American Love Call is a timeless, optimistic listen in a time of peril one that now, and in the future, can confidently be referred to as a truly great American soul record.

‘Born 2 Rap’ isn’t just a library of classic records blended together: it’s a lesson in storytelling, something The Game has never received enough credit for. ... There’s a flawless project somewhere among the album’s 25 tracks, which could certainly do with trimming.

There's two sides to Nedry. One is given to taking faintly voguish reference points, lopping off the sharp edges and smoothing out the kinks. It's pretty, but weirdly bloodless....The other is less polite....Message to the band: ignore your nicer side in future.

This album shows that Pearson isn’t shying away from darker themes. Instead, she guides the listener through new sonic terrains and out into the light.

Working Men’s Club certainly wear the trauma well, but this riveting exploration truly thrives by seeking the light beyond the gloom.

This is the sound of a band at their most confident, capable of still pushing the boundaries they seemingly reimagined years ago without overwhelming audiences with their own love for endless improvisation. There are no lyrics on this album, but it feels like you can hear these three musicians louder than ever.

Sonically, ‘Critical Thinking’ has touches of the European modernist propulsion of 2014 renaissance record ‘Futurology’ and the graceful ABBA pop flourishes of 2021 predecessor ‘The Ultra Vivid Lament’. But its uplifting warmth met with provocative spikiness feels like an album written staring up at the posters of their teenage art-pop and indie heroes – meant for the crackle of a record or the buzz of a cassette.

This LP could have injected some creativity back into 4/4, instead it settles for quaintness.

Combining the band’s slightly sidelined knack for writing huge, immediately memorable pop bangers with the more complex, neurotic lyrical voice of The 1975’s more recent releases, ‘Being Funny In A Foreign Language’ feels like the right next step after pushing experimental excess to its logical conclusion.

Had the stronger songs been contained to an EP it could well have rivalled the extraordinary consistency and thrill of its predecessor – but frustratingly, it falls short.

The Black Keys are clearly determined not to get stuck in any such rut, with ‘Brothers’ marking the midway point between the garage-rock stylings of their first few albums and the hip-hop influence of last year’s Blackroc side-project album.

'Jarvis' never quite gathers an irresistible momentum like his past glories did. There isn't a bad song on here, but there are several which don't fulfil their full potential.

Their debut is a gale-force riot, a virtual tempest of joyous abandon.

If Christopher Nolan ever does one of his gritty makeovers on Twilight, the soundtrack’s as good as sewn up.

While the clipped melodies and eerie tinklings are gently brushing your feet with a feather duster, Margaret Fiedler is fiercely proclaiming, "Something's gotta give/And it sure as hell ain't me" ('T Street') like a mightily pissed-off Edith Piaf.

Their most well-rounded effort yet.

Album of the year? It's definitely a contender. [7 Aug 2004, p.49]

Time will tell how Primary Colours stands up to the likes of "Loveless" or "Psychocandy," but right now, this feels like the British art-rock album we’ve all been waiting for.

It may not bother the charts in quite the same way as ‘Slide’ did, but it’s more than enough to remind us that we should dismiss Takeoff, the solo artist, at our peril.

‘Free I.H.’ is a wild ride of cathartic outpourings, big declarations and the freedom to do whatever they want. Weighed down by the struggle but relishing their victory, it’s a record that offers conflict and comfort.

With little allegiance to one particular sound, expansive love for their heritage and bold statements in each track, ‘Chai’ is a bright declaration from a band forging their own sonic path forward all while acknowledging where they came from.

With ‘The Million Masks Of God’, they’ve written something that feels similar to one – a record that traverses every corner of their sound, from beefy rock songs to string-assisted grandeur and acoustic bliss, further cementing their place as an under appreciated band to treasure.

Ready to break noisily out of the underground, the quintet have made one of the year’s most accomplished metal albums.

Ulfilas’ Alphabet is a great reinvention after the band’s 2017 debut ‘Youth Is Only Ever Fun In Retrospect’. This is a clear gateway into a sphere of daring artistry that Sundara Karma previously only flirted with.

It’s uneven, with flashes of brilliance. Blood is a record that builds slow and steady, as it continually keeps you on your toes with its experimental and exploratory nature.

It’s a full-bodied album and a journey--a journey we hope it doesn’t take them another decade to make again. Hopefully Jack’s telegram reaches his bandmates a little quicker next time.

Though it barely scratches the surface, then, ‘Essiebons Special’ succeeds in its aim to celebrate Essilfie-Bondzie’s legacy.

‘IRL’ reflects a young woman fully becoming herself, not just confidently throwing her hands up but boldly letting her guard down too.