Commune, the collective’s second studio album, is a pulsating sex globule of groovy chants and invocations.

What it has is a mood, a continuing tone; and it’s a shimmering thing with pastoral chimes that fervently calls the faithful.

The melodies may be a little more complex, but only rarely does Guitar sound as beguiling as 2023's Five Easy Hot Dogs. [Sep 2025, p.103]

It can’t ever realistically hold a candle to The Modern Dance or its seismic follow-up Dub Housing, but it regularly flirts with inspiration.

A must for fans, but a little bit of between-song banter and audience reaction wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Sadly, Exploded View’s admirable commitment to spontaneity has resulted in a muggily-recorded LP which fails to match the usual high-quality post-punk output of the esteemed Sacred Bones label.

Though Messes is a record full of heart, it doesn’t always hit there as powerfully as it could.

As ever, Browne leavens his harder-edged songs with gentler fare. The Caribbean-flavoured, Haiti-inspired Love Is Love has a distinct hint of Paul Simon to it, while My Cleveland Heart attempts to build a whole song around the premise of being given an artificial ticker.

While the cynical may snigger behind their hands at this degree of conceptualisation, it makes for a suprisingly tight, focused release.

Ghost On Ghost completes Iron & Wine’s transformation from simple soul-searching singer-songwriter into fully-fledged bandleader. Beam firmly remains a master at both.

The whole is a little too tethered to the (partially incomprehensible) songs to drift off effectively, and is too morose to uplift, yet The Telescopes continue to own a certain core sensibility--and the capacity to surprise with how they express it.

Merzbow’s creations add a new dimension to Boris’ material, so the whole thing sounds apocalyptic and huge.

Taken at a meditative, reflective pace, it’s a dense, magisterial record, but there’s always space for Fay’s humble, declamatory “alternative gospel” ruminations.

Despite the turbulent emotions of the lyrics, Teitelbaum keeps her sound tight and focused - giving the album enormous impact. [May 2025, p.103]

Here he’s just one of the gang, trading songs and in-jokes with singer-songwriter Jeff Blackburn, Moby Grape bassist Bob Mosley and drummer Johnny Craviotto, his wiry lead guitar slicing through the good-ole-boys’ country-rock.

Woof. is almost overwhelmingly of the moment, yet destined to stick around. [Oct 2024, p.101]

Perhaps surprising in its straightforwardness, although the sound of him warbling and MCing through swatches of distortions all over these more amenable tracks was always likely to be incomparable. [Sep 2025, p.105]

Here they come full circle, embracing the very essence of their classic ambient dub masterpiece Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld. Moreover, there's a return to the dancefloor of the early nineties. [Nov 2025, p.104]

The result is an album of scope and dynamism, sometimes hushed but tooled for outreach on the urgent Dandelion and baleful Neptune, where a choir lifts Tonra’s sunken vocal.

A peculiar cove, Wareham is also a viciously acute lyricist with a love for tremolo, and has invented what might be described as quiet heavy metal, or rock’n’roll noir.

The list of the era’s top head acts is impressive--everyone from Tim Hardin and Canned Heat to Jefferson Airplane and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Trouble is, the roll call doesn’t make much logical sense.

Yours, Dreamily is tight without purpose, bordered where it should be wild, and only occasionally feels alive at all.

Moore’s Nashville-based father Bob played bass for everyone from Dylan and Elvis to Sammy Davis Jr and Quincy Jones, and his influence is clear; all of pop music is here.

A new collection of previously unreleased tracks from the original members, Lost & Found compiles studio tracks that never quite made it onto the original album, interspersed with delightful live recordings from the various musicians.

The overall mood is, ironically, not dissimilar to drifting in and out of consciousness while the TV murmurs in the background, occasionally jolting you awake with a ringing phone or a spray of gunfire.

Dead Cross’ comely disquiet is bathed in that inimitable Patton charisma, and his vocals add in so many diverse elements that Lombardo and co cannot have foreseen. In short, Patton makes it fun.

At their best, Garrie’s songs are tender, well-observed vignettes of a life well travelled, mostly on dusty French roads with a bar at the end. At their not-so-best, Garrie’s lyrics are more than a touch hokey (the quite frankly awful Boy Soldier) while the jauntier back bar numbers (Bacardi Samuel) are for Francophiles only. The Moon & The Village is destined to again divide punters and purists. One for fans new and old it is.

It's certainly a feast for the ears, and possibly the most satisfying listen since 2011 masterpiece Underneath The Pine. [Oct 2024, p.103]

This is intelligent easy listening in a band setting. [Oct 2025, p.132]

While Andrews eventually got back on track while sifting through the music and adding lyrics, that initial uncertainty lingers throughout the album. [Jun 2026, p.101]

Vol 2’s serrated guitars, sawdust vocals, tipsy piano and sardonic wit are a scalping delight, while still tapping reserves of tender beauty for Jumpstarting and Pulse.

A joyful, spirited album that also stands to teach whoever listens to it some vital life lessons.

