Uniform’s American nightmare is relatable and honest, revealing the dangers of dependency, the want of escape, and the problematic effects one can experience while trying to end that bond. One can’t say that there’s hope within the contents of Wake in Fright, (one might even say it’s a tad overwrought), but it’s a story worth telling nonetheless.

As simple and unchallenging as Atlas is, it’s undoubtedly the group’s most emotionally resonant album, both sonically and lyrically, even if Real Estate chooses to unleash them in a diminutive sigh rather than a fearsome roar.

Loving In Stereo has flashes of talent beyond its most showy jewels. There's a seventies aura that stains each verse, beat, and falsetto, as they channel a post-pandemic, Studio 54 vibe on tracks like What D'You Know About Me?, Bonnie Hill, and Fire. On the latter, bass lines take over and flare with fiery excitement. Loving in Stereo is the first album that Jungle releases through their own independent label Caiola Records. It feels like they're moving forward.

There’s a confrontational energy to The Underside of Power that encourages conversation, and not just rapturous abandon. It’s an unorthodox approach that immediately distinguishes them.

Each turn the album takes is a good one: the swaying Excerpts reinforces the scope of the music, the vinyl-affected Imprints throws some atmosphere into the approach, and, really, the whole of the album makes for an unrivaled listening experience.

Those looking for a sombre accompaniment for the wintry evenings ahead could do a hell of a lot worse than pick up this superb record.

It’s a wondrous gem of an album that, even at its most lustrous, manifests itself with biting precision.

House of Sugar is just as bewildering as Rocket, even if Giannascoli is too much of a tunesmith to keep things too abstract. He's a cunning songwriter who will take on a challenge whenever an idea seems to complex to untangle, even if his tender side will always be there.

Clearly, songs is the more developed album of the pairing here and one that those already under Lenker’s spell will treasure and contrast to her earlier work.

Taiga is a more mainstream album than people may be used to from Zola Jesus. But that is not a bad thing.

Wakin’ On A Pretty Daze strikes with a gust of pent up emotions, a trailblazing record that openly affirms a personal accountability for self without slipping into heavy-handedness.

Through the years, the band has sculpted their sound into full-fledged metal, and as the burly, serpentine tracks Arteries of Blacktop and Full Moon, Black Water attest, they incorporate palm-muted riffs and Sabbathy doom with much aplomb—even if the latter closes the album with delicate, melancholic guitars, saying goodbye to their departed loved ones with gentle compassion.

The electronic work is fantastic throughout Plunge, never adhering to presets and making full use of every beat, burst and throb. When coupled with Dreijer’s slick, razor-sharp vocal you have a monster of a record that gets more impressive with every listen.

Several Shades of Why is plaintive and embryonic to the point of breaking down barriers, musically and personally. It's as if the meat has been torn off the bone leaving us with the carcass. And as carcasses go, this one is mighty pretty.

A damn fine album.

Much of Patience is visceral and fierce, but it is also skillfully melodic (think of Hole's Live Through This, or even Celebrity Skin), the result of a band that approaches pop constructs with abrasive guitar sounds.

It’s got a great list of guest vocalists, too, and it feels like each one has been recruited as a result of careful consideration. If there is a criticism, it’s that it’s a disjointed record that sometimes feels like Steadman focuses more on showing off his preferences than his own soul, but it sounds delicious either way.

As more challenging and artful pieces like The Morning is Waiting prove, the Brewises’ love for intricate harmonies will always go hand in hand with slick pop hooks.

Already excellent work made better by careful rework and distinct (re)vision.

In the case of Blackjazz, Shining spreads lyrical passages across songs, repeats song titles with different music attached: they basically create an environment that can only be understood as a whole.

The 70s soft rock inspirations hit the hardest on two of the most interesting cuts here, Far From Born Again and Bad for the Boys. The two tracks combine a jaunty, easy-listening sheen, with lyrics in the former that discuss sex work positively, and in the latter, that talk about the reckoning of abusive men.

A muted and detailed project that doesn’t feel like a grand statement or treatise—just a collection of lovely little songs.

The finale isn’t particularly grand, but Holding Hands With Jamie does much to harness the passion of "left of the dial" indie rock while paying attention to now, eschewing accessibility and melody for the sake of finding something aurally distinct.

It’s the kind of record that leaves no stone unturned and surely, during the playback sessions, a warm swell of pride must have risen from within all those involved. And rightly so.

Overall, it's another great GBV album that continues to spotlight the Pollard's staggering work of genius.

Blood Pressures is a compelling forty minutes, and by the time we reach the closer, Pots and Pans, with a slider and twelve bar riffs to accompany its sultry, resonant admissions, you can barely imagine them any other way.

In Western Stars, the old adage about finding meaning through the journey couldn't feel truer. And that's an idea that Springsteen can relate to—leaving a little bit of yourself in a landscape that feels immortal.

With Skying, The Horrors continue to explore familiar territory whilst refining their idiosyncratic slant like proficient tastemakers.