Most of the album is sterling work, with the bass alternately throbbing and growling and the beats crisp and sometimes technoid. The pair’s global influences add extra spice, only meandering into average territory on an ambient dub breather at the halfway point.

Hypercaffium Spazzin is a great collection of their trademark short and snappy songs.

The feel is desolate, doomed and desperate combining their hallowed 60s Texan psych with 80s and 90s influences. If not instant, it’s a grower.

The predictability of Alone In The Universe is its strongest suit, these are all cast-iron songs that will sit on an ELO retrospective beamed down from that spaceship in 10538 and nobody would imagine they were released 40 years after their golden age.

In attempting to circumvent the human mind, Everything Everything have found their heart, and made their finest album yet.

Though not as earth-shattering as their live shows, it’s a short, sharp shock nonetheless.

Lead single Feel So Great doses up on the psych medicine and, with many a song culminating in a wig-out, Natural Facts boasts a grubby sheen that Cosmic Cash was missing.

Ghost Parade and the sustained swell of Giant (which comes on like a less glacial take on Zeit-era Tangerine Dream) are frustratingly low-watt affairs, while Wray--featuring atonal viola from Mr Bungle/Bill Frisell collaborator Eyvind Kang--resembles the abstract strokes of Talk Talk’s Laughing Stock rather than doom-laden trailblazers such as Earth or The Melvins.

Where the music shimmers with earnest, well-intentioned conviction, it’s often let down by some terrible lyrics that make the album more throwaway than it otherwise might have been.

Every song is good, albeit not life-changing.

There are elements of grunge on Deep End and curtain-raising single, albeit with a keen ear for melody that suggests Dando's pop sensibilities are as strong as ever. [Nov 2025, p.104]

An ambitious record that highlights the impressive originality of her ever-evolving, emotionally raw songwriting talents, and which deserve boygeniusesque levels of success. [Jan 2024, p.101]

Chhom Nimol's twisting, beguiling vocals tell a hypnotic story without reliance on lyrical narrative; they seamlessly blend into the lushness of the group’s confidently exotic music.

From the opening refrain of Whistleblowers, Spectre is an astounding work.

This experiment has worked better than fans could have hoped and, given the Mule’s current state of songwriting and performance, elevates this jam band to a whole new level. File under: inspired.

The pace rarely drops and, at points, the noise and structure is, indeed, messy, but the whole is punka focused collection with a bloody-minded, if also bloody-nosed, vision throughout.

He’s been compared to Damien Jurado and while the stylistic link is accurate, Knight is more defined by an urge to experiment. This may be too enigmatic for some but perseverance is repaid during the extrovert moments on The Arp.

Opener Jump Into The New World is a bubbly 60s-style pop workout with lush girl-group backing vocals, Dog Fight and Hawaii are in the same vein, but a little more subdued, Rock ’N’ Roll T-Shirt swaggers like ZZ Top, and the band continue their food obsession on Wasabi, Green Tangerine, and the Beatle-esque Cotton Candy Clouds.

There’s a lot of great, interesting stuff here but the listener will have to indulge him to get to it. If you’re a fan that’s no problem, the more causal listener may need convincing.

It is a wonderful record – fascinating and engaging. Pure art. Give it the time it deserves.

There's also a shiner, more recent 80s aesthetic shot through on (I Can't Help) Back Then You Found ME and the epic final End With Sunrise, for a catchy and affecting portrait of the many ages of Idlewild across one album. [Nov 2025, p.103]

While this is unlikely to achieve the same status [as their debut], it proves that these veterans are definitely not yet ready for the scrapheap.

Fans of Sonic Youth at their most experimental will know what to expect, anybody coming to this with fresh ears should try before they buy.

While III is certainly weird, it’s also rather wonderful.

This is the first new Simple Minds album in recent memory that you’ll want to keep returning to.

From the beatless flicker of opening track The Journey, through the 808 kick drum weave of Fall Into Water to the radioactive skeletons of Oracle and the bottomless Paradise, Hunn treats tracks like living sculptures, adding microscopic brush strokes and his trademark deep space strings.

Its 21 affectingly overdub-free songs reveal an essential truth of The National in the 202s, that they're a band at the absolute height of their live powers. [Christmas 2024, p.133]

Yet, for all its superficial obliqueness, Wire is an unashamed pop record at heart.

Blixa Bargeld and his consequential cohorts present a scrupulous, literate and multi-layered assemblage which subtly encompasses the enormity, the futility, the obsidian humour, the stark terror and the warnings from history (that, wouldn’t you know it, remain unheeded).

No 6 is the sound of bluegrass artisans at work, playing up a storm while demonstrating that their chosen genre is not only alive and well, but that its traditional songwriting tenets and instrumental framework can support vital new music.

Sun-dappled and introspective, O Avalanche is a delight. [Dec 2024, p.108]

Several songs misunderstood Molina's stripped-down approach as frailty, which leads to some rough and rickety performances, but overall, I Will Swim To You is a more than solid salute. [Nov 2025, p.98]

There are flashes of their old brilliance. [May 2026, p.101]

A couple of the tracks may catch Tom in booming mode but there’s a pleasing variety of delivery, plenty of sensitivity and a whole load of rocking. Quality control is top notch throughout and the backing musicians are never less than superb.

