While there’s a compelling dark energy to the stark, fuzz-riffed uptempo tracks (the bass-driven God Song oddly recalling U2 when they strip things down), the telepathic power of the ensemble is best realised on spectral slowies such as I’m In Love Tonight, featuring deeply resonant viola from Bad Seed Warren Ellis, and epic Never Feel This Young.

Subtly and unobtrusively produced by Fugazi’s Guy Picciotto (as Goats was), Black Peak then finds the envelope pushed further still. If the concept sounds impenetrable at first--off- putting even--keep at it.

He shifts back to the modern world, with the excellent trio of Who To Love?, Come Close To Me and My Last Affair adding deep house backing to snippets of disembodied piano, guitar and soulful vocals.

The later efforts are more like dry runs, and we might have benefitted more from a mixture of these and some key remixes from over the years, but really, what’s not to like?

While their familiar stargazing disco again dominates, the songwriting is at its sharpest as fresh influences add bite. [Aug 2024, p.103]

The Beaches get their points across by grafting moody alt-rock textures - looking at you, The Smiths-esque Dirty Laundry and Cure-reminiscent Sorry For Your Loss - with explosive chorus hooks. [Oct 2025, p.130]

If all Kneecap offered was the spectacle of someone stirring shit up, like the Pistols, PE and early Manics in previous generations, they would still be worth having around. But Fenian offers far more. Their day has come. [May 2026, p.100]

The robotic, new wave sheen of Quiet Americans fares slightly better, but on the whole, this record falls somewhat short of Shearwater’s usually excellent capabilities.

An album of endless revelations, its dry wit and dreamy tunes suggest a mash-up between Pet Shop Boys and Jimmy Webb.

The music exceeds expectation and while this understandably isn’t her best album, it looks at the current trend for reformations and reduces them to ash.

Another big step for Silberman and required listening for any Americana aficionados.

Throughout, Amos' playing is brilliant, ranging from savagely intense on Life Signs to Nights In Amor's classic FM radio pop. Yet the highlight is full-on techno monster Playing Classics, six minutes of delirious abandon. A beautiful place is right. [Oct 2025, p.133]

Along with the melodic, melancholic vocal mumblings and minimalist drum beats, the overall atmosphere is that of a hazy, underwater dream.

Wainwright has returned with a generous and positive record that suggests a more mature, philosophical perspective, thankfully without losing his impish sense of humour and taste for lavish arrangements.

It’s a bold and vibrant experiment that, over its beguiling 40 minutes, realigns the piece’s hypnotic power to the trance-inducing qualities inherent in Malian music.

Fever Dreams Pts 1-4 is some great reward for the Marr faithful, a hope-fuelled 16-song set mounted on a generous, expansive balance of scope and detail.

Although there’s nothing as lyrically sharp as Content Nausea, as raucous as Sunbathing Animal or as brash as Light Up Gold, Human Performance hits all the right notes for a band with a lot of ground to cover.

Too many of the witty lines feel forced to scan, and the electronics, once subtle and suggestive, are heavy-handed. There are charms though. Down Here is lusciously Eels-like, and Tracey Thorn’s star role on Disappointing vamps with a definite strut. It’s just, after PGG’s fabulous right turn, for this album to plough forwards in the same direction seems a wasted opportunity.

It’s not so much that these two work well together, but that they work well in spite of each other. There are obviously two very different musical personalities on show, but where they meet is a convenient hinterland that somehow manages to honour the music they love.

Arguably his most intimate and revealing album yet. [Mar 2026, p.102]

Genuinely experimental, A Hermitage is a tremendously exciting release which demonstrates there is still new territory to be explored in heavier music; it need not always rely on tried and tested formulae. Jambinai are proof that it is better to be brave.

Purgatory is a formidable equal to the Southern states snapshots Steve Earle took on Copperhead Road, and the largely acoustic melodies and arrangements will have some listeners checking the sleeve to make sure they’re not playing a long lost record by The Band. Yes, the likes of Price and Simpson have returned country to impressive heights, and Childers has the weaponry in his arsenal to take it even higher.

A mature and complex collection.

An exciting follow up to 2014’s Foundations Of Burden that edges the band’s sound forward while keeping sight of what they do best, Heartless is a glorious open wound that bleeds melody. Right on.

Not Even Happiness is intent on taking us back to the garden and in these cynical times, perhaps there’s a vacuum across the ocean for artists that are warmer, purer, less needy than the careerist indie-rock that has gone before. Long may this Morning Dove not Tweet.

Liberated by the lack of drums, the songs are fluid and exploratory, organic yet tinged with electronica. The feathery settings range freely, creating room for the variably thoughtful, reflective and playful lyrics to breathe. [Apr 2025, p.104]

Throughout, G straddles clarity and complexity with deceptive ease.

It’s a hypnotic, jam-heavy set that really benefits from the double vinyl treatment; its pleasures are a little too much to take in one continuous sitting.