for Grizzly Bear's return.

Light Up Gold is one of the best debut albums you'll hear all year.

He sounds similarly out of it on the dreamy-as-hell pair ‘Drunk And On A Star’ (“I’ve gone dizzy, like a ship/ When that water comes into it”) and ‘Ferris Wheel’ (“Well I lose my mind, sometimes”). By the end of this sublime record, you’ll have lost yours too.