A Sentimental Education’s grab-bag of exquisite curios upholds a flair for the art of the cover that previously saw songs from Bonnie And Clyde to Neon Lights Lunafied, to echo the title of the band’s own 2006 covers release.

Crab Day looks set to achieve that rarely achieved goal of raising the game while keeping the faithful happy.

Shadow Of The Sun expands their palette, mushes those hues over one another and deliberately, deliciously, paints them outside the lines in a glorious mash of fuzz.

The whole thing is delightful, as compelling as the artists celebrated by Flint’s finest

In My Hour is a gorgeous prayer with gently plucked violin, and there are gospel and jazz tinges too, with rock adding bite to tracks like Lorelei. Indeed, one could wish for a little more of the latter, and some songs do sag a little under their own weight, but generally speaking, Carolina is a lovely thing.

A superlative album that finds them back to their ethereal best.

Tendencies toward pop existentialism (song called Nihilist Abyss? Check) and sonic repetition are the cost of this querulous consistency, but her flair for sparely dramatic intensity compels.

It’s all fairly light, but there’s plenty to savour.

Ultimately, Mosquito sees the band reenergised, trying new things and, generally, succeeding.

Despite being a compilation, this collection has an immaculate flow--like all Beach House albums.

Touchstones are many and include Delia Derbyshire (last year they collaborated with the BBC Radiophonic Workshop on an original score to the 70s sci-fi film Le Planete Sauvage) Can, Grace Jones, Moondog, John Carpenter and Grayson Perry’s pop folk art. But, once again, their sound is their own.

It’s fine for the moment and could even earn Krell the spotlight he craves, but when that fad ends, only the smart will survive and graduate to longer term success. Expect to see his mortarboard first and highest up in the air.

How Do You Spell Heaven channels GBV of old.

Cool Ghouls have a very thorough grasp of how psych should be repackaged for today. Animal Races offer harmony-laden 60s folk-rock with a slight slacker feel, not unlike Quilt.

It’s their fuzz-guitar take on Dr Feelgood’s She Does It Right that holds the, ahem, key to the majority of selections. Dan Auerbach and Patrick Casey spend a lot of the record mining the catalogues on non-household names from the world of blues. [May 2026, p.100]

It’s a given that Keith is never short of rhymes, but Feature Magnetic, perhaps in a nod to its title, sees him pass the mic to a lengthy roll call of guests--almost as if he’s the absent heart of his own record. Regardless, it’s undeniably his show.

Poised and exquisitely crafted, Blight's mediations on the effects of human actions are delivered with a gentle sincerity that disarms cynicism. [Nov 2025, p.102]

Throughout the album there’s no doubt that this is a band that knows what it’s doing, whether fiddling about with feedback and distant-thunder drumbeats, or taking the rock blueprint and rearranging it as the group pleases.

There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with the Lemonheads-style chug of the remainder, though it plants its flag firmly in the same sonic terrain they occupied during 2010’s The Dissent Of Man.

Despite being classed as a mini-album running to eight tracks, this is DeMarco’s most fulfilling and cohesive release to date.

There’s something rather standoffish about Tenderness as a whole.

With its best songs vividly referencing the 70s South London landscape of Difford and Tilbrook’s youth, FTCTTG is frequently nostalgic, yet it’s largely upbeat and mostly eminently radio-friendly.

Overall then: heavy, strong and not that long… but not really designed for dabblers.

Neatly produced and performed to sound slick and punchy, Far From Home remains true to the calypso traditions of reportage, wit and joy.

With a voice that sits somewhere between Bill Withers and Dr John (a neat trick), this is soulful, raw and rasping stuff.

In short, sharp bursts, this approach [bubblegum-flavoured power-pop enhanced by youthful, punky vigour] remains a winner, though as Courtneys II’s samey second side reveals, it can just as easily sound formulaic.

While many elements of the 10 “love songs” on Mount Qaf are competent, deftly crafted efforts betraying a lifetime of attention paid to such things, any Walkmen magic is rarely present.

That this is a subtle and seamless love note to music, rather than a case of too many cooks speaks volumes for the man at the helm.

Passionate, eccentric and unafraid of speaking out or baring his ever-beleaguered soul, Moby remains a welcome presence in modern times and certainly does himself no harm with this highly personal statement.

Although Key possesses some lovely moments - an intrigue-filled Fire, the gothic synth-pop of My Right A.R.M., a tender World Without End - many of these re-dos possess a curious lack of energy. [Dec 2024, p.108]

With tracks often constructed with slick funk basslines and sleek electronics, there is much to enjoy in versatile songs that don't outstay their welcome. [Feb 2025, p.102]

These shoegaze lovers from Philadelphia pick up where they left off with their first record in five years. Nothing excel at dynamics. [Mar 2026, p.105]

This is a reasonably entertaining album. [Apr 2026, p.106]

Frontwoman Beth Ditto, as close to a truly classic soul singer as alternative music has served up in the 21st century, is on sumptuous form, at turns forceful and tender as she contemplates love and self-affirmation. [Apr 2024, p.103]

Unashamedly traditional it may be, but there will be few better country records released this year.

