The scattergun concept inevitably results in a broad range of styles and not all of them are entirely successful. ... Still, the above are minor quibbles, as the bulk of the album is a gorgeous concoction of disparate inspirations finding hitherto elusive homes. The guests get their works in progress nailed by an esteemed craftsman, while Rundgren himself, a man with a partial history of self-sufficiency bordering on the behaviour of a control freak, sounds reinvigorated by allowing others into his world.

There's a tight band of bluegrass/country players and the music takes off accordingly. erudite picking alongside intelligent lyrics with subtle rock sensibility. [Dec 2024, p.107]

A homespun but thoughtfully energetic package which recreates the intimacy of its creation. [Mar 2025, p.104]

Each of the 14 songs here is a gem in its own right, packed with witty wordplay and sophisticated hooks. [Sep 2025, p.105]

Reimagines songs from his catalogue alongside some new cuts and captures him on brilliant form. [Dec 2025, p.101]

The tunes are Tin Pan Alley, the lyrics a compassionate castigation of humanity. [Jan 2026, p.102]

On this album, Harvey is again sweeping up sonic history and weaving it into a pattern of her own making, but it’s more relaxed and more raucous, its reference points less, appropriately, English. It’s a deeply melodic record.

Gibson does occasionally fall into the trap of sounding a little mannered, and this can take away from the well-written songs and from lyrics informed by an interesting back-story.

While this long-gestating album bears very little for those artists' fans to immediately relate to, it conjures something new and different instead. [Nov 2025, p.103]

It’s hard not to hear these songs and think of a hollowed-out Echo & The Bunnymen, devoid of the magic, mystery or the passion that made that band so vital.

It’s certainly a series of striking and original composites, if a slightly meta one.

Easy listening it isn’t, but Three Futures cuts into the tangled complexities of human connection with an uncannily unwavering precision.

Every Country’s Sun feels honed, and passages of ponderous string-picking now flow serenely into the bursts of noise (1,000 Foot Face, Old Poisons) that make them such an imposing force live.

An album that's found the singer engaged again, hungry to work and with a keen eye on quality control, given a creative kickstart by a younger talent whose reverence is tangible but never submissive. [Apr 2025, p.98]

The mid-tempo results and on-the-nose lyrics can wear thin over 15 tracks, but Haim's melodic ease provides fitful featherweight uplift. [Jul 2025, p.104]

Murky, dour and troubled, Frog In Boiling water is a beautiful warning, but a warning nonetheless. [Jun 2024, p.101]

Anderson seems content to allow the songs to unveil themselves like never before; it’s by far his most band-driven, expansive work.

Despite this widescreen approach, Resin Pockets never once loses focus--though maybe there’s an argument for some stronger rhythm, to give more drive--but perhaps that’s a casualty of such an ad hoc way of working.

Between the framing piano passages of Pills And People Gone and Distant Symphony, an edge of techno-paranoia permeates the lyrics, especially the title track and the strident False Economy, and there are fierce club beats to match their best, not least on Run Free. [Nov 2025, p.105]

It's not as immediately brilliant as its predecessor, but still possessing some fine moments. [May 2026, p.101]

Wilco could have settled into being a comfortable, unchallenging arena-filling rock band, instead they’re knocking out marvels like this every year, constantly defying expectations and embracing change.

The Long Ryders should be proud--they’ve made a fine album that’s a worthy follow-up to their 80s oeuvre.

Fans of Joni Mitchell and early PJ Harvey will relate to Fatal Optimist on a visceral level. [Christmas 2025, p.133]

Their 14th album rakes over the wreckage and emerges as a generous, deeply humane mission statement: it’s an album of profound melancholy, of course, but also one lit up with heroic, big-pop colour. Ultra-vivid indeed.

Best approach it as a mixed bag which will give up its secrets slowly, if at all, and doff the cap one more time to its creator’s skewed approach to this rock music thing.

Production from The War On Drugs' Adam Granduciel an layered, liquid backing from his bandmates makes the record soar and swoon, delivering the cracked grandeur these songs for the "overwhelmed and overtired" demand. [May 2025, p.105]

The album’s momentum admittedly falters on less essential tracks such as the dub-infused, 10-minute sprawl of In The Graveyard, but it’s soon regained on Do The Supernova and the defiant 21st Century Man.

Brewed in DIY charm and classic pop nous, Earl Grey works best when it pairs tight, Abba-esque melodies and singer-songwriter pop with the lo-fi spirit of C86.

So it’s an album that demands your attention.

