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.