They’re not as overwrought as the earliest Bright Eyes records--recorded when he was in his teens and early 20s--but they’re just as pure and open-hearted, albeit with the (jaded) wisdom that comes with age, making it arguably his best solo effort yet.

The most exciting thing about them--their knack with a tune and fanfare--is buried beneath what could be considered unnecessary flourishes. Strip it back guys, chill out. You’re still young.

A winning melange of tinny disco beats, retro-futuristic textures and layers of synth, it’s by far their most cohesive work to date; in its less inspired moments it feels literally (and presumably intentionally) monotonous, but at its best it’s an immersive, absorbing listen.

After the brutal old school motorik of Lights Flicker (Manning, sax and guitar dogfighting over Zappi’s hypnotic vamp) and Heron reciting over the oceanic swell of Fish, no doubts are left that Faust’s unique creative flame still burns as bright as their social conscience.

A little more variety in tone would allow the album's heavier tracks to hit harder, but if it's high-quality heavy rock you're after, Beth has delivered it consistently. [Sep 2025, p.103]

BJM’s 16th full-length begins with a sublime eight-minute krautrock corker and doesn’t get any less fun from there.

Welcome evidence of a still young band stretching themselves and maturing at a pleasing pace. [Mar 2025, p.105]

Occasionally, this approach doesn’t match the heartfelt sentiment (see the lyrics to both You’re My Friend and A True Original) but, on the whole, this is the sound of a man reinvigorated, happy to be recording and with a dependable, more involved backing band than ever.

If maturity is on the Bad Boys’ lyrical agenda on the sardonically titled Rot, letting up the pace is not.

Additional keyboards and synths fatten the sound in places without swamping the innate simplicity of the melodies, while guest singer Sarah Jessop brings an ethereal twist to High The Hemlock Grows. Likewise, Janovitz’s daughter Lucy weighs in with a delicious harmony on the reserved cover of Paul Simon’s The Only Living Boy In New York.

Thankfully, the three-part harmonies and irresistible melodies that lit up the debut remain ever present, exemplified here on both Memoirs Of Grey and Sweet Salvation.

While One Deep River is unlikely to make many new converts, it will more than satisfy his loyal army of fans.

Really, it just suffers from sequel syndrome, as there’s a fine single-disc collection buried within some over-blown, try-hard choices.

There are moments of warped magic--haunting melodies, neat instrumental hooks, surprising turns of key and mood--but there are also times when you suspect it might have been more interesting to hear what Yorke and his collaborators came up with in the studio before it got eaten by ProTools.

Toxic synths and an undeniable sense of occasion pervade, the record sounds appropriately big and it just about steers clear of unwanted pomposity.

Hang can delight and frustrate in equal measure, but it is an indulgent album that tempts the listener into just one more, wafer-thin listen.

Their last outing earned them a Grammy, but the confidence and cohesion of Bloom is arguably even more worthy of gongs. [Jan 2025, p.103]

More songs like the atmospheric Walking At Midnight would make the album a more rounded listen. If they step outside the box next time out, they may be onto something a bit special.

A perfect, if bittersweet, swansong. [Dec 2024, p.107]

Both songs [Stained Glass and Same Sun] lack that extra dynamic, and instead plod along in somewhat tepid one-dimensionality. Somehow, though, that doesn’t break the dreamy, wistful spell of the album as a whole.

Vocally, Leaving Meaning is especially strong, with an atypical abundance of words appearing to have pushed Gira to experiment with their delivery.

The thing about Mulcahy is that he can try on all of these voices and it never once feels contrived, the sensitivity of his readings means you believe in him. That, along with the quality and variety of songwriting makes Possum a rare gift.

Evil Spirits is their best work in 35 years, so if you last heard them performing Eloise on Top Of The Pops or haven’t purchased one of their albums since Strawberries, then it’s time to give them another hearing.

First single Town And Country is a band-backed hymn to city-loving Wainwright’s current lifestyle that adds a touch of rock’n’roll pizzazz to proceedings.

At this stage, it’s almost impossible to grasp that Opeth were once a bona fide death metal band, though more aggressive songs such as Voice Of Treason remind you that they’ve never lost their edge.

One concern is that the real country stuff takes time to arrive. When it does, on the pedal-steel-powered Just Pleasing You and the Western swinging If You Lived Here, You’d Be Home Now, The Traveling Kind delivers on its title.

This is more the work of a road-hardened posse, as opposed to the more introspective troubadour of more recent times, the frontman’s now spitting out odes to blue collar pride (The Firebreak Line, If Mama Coulda Seen Me).

A welcome return to form.

Born Horses was a slow process – Donahue compares the patient approach to recognising the “statue already inside the marble” – but it has given rich rewards; a change in focus that remains unmistakably Mercury Rev. [Oct 2024, p.98]

An astonishingly talented family, most of them have made records of note on their own over the last year or so, but this union is something very special indeed.

True, distinction is not at a premium. But if the job for now is to keep mosh-pits lively while adding chasers of personality and long-term promise, the melodiously snarky Pull The Other One and all-together-now anthem Formidable offer crowning evidence of a job well done.