There’s a gleefully brash use of whatever’s at hand that recalls the one-man-band approach to his solo debut, Yr Atal Genhedlaeth, but American Interior is also a far better exploration of Americana than Super Furry Animals’ Love Kraft turned out to be.

Seeger has rarely been in better voice, imbuing folk melodies with jazz phrasing on the tender tale of innocence lost, When Fairy Stories End, and the smoky You Don’t Know How Lucky You Are.

A few of its 15 songs could have been omitted--not least the seemingly half-finished closer Forever And Always--but there’s certainly more to enjoy than not.

This isn’t quite the monumental album it strives to be--a consistent whole being achieved by sacrificing full immersion in any of the styles touched upon--but why stop now when they’re heading down such a promising path?

It’s an album that feels reflective but forward-thinking, observing a time and space but interpreting it in a way that all can appreciate.

The track’s second half building gradually--if not as gradually as their less condensed recordings – to a more dramatic finale. In comparison, dronesome pair Overhear and Rise feel a little underwhelming.

With the likes of Hollow, all echoing goth riffs, the dance-around-your bedroom exuberance of Resolution, and the caustic Your Genius, it can’t help but win you over.

It is, like its predecessor, a beguiling union of east and west--an album that quickly establishes its own universe and welcomes you in, with its reference points of Indian classical music, jazz, kosmische and dub.

Inspired by acts as diverse as Crass, Fugazi and Fleetwood Mac, The Guillotine is gritty, greasy and macabre, while lyrically engaging and deliciously tuneful. A word of caution, though; these earworms are liable to turn.

His knack for alchemising an engrossing trip hasn’t deserted him yet.

There's a floating eeriness to The Night Sky while near-title track Traveller Of Time & Space is a dreamy, wistful wonder. [May 2024, p.103]

A Study Of Losses is ultimately a pleasant (if sometimes monotonous) release. [May 2025, p.103]

Stupendous stuff. [Jun 2025, p.104]

There's no way of guessing what's coming next. Americana doesn't do it justice. [Nov 2025, p.105]

This is a no-quibble five-star release and truly essential listening. [Oct 2025, p.120]

A country classic (yet tempting for rock fans, too) made up of leftovers that would have been career greats for so many artists. [Nov 2025, p.97]

Tugs gently but effectively at every heart string. [Christmas 2025, p.133]

This Old Dog plays soft and sweet; but its rheumy eyes betray the pain.

Whether all this is owing to a slight change in line-up (on bass and violin) or just increased confidence, it’s impossible to tell, but whatever the reason, Lanterns On The Lake are shining more brightly.

The thing is, by Adams’ standards, too many of the songs sound slightly underwritten.

Get past the familiar jangle of the opening four songs, and there are far subtler nuances to contemplate.

A work of powerful, gothic solemnity. [Apr 2025, p.105]

There’s enough going on in the grooves of Smote Reverser to satisfy your psych and/or prog urges for the foreseeable future, let alone in the few months it’ll take Dwyer to follow it up.

The feeling is one of two planets that happened to get into each other’s orbit, with pleasing results. Hopefully they’ll eclipse again soon.

Sketches Of Brunswick East is the band’s mellowest outing since 2015’s Paper Mâché Dream Balloon.

Although at times it underwhelms, at its best this album absolutely convinces and leaves no doubt as to the ability of its creator.

Goat continue to make some magical and mysterious music. [Nov 2024, p.99]

Compassion is a major grower, but this is because its fusions don’t all immediately translate. Barnes profits from holding onto some of the answers.

The Wasted Years collects these first four releases; a fabulous chance to get reacquainted with the magic of the Butcher, and what sweetly daft indie sounded like in the mid-80s.

This is a master craftsman at work, without bells, whistles or any other gimmicks. True country classicism.

This disc represents a decent, very listenable attempt at updating that picture. It is however, a relatively small album, overlooked both by predecessors from the new wave era and by more recent, lofty stadium takes on the sound.

Ideas reaches out rather more, while French Drop is a sleight-of-hand piece that works on several levels.

Blue Elephant is like a soundtrack to a classic ITC TV programme, with lots of jumping into sleek jaguars and speeding along Chelsea Embankment. If that ticks your boxes, this is one of the best albums you’ll hear all year.

Buckingham has crafted a solid rather than seismic affair.

They build their own world. Eventually you grasp its shrewdly filtered emotion and want to live there, too.

Heaton remains the go-to chronicler of the Everyman condition, but let’s not underplay Abbott’s vital contribution as both equal-billing foil and relatable conduit of female perspectives in these songs. Plays not just for today, but for weeks, months and years to come.

