FFS is actually exciting to listen to, which can’t be said that often these days.

The 90s revival starts here... maybe, but It Hugs Back is also a warm, fuzzy species all of its own, and well worth cozying up to.

It’s unlikely to have the impact of their career-defining Lights... Camera... Revolution, but it’s hardly a folly akin to a Chinese Democracy either.

Both as a protest against subjugation and an affirmation of Mali’s world class musical heritage, it’s hard to imagine a more eloquent and powerful riposte.

Certainly, Childish should never be making laptop beats or recruiting choirs from the DRC, but there might be a sense that his sound needs fresh vigour.

She has lost none of her power in the interim.

While labours of love are always hard to knock, if Godin is trying to convert untested ears to Bach’s charms, he might be better off using the more effective tools in his impressive arsenal.

What Mind Over Matter does exceptionally well is meld the playful and the cynical while always bringing it back to the songs--in both a lyrical and musical sense.

A definite return to form, it’s not 24-carat gold all the way through but there are more than enough nuggets to keep old fans happy and attract some new ones.

Throughout, this is the sound of three world-class talents raising their respective games, as if trying to keep up with each other, creating something far greater even than the sum of their world-class parts.

Despite its noir inflections, it’s a lighter, at times impish, and vibrantly melodic, album. Wherever it takes us, we’re likely to enjoy the ride.

Architecture Of Language manages to redeem itself with its final disc, Architectural Salvage. Though an apparently randomly sequenced grab-bag of rarities and outtakes, it’s actually a pleasantly consistent experience.

Much of it, admittedly, treads familiar, fanbase-appeasing ground, though the beautifully-crafted, Jeff Lynne-esque Losing It has broader mainstream potential and even the uninitiated are advised to heed the title of the atypically graceful, string-kissed Come And Listen.

For connoisseurs of the form, there is so much to recommend, from previously unreleased, grime-caked demos (including Street Walking Woman by The Phoenix and Trust by Hellmet) to ringers that somehow managed to claw their way into the light of mass acceptance (Race With The Devil by The Gun, Gypsy by Uriah Heep).

While Dâm-Funk’s singles and albums have established him as funk’s most forward thinking artist, his DJ sets have concentrated on classic 80s boogie gems. His entry into DJ Kick’s long-running mix series is less rigidly formatted.

Bamboo Diner Rag is a gentle, almost jolly piece of contrapuntal country picking, while Hot Little Hand doffs its cap towards Muscle Shoals.

Rooted in funk grooves and infused with squelchy and crackling electronic textures, their compositions flow in and out of krautrock, afrobeat, art rock and desert rock.

A lot of the morsels are unremittingly 80s in flavour, which leaves them divided into sassy material that still works, a few oddments, and a significant minority that are almost unpalatable, and which could probably be dated down to the day they were recorded, they’re so of their time.

Angular but well-rounded; Pere Ubu remain as paradoxical as ever.

Phillips’ melodies are solid and simplistically accessible, never swamping the lyric’s articulate message; protest songs have rarely been so polite in their persuasiveness.

Chris Illingworth’s glistening piano is glacial yet strong and majestic, elegantly floating above the turbulence created by Nick Blacka’s throbbing bass and Rob Turner’s kinetic, febrile drums.

It’s typical of Merchant’s trademark lyrical articulacy, her passion and poetic vocabulary illustrating how she remains powerfully evocative writer over a 40-year career peppered with high watermarks.

The mix of glinting guitars and sing-song vocals can risk evaporating, but there's plenty here to beguile and charm. [Jun 2024, p.101]

If Common himself has never quite made it into such rarefied company [Prince, Biggie, Maya Angelou, Martin Luther King, Jr.], the album acknowledges that dependability is a desirable asset in turbulent times. [Oct 2024, p.100]

It captures her on spine tinging versions of 60s mod club favourites. [Dec 2024, p.90]

Campbell'n'Lanegan-ish duet Driving Nowhere (with Pat Dam Smyth) could use more tension, but the guitar spiked likes of Daily Rituals and Ceremony sow determination and fortitude. [Dec 2024, p.109]

There's no slouches on this exquisite release. [Jun 2025, p.105]

The abstract industrial textures complement tastefully and spookily rather than overwhelm in confrontational fashion. [Jun 2025, p.103]