A cinematic widening of scope, ’If I Could Make It Go Quiet’ occasionally leans back on some blockbuster tropes, but in the stand-out moments Ulven proves that she’s more than capable of rabble-rousing indie-rock and slow-burning yearning alike.

While chaos and confusion may surround us, Manson’s response this time is a dose of respite, mercy, clarity and his most human work so far.

[Mt Washington is] an early contender for song of the year, with Local Natives themselves current frontrunners for unexpectedly brilliant comeback of 2013.

‘Shadow Offering’ is an intriguing, if slightly scattered, listen.

Hebden has recalibrated his sound to something darker and more rhythmic, without losing a note of melody. [21 May 2005, p.66]

Rival Schools have finally returned from an inexplicably long hiatus to demonstrate why they're such luminaries for today's post-hardcore hordes.

Back in the Saddle (Creek) is Laura Burhenn--half of disbanded candyfloss-pop duo Georgie James--whose breathy coo glides effortlessly over the golden ‘Dusty In Memphis’ glow that lights up the first Mynabirds album.

A relentlessly positive record that acts as an inclusive antidote for our increasingly divisive times.

ATDI's latest album has its amps cranked to the hilt from start to finish. Far from being another in a long line of sanitised American punk rock albums, 'Relationship Of Command' sounds REAL.

Johnny Venus and Doctur Dot prove to everyone that rap groups are on the rise. In a genre overpopulated with solo artists, it’s refreshing to see a duo emerge from the ashes. If you give the sick lyricism and jazz overtones a few more years, they could be the next Outkast.

‘Cheater’ is one hell of a trip with a rare band who are singularly themselves. No-one else could do what Pom Poko do.

As the album unfolds, the band continue to nail the balance between rebellious anthems and cutting social commentary.

By the time you reach the gentle conclusion of ‘Bonedigger’, it’s clear Adult Jazz will be inspiring their own army of rip-offs before long.

Wire have bizarrely remained a cult concern. This ought to change with the release of their 12th record, 11 clever tracks of unrelenting and witty pop.

It harnesses large spaces, allowing songs like 'Caravan' to blossom into something more orchestral than you'd expect; fitting for a band whose name translates as 'reverberation.'

This album is an onslaught of brutal drumming and bowel-loosening riffs, occasionally leavened by surprisingly delicate vocal interplay.

An odd album. [13 Aug 2005, p.58]

It won’t convert the unconvinced, but Petty sounds as inspired as ever.

Two years, lots of touring, and a wad of cash from Domino Records later and the New Jersey four-piece have shaken off the sun-flecked dust of that haphazard genre to reveal a clean and canny record.

'One Part Lullaby' lapses very slightly into generic Barlow-pop two-thirds through, then soon recovers its shimmering grandeur. Sebadoh hardliners will dismiss this record as pop fluff, but few will be listening, too busy hailing The Best Lou Barlow Album In The World... Ever

'Hot Shots II' is a dizzy, magical voyage of self-discovery - concise where its predecessor was unfocused, immediate where the pop urge was once lacking.

There's little musically that will startle the faithful or convert the doubtful, but the Present's gift was always for words. [12 Feb 2005, p.51]

Their sound is timeworn and instantly familiar: the “set me free” chorus of ‘Streetwalker’ is pure Springsteen, while the honky-tonk of ‘Trashcan’ is classic Stones, made more remarkable by the sandpaper snarl of their frontman.

Musically, Madness still trade in pub singalongs powered by ska rhythms and music-hall jollity--but the jollity feels forced, and Suggs’ tired vocals suggest a man going through the motions.

That’s what’s frustrating here--although, like Waits, he’s obviously a truly poetic lyricist, the instrumentation is much more engaging than Henry’s placid voice.

The result is purest punk bubblegum, and deserves to be blasted long and loud all summer long.

Like a good new party drug, Lesser Evil finds a sweet spot more often than not if you let it.

Climax polishes Beastmilk’s iron-curtained grandiosity slightly (‘Ghosts Out Of Focus’ is eerily like Suede), while maintaining the Cold War-era paranoia in their lyrics.