Wherever you listen, ideas accrue: given a gleaming production by Tunng's Mike Lindsay, Springs ... contains outsider art-pop multitudes. [Apr 2024, p.103]

This is blazing, and even now nobody does it better. [Feb 2025, p.104]

As with previous albums, the musicianship is impeccable, but Cooper's vocals often fell too polite, the guitars bloodless. [Sep 2025, p.105]

No one ever asked The Monkees to be anything more than pratfalling archetypes who could act and sing a bit, yet they asked more of themselves than they needed to; and they’re digging deep again today.

While no new territory is broken on Orc, none needs to be. The expanding Oh Sees fanbase laps up the band’s highs and lows, of which there are both here.

Baldi certainly has a knack for crafting a chorus but once he finds the structure, he tends to hold on to it for a little too long, meaning that the charming hooks on Life Without Sound can often become idle repetition.

Alas Salvation is defined by being undefinable, and thrives off the surprises it delivers over its 40-plus minutes. If the execution isn’t perfect, it nevertheless reveals a scope of ambition that should serve the three-piece well further down the road.

There’s a light, electronic dusting to many of these songs, but on tracks such as The Pain Of Never, Marc’s distinctive vocals have rarely sounded richer and warmer.

There's plenty of fun but there's also melancholy too. [May 2026, p.103]

Kicking off with I Am Dust, it hangs together marvellously as an album.

There’s an urgency to Paradise, with punishing drums and agitated guitars, but the band never quite embrace the obvious.

Endless Arcade represents the biggest demand on their followers the band have made for some time, with pensive contemplation underpinning an eclectic, experimental set of songs. But they have long earned the right to venture off in whichever direction takes their fancy. They are still growing, still evolving and still learning. Endless Arcade is a brave record by a brave band. There are few of Teenage Fanclub’s ilk.

An unmitigated joy.

Danilova’s most accessibly gothtastic numbers bear worrying resemblance to a pitch for a songwriting credit on the next Evanescence or Lorde album. Yet there’s no denying that tracks such as Veka and Wiseblood are bangerz of the highest, and indeed saddest, order.

Between its open-skied romanticism and thorny honesty, Stars’ sustained momentum seems assured.

The CDs don’t sit properly in their sleeves, and the booklet, which was once speculated to include photography from Shadow’s visual cohort B+, delivers only the scantest imagery and discographical detail.... Still, as far as the music’s concerned it’s a thrilling journey sizeable enough to make an impression on your shelf.

There’s enough originality, guile, and plain old-school hip-hop verve here to make this stand on its own.

Stylistically, Marshall’s “less is more” minimalism ensures Covers sounds remarkably cohesive, making it, as ever, a totally immersive listen.

Her music and mesmerising voice also alight upon jazz-folk (Get Wise), sparse rock (Blood Bond) and orchestral indie-rock (Desire Path), building a positively cinematic collection which speaks softly but firmly of the state of the world today. [Apr 2024, p.105]

Over the course of 12 bittersweet tracks, it becomes clearer and clearer just how lucky we are to be around for any time at all. [Jul 2024, p.105]

Ash balance the experimental and traditional like the seasoned pros they are. Ad Astra is a delight. [Nov 2025, p.102]

It all makes for a fascinating, moving collection of songs. No, they’re not the best band in America, but they are worthy of your time and attention.

It all gives the sense of a fun, messy but inspired recording session conducted in a fug of weed smoke.

McMahon's quivering tenor is a little mannered, but as the lush Round The World stretches its apocalyptic anxieties over nine shape-shifting minutes, you can't fault his questing ambition. [Jun 2024, p.101]

Listening to mid-period Wilco was, admittedly, never instantaneous, but you feel a more savage edit would do wonders with Sukierae.

By the time The Morning Is Waiting appears, all glorious awakenings in pianos and strings, the album begins to feel triumphant. The elation continues to the end, with the funk returning in spades for Same Name, before closer Stay Awake warms you up to start over.

This mischievous ethos has rarely been better displayed than on this often uneasy listening set from Berlin-based, old-school activist DJs Graef and Astro who, after name-making solo careers, came together last year to form their Money $ex imprint as a platform for their woozy marriages of obscure vinyl sensibility and startling aural foraging.

Some tracks fare better than others, and it would certainly be a stronger album without the insistent disco party beats of SSD or Elle Ne T’Aime Pas.

10 wonderfully intense songs. [Nov 2024, p.99]

All 11 tracks are evocative and addictive.

All in all, another envelope-pushing opus from a pathfinding musician whose talent doesn’t recognise boundaries.

Borrowing the album’s title from WH Auden’s 1947 musings on how the modern age fosters alienation and isolation, Rodgers has created a fragmented piece of pure 21st century pop.