Originally envisioned as a nod to doo-wop, the album soon blossomed thanks to the involvement of various aides-de-camp, including Peter Buck, kd Lang and Neko Case. Yet their contributions are subtle, adding gentle harmonies and instrumental prowess to tiny, emotional epics.

Rattle That Lock is a small, intimate album that maintains Gilmour’s impeccably tasteful quality threshold throughout.

How Far Will You Go? is generally closer to The Rocky Horror Picture Show... and is accordingly tremendous fun.

A casting off of the shackles of self-consciousness has borne exquisite fruit here, with any accusations of novelty or fetishism negated by the brilliance of musicianship, attention to detail and sheer fun of the thing.

Evocative and enriching, Tiersen’s Eusa is a faultless work.

Despite some dubious song titles, that horrible “supergroup” tag and annoying residual longing from White purists, Dodge And Burn is a sweet pill to swallow.

A record that takes the blues-rock of 2013 debut Sistrionix, rases it to the ground and rebuilds something for which the phrase “new and improved” would be an understatement.

With Morningside Murray has delivered on the promise of her early singles, creating an album that’ll be much-loved.

Great Big Flamingo Burning Moon is another collection that showcases the band’s strengths: Dave Tattersall’s winning way with a pithy short-story of a lyric, and hook-laden songs punctuated by bursts of savage lead guitar.

Their sitar-heavy take on the genre incorporates a variety of outside influences, though it’s a penchant for krautrock which yields the best results on this fourth album.

It’s hard to imagine a more prescient-sounding record than one that explores how nascent technologies affect our motivations as modern consumers at a time when we’re all frantically buying online to stave off the effects of lockdown. The songs dealing directly with this are The Future Bites’ most captivating. ... There’s no need for the buyer to be wary here. The Future Bites is guaranteed to weather the ravages of time.

Fellow musos will stroke their beards over this uncompromising pop compromise and devotees of the group’s collaborators will dig it up as a surprising bit of deep catalogue.

A rare example of an eponymous album where the title feels wholly appropriate.

What remains a constant is the warm murmur of the voice delivering tales from the heart with a literary confidence few in his field can match.

The aching titular song and the pre-Raphaelite-esque beauty of The First Song Of Spring compete with the best of the band’s balmy canon, while the dark, dulcimer-assisted A Cat On The Longwave supplies this otherwise life-affirming comeback with an unexpectedly downhearted conclusion.

The songs don’t sink under any weight; they’re light and spacey, though even the scat Rainy Days has real substance. It’s a swinging saloon.

A true gem that deserves the attention that famous episode received all those years ago.

A collection of great songs, to the point where exorcising the spoken word passages would have created a more sharply focused set.

Slick yet lively, powerful yet clear. Samba (“second-born” in Songhai) showcases Touré’s step up towards the mastery of his famous father; he is now an accomplished bandleader, singer and songwriter, to go alongside his obvious talents with the six-string.

Funk is the dominant addition to the music presented here, with Mystic Djim & The Free Spirits utilising Latin rhythms on the punchy Yaoundé Girls and Bill Loko’s addictive Nen Lambo – apparently so popular it caused its creator to flee the country – adding liquid jabs of synth. On Sanaga Calypso meanwhile, Pasteur Lappe harnesses disco’s ubiquitous grooves. The best stuff here keeps the additions subtle however.

The result is an often joyously multi-hued meeting of minds, mixing the duo’s initial no-nonsense nods to The Troggs/Stooges with glitter-band swagger, splashes of psychedelia and the subconscious eruptions of Haines’ ingenious lyrics. [Jul 2025, p.100]

Childhood don’t want for exploratory instincts, but focused tunes prove more elusive. Without them, this long hot summer of an album risks passing you by.

It’s no River II, though perhaps with a bit of harsh pruning, it could’ve been a carefully edited and extended version that preserved the blues-vs-bossa split of the original vinyl. What The Other Side of The River most definitely does offer, though, is proof that beyond those superlungs that still belt out the 60s cover versions in 2016, it’s from Reid’s breathier excursions that true beauty flows.

Post Plague is stronger, more menacing and, as ever, on good terms with melody.

While you couldn’t place it--or anything else on You’re The Man--up there with his finest work, as an exploration of Gaye’s creative process, it more than earns its position on your shelf.

It’s only when the tracks pass all-too quickly in a live-sounding, bass heavy blur that Modern Dancing feels anything less than exhilarating.

The weakest tracks on the album somehow resemble Kings Of Leon B-sides echoing up from the bottom of a bottomless dark well. But taken all together, the sun-kissed synths and woozily inventive guitar work on Pennied Days does just enough for Night Moves to win the day.

Day Of The Dead not only represents a triumph of admin on the part of its curators, but the sweetest love letter to the Grateful Dead imaginable. Deadheads will adore it; the unconverted may find themselves a lot more Dead-curious.

The understated closer Admiral Of Upside Down is evidence that somewhere beneath all the sonic experimentation he’s inherited at least a modicum of his famous father’s ear for melody.