A dynamic, bluesy set that energetically declares itself from the outset. [Jun 2024, p.103]

Vocalist Maria McKee's pure, twangy holler takes centre-stage on the early Lone Justice setlist staple Rattlesnake Mama and a Benmont Trench-led swing through MC5's Sister Anne. [Dec 2024, p.107]

All the blatantly audible influences become irrelevant, leaving Cigarettes After Sex with a sound of its own, created with scant tools and seemingly minimal effort. Like the best sleight of hand magicians, the trick’s conjured before you, then gone.

The wait is worth it. IV consists of 10 expansive and eclectic songs that straddle genres and push boundaries.

It’s only on standout track, Kangaroo, that you could at any point pigeonhole PVT’s latest sound (in this instance, club banger). The remainder is far too elusive, a fusion of too many elements. Not confused, just produced in confusing times.

Kind of like almost any Dylan covers album, really, you just wish the man himself were doing this.

Consistent with the band’s work since All Is Dream, wide-eyed odes to the elements are interspersed with fragile ruminations on relationships. A welcome return.

It’s a fascinating and most worthy archival release.

Craft’s intention is to take the listener “off into the clear night of Joshua Tree” and there are certainly moments when he achieves that. It’s not quite the same Joshua Tree of Gram Parsons or U2 but that’s the thing about deserts--they bring you up against yourself.

The man is a master guitarist--and an unflashy one, content to let a wash of pedal steel or a sprig of piano commandeer the songs.

On the whole, for an artist so spectral and kaleidoscopic, Upside Down Mountain is a pretty sweet ride.

often esoteric and elusive, EXPO is also a warmly alluring art-rock declaration of determined intent. [Feb 2026, p.103]

An extremely welcome return for Rangda, The Heretic’s Bargain finds the fanciful jam wranglers at the peak of their powers.

Undeniably well-crafted as the hooks are, over a whole album they sound hollow and forced. [Oct 2024, p.101]

Indigo Park is effortlessly one of the most intriguing, accomplished, inventive and rewarding records of Hornsby’s long career, rich in the mellow vibes of his most radio-friendly past recordings, but at the same time resolutely, restlessly pushing envelopes, and its perpetually inspired maker. [Apr 2026, p.102]

It’s a shame then that the music too often tips into the bland, with too much fey folkiness to handle in one sitting.

Tooth & Nail is probably the most accurate and all-encompassing illustration of the great man’s worth.

The music simultaneously remains as era-defining, self-effacing, future-thinking and retro as it ever did.

The album bristles with tunefulness and class. [Jul 2024, p.105]

There are some familiarly sunny pop moments on here, including Hearts Are For Breaking, which trundles along like a Deborah Harry solo single, and the rather nice Take The Silver, a nu-folk single in the making, featuring The Rails and including a brilliant three-part vocal chorus.

Feels Like A New Morning is an apt title, because verve and a freshly recovered confidence seep from the Blow Monkeys’ eighth studio set.

Their best--and most radical-sounding--LP to date.

Pritchard is at his self-deprecatory best on the witty but barbed break-up song Yeah Yeah Girl, while producer/guitarist Tim Bradshaw deserves credit for so fearlessly jettisoning the indie comfort blanket on the stylish, Chris Isaak-esque noir of Posters.

The ways in which Overjoyed thrill are as endless as the band are absurd and implausible. Overjoyed is literally amazing.

The gamut of textures and patterns he produces might be surprising, even off-putting, unless you’ve heard Bourne’s treatments of piano and cello on his beguiling debut studio effort, 2011’s Montauk Variations.

The sound overall holds the germ of the sort of ominous, steady-paced material that goes over well in stadium support slots.

All the members’ parent groups are associated with dramatic music, but arguably in quite different styles, and the first few numbers are what you’d expect Editors to produce if they got hold of previous collaborator Goswell and placed her inappropriately high in the mix.

There’s an intriguing mix of self-penned tunes (Something Familiar with its country-soul undertones), cool covers (Jackson C Frank’s Milk & Honey), and historic reinventions, from lute ballad to World War One elegy.

A fitting tribute and a welcome opportunity to hear Miller’s unreleased songs and performances.

It’s in the contrasts between the overtly camp, the most extreme squelch, and the space afforded to the smoother jams that Mr Dynamite really excels. It’s a success because the vocals, possibly the most blatant things here, are not what remain buzzing in your head after repeated listens. More indelible is the mood, the ambience even.

Founder guitarist Pye Hastings and long-serving multi-instrumentalist Geoff Richardson lead a new line-up through 10 tracks that tick many boxes without threatening the iconic status of 70s classics such as In The Land Of Grey And Pink.

It's a beautiful, soothing record. [Sep 2024, p.133]

With the hollering title track even lamenting astronomical energy bills, it seems Warmduscher have fuel left in the tank yet. [Dec 2024, p.109]

Theirs is a sometimes hazy, sometimes pristine blend of guitars and harmonies which respects the succour of story-telling and implies empowerment without heavy-handedness. [May 2025, p.105]

Miran deep dives into ambient territory. [Feb 2026, p.102]