This follow-up to April’s excellent ‘More Than Any Other Day’ debut is a scattergun 24-minute journey, and its every destination is a delight.

This album encapsulates the nostalgic elements of ESG, ELO, Tom Tom Club, The Doors and Sly And The Family Stone, applies a gloss of New York cool and then re-packages it with the modern production of the LCD Soundsystem, CSS and Beck variety. Forget the handclap, they'll take a standing ovation.

This is UK bass music at its best.

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

The Wellington five-piece’s sixth album is a fabulous meld of power-pop, electronica and US West Coast harmony that swings through techno-country on 'Prawn', and even dabbles in soulful house on 'Celestial Bodies'.

It might not hold any firm answers or blazing rebuttals to the world burning up like a flaming, stinking trash can, but crucially it refuses to look away from the mess, and confronts it instead.

Doherty’s folky 2019 album with The Puta Madres was the sound of the former kid in the riot staring out to sea and looking for a little peace. Here with Lo, it feels like he’s truly found it. Now more than ever, this record is truly Arcadian.

'Begin To Hope' is the sound of [Spektor] blossoming into the most talented female artist around--and one with edge. [8 Jul 2006, p.43]

This compilation may only offer a limited snapshot of the Dunedin sound, but rarities like the unreleased ‘Christmas Chimes’ make it worth the trip.

At its best it’s like sifting through a treasure trove of half-remembered gems, the chief reference points all coming from the colourful side of the ’60s.

It’s not an easy listen, but a brave, beautiful and affecting album--an attempt to find order in chaos that, as she wishes for it, offers a “crutch” to the heartbroken.

‘Doggerel’, in its hospitably decanted way, is every bit as transportive and absorbing as the early records, and further proof that Pixies’ music remains the alt-rock gold standard. Swill it around and savour.

To immerse yourself in 'Violet Cries' is more akin to entering a Ye Olde English fairy tale than some trashy vampire fiction, like discovering a weighty, weathered tome that lies under several thick inches of dust and recounts a distant age.

The world he now paints seems bigger, brighter, more sensitive and compassionate. His songs have grown out of the warrens of his pain, and instead have bloomed into joyous epiphanies.

In the hands of someone less witty and schizoid, a near three-hour epic would be unforgivable, but Merritt at play is frequently magical.

Crutchfield’s vocals strain with emotion against the stripped-back instrumentation here often, the result feels like this is one of her most personal musical interpretations to date.

Back To The Woods is both a consolidation for Haze (they sound like themselves again and there’s clear sonic unity--all the tracks were produced by old friend/collaborator TK Kayembe) and something of a hangover of a record.

Creatures Of An Hour is a record that finds intimacy in minimalism, and lets the space in the music build to an atmosphere almost as crushing as the audible moments.

The shift from trap beats and hip-hop delivery to purer pop suites Malone well, proving that slowing down can be a creative advantage, especially when you’re heading in the right direction.

‘Hunted’ showcases Calvi’s talent for curation, with a selection of contributors here who know when to let the songs breathe and when to provide something unexpected.

It’s no mean feat that ‘No Gods No Masters’ is not only Garbage’s best album in 20 years – at least – but one that could only have been made now.

So, business as usual then; SFA have made another enormously enjoyable record, but one that is unlikely to ‘do an Elbow’ and suddenly make them a serious mainstream proposition again.

This a forward-thinking, original British album that has captivated a new generation of music fans, not simply by rehashing the old, but by giving the young something that belongs to them and taunting them to do better.

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

The album is stuffed with this kind of lyrical proficiency, which demands high levels of dissection. ‘King’s Disease’ is an acutely perceptive and culturally relevant body of work that finds its author willing to try out new ideas. There’s a genuine conversation to be had about whether it’s the best rap album of the year so far.

These songs contain the record's protest element as well as its exemplary musicality: heartbreaking soul choruses, classical samples and '80s rocksteady rhythms.

His skill rests in the realisation that you can't airbrush soul: so, instead of smoothing rough edges, these cuts of cyborg funk fidget with digital tics and gasps. [11 Jun 2005, p.67]

He’s still twisted, but Khan’s genius has never been more obvious.