While much of the record has one foot in 70s AM radio, Friedberger’s past cannot help but ensure that there’s an inquisitive, often eccentric worldview at the heart of each of these songs.

Against the odds, it is worth the wait. .... The 12 new songs mostly recall the commercial peaks of Mind Bomb and Dusk, and there’s a comforting, analogue hum to the proceedings. A Johnny Marr-esque lick here, and a Bernard Herrmann horn stab there: all help create the warm, dusty sound instantly recognisable as The The.

These moonlit serenades and hand grenades are, as ever, ingenious. [Apr 2025, p.105]

It’s not that it’s a bad record--it is an enjoyable listen and is successful in achieving what it set out to do, namely to evoke the true sound and spirit of the London orbital world that claims bored teenagers, squaddies and suburban rebels as its own.

Earthling gives an uplifting sense of the creative energy shared between Eddie Vedder and his keenly empathetic collaborators, distilled into striking, memorable songs, and unified by a fresh, cohesive sound. On this evidence, it’s to be hoped the partnership forges ahead as the day jobs allow.

Ultimately, the highlights here are those where Deerhoof are left to their own devices, as on the perky pop of Con Sordino or Kokoye, a scintillating blast of garage rock that might just be the best thing they’ve put to tape in years.

Whatever’s ailing him, he cuts through the murk for his most confident, affecting and clear-sighted album yet here.

The signs were all there, even though Bowie briefly ignored them as he recorded the landmark Hunky Dory. But as The Width Of A Circle shows, everything he’d put in place would soon come around.

A collection encompassing wistful dreampop (Football), evocative indie (Gumshoe (Dracula From Arkansas) and delicate introspection (Beautiful Girl). [Apr 2025, p.105]

On the whole, Woods have produced an inviting, communal listen seemingly designed to soundtrack lazy summer afternoons.

Factory Floor have achieved a pure distillation of their live experience: this is as direct, exciting and thrillingly minimal a dance record as you’ll hear this year.

Whether you prefer him pensive or primal, his 20th solo album brings that big time.

LUH can write a spirited song, that’s for sure, but if you’re not ready, forget it.

The songs on Electric are given more opportunity to breathe and worm their way into our hearts.

A classic compilation of a well-kept-secret of a band.

While Vulnicura Live may not cut quite as deep as Vulnicura proper, rest assured that it is every bit as breathtaking.

2017 could be the perfect time for Alabama 3 to bust out of their long-surviving cult status. This is the LP to do it.

he Last Rider is yet another confident stride along that path, and anyone with a passion for smart and savvy grown-up pop is enthusiastically urged to follow him wherever it leads.

Yello (Glue Head), Cluster (Caramel) and even Factory label signatories Minny Pops (Son) also make the cut, but the most effective entries tend to be the unfriendliest ones: PIE (Versión) by Esplendor Geométrico, redolent of filthy concrete blast walls and quasar radiation; Sexual Discipline by Die Form, robot-blank and remorseless; and Krematorien by Universalanschluss, a strobing migraine of dots and squiggles.

While there are thematic similarities, There Is No Space For Us is sharper and more urgent than last year’s jazzy Stories From Time And Space. It has fewer songs. Half of these last around eight minutes, with multilayered instruments and effects galore, so nobody will feel shortchanged [May 2025, p.100]

Where they step into new territory is with Skin's restrained vocals and more electronic elements: whether you enjoy the ethereal synth of Shame and This Is Not Your Life will depend on your taste for stripped down beats and dark textures. [Jul 2025, p.105]

Although Holy Visions teeters on the wrong edge of mope-rock melodrama, it's an exception; otherwise, Silver Bleeds The Black Sun is a black-clad, clove-smoking triumph. [Dec 2025, p.100]

Things become a little more introspective later on, with acoustic guitars, abstract soundscapes and restrained percussive patterns taking the fore, but, thankfully, the material remains hypnotic throughout.

It’s not all essential--Yellow Stone is a bit of instrumental filler, and you’ve heard everyday metal like Silvera far too many times already--but the high points are satisfyingly high.

There are touches of My Morning Jacket in the vocals too, but in chief it is the already-mentioned artists who dominate Dolls Of Highland and if you’ve been missing them a lot, then this is an album not to be missed, filled with yearning and melody.

It all adds up to a bold celebration of difference that feels like an album made for these times of divisive unease.

Long-time Jacket-watchers might miss the wig-outs of their previous album, but the band’s range and power haven’t been compromised so much as integrated and harnessed. .... My Morning Jacket’s ongoing momentum feels earned and assured. [Mar 2025, p.102]

If the quality flags on Spanish Eyes or Girl Of Mine, that’s down to oversentimental material. And when the completed versions kick in with Raised On Rock, it ain’t hard to see why Elvis was still scoring hits amid glam, metal and Philly soul; class wins out.