So exciting that it should come with a precautionary bottle of Prozac. [6 May 2006, p.33]

Bentham may have struggled writing this album, but the results exude confidence and ambition. Whilst it draws heavily on the slacker sounds of the 1990’s, Bentham brings the genre firmly into 2020 with her fresh take on what it’s like to create in a time where inspiration can be hard to find.

The devil be praised that, rather than visiting the shrink or brothel to deal with his sexual dysfunction, the Grinderman went to the studio instead.

It’s an intricate project – the record also comes with an accompanying 50-minute film – that could collapse under the weight of its concept. Bolstered by its author’s frank pen, though, and instilled with a sense of hope, it’s a powerful listen.

A raw blast of electric power that serves as a career coda, of sorts.

It is an elegant and, quite frankly, utterly beautiful record.

A Weird Exits should prove a solid fan-satisfier or entry point for newbies.

The 11-track collection of lugubrious love songs shows Hawley returning to his smooth ice-cream ad soundtracking roots.

Far from just leftovers, the second excellent album to come out of this rich period proves that the well runs deep in Tamara Lindeman’s imperial phase.

Follow-up No Blues finds the band settling into a more consistent sound.

It’s light and transcendent, but also grounded and assured of itself even in its most vulnerable moments.

Can you hear it? It’s here! Biffy finally make that sprint-burst into the rock stratosphere and trample over the competition like badly tattooed elephants smashing through dead branches.

It’s not quite the equal of its predecessor--last year’s breakneck, flute-powered ‘Floating Coffin’--but is a gem nonetheless: nine tracks of noise-spiked Nuggets-y psych-punk, each one hitting with the crisp concision of a long-lost jukebox classic.

It’ll be under your skin in no time.

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.

The result is an album as art smart as Franz, as disco droll as Hot Chip, as pose pop as The Naked And Famous and as catchy and cool as the Two Door lot on the other lot's Indian cycling holiday.

At 60 minutes plus, it’s too long, and neither Cocker and Eno’s ambient doodle nor 3D’s ‘Invasion’ work. But, nonetheless, ‘Never...’ is sleek, deep and full of ideas.

Gorgeous.

Where Sky Larkin were once winsome and breezy, Motto pounds ahead with heart-punching defiance and desperation to be heard. Listen up.

There’s an Afro-funk air to the bouncing ‘Money Man’, while the languid ‘Mary Mary’ offers some chilled Orb-style breathing room during one of the most joyful dance releases of the year.

You can’t fault Owusu’s ambition, nor his ability to translate his furies and fears into a response that feels genuinely reactive and urgent. On his third album, he’s made a truly modern version of a protest record.

Gone Now proves he should be recognised as more than a writing partner or producer to the stars, but one of the stars himself.

It's an audacious album of lyrical wit, a defiant record of pugnacious bass, samples from a certain robot-helmet-wearing French electro duo, tangential guitar, synth noise and dark mutterings, much of which concern Smith's experience of the medical profession following a spate of broken bones.

Goddamn it's taken a while, but with 'High Violet' The National's slow and steady evolution can no longer be ignored. This lot are fully grown-up, coloured in and going overground.

It's heady stuff.

An underground delight. [13 Nov 2004, p.57]

This is happy music for hard times, a ray of warm and righteous sunshine just when it was needed most.

Taking common inspiration and twisting it into their own shape, Childhood have concocted a debut that’s more than capable of standing up to the rougher approach of their geographical peers. In doing so, they've uncovered a diamond.